This is what happens when a photographer says "OK, I'm going to count to three and on three you're going to open your eyes wider." Sounds sexy, right?

Hawt

Plus my mouth is crooked. Did I have a stroke at BlogHer or was it just too much coffee? I guess excessive caffeine (or electrocution) would explain the hair.

Yikes. Oh, and in return for letting you see this terrifying picture of me, that admittedly isn't the worst photo of myself I've ever shown you, I'll leave you with this lovely little ear worm.

1. I've heard that it can be just the teensiest bit irritating to hear nothing but blogherOMGblogherOMGblogher for the next week or two, and if you find yourself overwhelmed, and you Twitter, the simplest solution is for you to use Twitter Snooze. This way you can basically mute those of us who are talking nonstop about something you're sick to death of. Instead of unsubscribing from all your Twitter peeps who are at BlogHer, just mute us all for a few days.

2. Since you won't be there for me to force you to take one of my business cards, I'll share them here:

And I'll be carrying them around in this because it's pretty, handmade, and makes me laugh:

3. I considered making some laptop stickers, or magnets, or something else terribly clever to hand out, but seriously folks, I don't have the brain cells for that. More power to you if you can pull off that kind of primo marketing, but I think I lost all my spare brain cells when my third child was born.

4. Want to find out what is going on at BlogHer? In person? From, maybe, me perhaps? Call me!

1-650-248-2451

Really! For reals! Give me a ring-a-ding and I'll give you a real-time hookup to what is happening at that moment in BlogHer time! (Don't worry — whenever it is a bad time to talk I'll send all calls straight to voicemail.)

5. I'm going to try to shoot a lot of video to let everyone get a feel for what it is like. BlogHer is one of the best things I do all year, and I'm hoping I can do a good job sharing that with you.

Whether you call me, stalk me on Twitter, follow my blog posts, or choose to ignore it all, BlogHer is a force to be reckoned with. You might be hearing more about it in the next few days. I'm just saying…

So I'm giving in. At some point after I get home from BlogHer we're going to buy a Wii / Playstation / Xbox … something. My only requirement is that it connects to our TV and lets you play Lego Star Wars, Lego Indiana Jones, (in September: Lego Batman!), and Legend of Zelda, because even my 3 year old prefers those games to anything featuring Dora, Diego or Barney.

(As an aside, I just noticed that the DS version of Lego Star Wars is rated 'E' while the Wii version is rated 'E 10+' — is it really that much more violent? Yikes.)

So what say you all? From an informal survey of my Twitter peeps, it sounds like the Wii is the way to go — actually, that was the only recommendation I got — so is that really the best one?

And by the way, no one at Nintendo is beating down my door to send me a free Wii, so since I'm going to be spending my own cash-money, I want to get this right.

Halp!

Holy crap, I realize that I'm something like 20 years late with this review, but "The Little Mermaid" is a horrendous movie on SO MANY levels!

With my two oldest in YMCA camp all day, the blistering hot weather, and the general summertime malaise, I've been turning on the DVD player in the car pretty frequently. It helps distract them while the air conditioning has a chance to cool them off, and I like listening to kid movies much more than kid whining.

So this morning I grabbed a movie the boys have never watched, but I had lying around: The Little Mermaid. I figured they'd complain at first since it's a "girl movie" (the 6-year-old equivalent of a "Chick Flick") but much like the summer I saw Judge Dredd just to be in a cool theater, I assumed they'd enjoy it more than heat stroke.

OH MY GOD, let me give a plot summary for the 11 of you out there who haven't seen this movie yet. Ariel is a mermaid and wants to be human. In order to do this, she has 3 days to make the Prince fall in love and kiss her. Without the use of her voice. She is told to use 'body language' — you know, her tits — instead and that men don't like a lot of talking anyway. If she succeeds, she can never go back home or see her family again, and of course, she will no longer be a mermaid.

Really? This is what children are watching now? I feel like at any moment I'm going to be in my yard screaming for kids to get off my lawn, but I'm completely shocked. I guess the movie might improve from this point, but I'm going to be really surprised if Disney redeems themselves with a movie that would make a sister proud.

And I'm the mom of three boys. What do moms of girls do about this movie? Gah.

I have this intense feeling of guilt from all the doctor visits he goes to, the eye patching which he hates, and the fact that his vision in that eye will never be very good, and I have noticed that I tend to spoil him a little.

But on Monday I took him to the eye doctor and as a result his daily eye patching schedule is going to change. Up to now he's had to have the eye patch on for 2 hours a day, and that has been reasonably manageable.

Now the doctor says he wants him to have the eye patch for SEVEN hours every day. Sigh. Anyone know where I can get a good deal on a pony? Because I'm pretty sure I'm going to need to up the spoiling.

And some commentary from Fussypants and Sweetney.

OK, now we're all clear on what happened. Onward.

I don't care one way or another about what was said, who said it, or who it was said about — although for the record I should tell you that I like both bloggers involved. The real issue for me is the reaction in the mom blogging community. So far I have yet to hear anyone say "Hey, you're being a douche. Knock it off." Or "OMG, just ignore it and move on already." Instead people are talking about how "as women" we have to stick together.

What a crock.

Just because most of us have tits does not mean that we're all going to like each other or that we're all going to play well together. Why do we as women have to limit ourselves to 'nice' ?

I'm not saying we should all start calling people out for What They Really Are (although I could use the traffic, so if you write something about me at least have the decency to link), but it is false to say that As Women we're all nice as pie and Sweet Sweet Sisterhood should prevail over our true natures.

Think someone is a douchebag or overreacting? Unfollow, unsubscribe, or comment publicly on the situation. Think someone has been slandered or misunderstood? Rally to their support. It just shouldn't matter if you or the people in question are women or men.

Come on people, can't we all just … be ourselves?

So what you've got here is more proof that when the world is running down, you make the best of what's still around…

First of all, the little girlies buying this shirt at the mall probably weren't even born when the original iconic shirt was popular. Secondly, I guarantee you that they have no idea what it means. (Hint: sex) Thirdly, wtf?, it's "Frankie Say Relax" — who got all persnickety with the grammar and decided to edit history?

Those who don't remember history are DOOMED TO WEAR A T-SHIRT WHICH PROVES TO THE WORLD HOW STUPID THEY ARE. However, I am quite possibly the only one who would think that was a fitting punishment.