I'm not paid to be a people watcher

I'm a people watcher.  I can sit for hours watching people try to walk out a wedgie, suck in their guts, nonchalantly flex muscles, adjust bras, play with hair and all other aspects of peacockery.  And then there are those that don't give a shit.  Totally state fair, right?

Well, I missed this year's state fair because it was ahundredytrillion degrees and the munchkin wouldn't go for sitting still sweating in a stroller so that I can watch a parade of tube tops and cut off jeans.  Damn the man.

I can deal with crowds if I can feel that I'm on the sidelines - observer as opposed to observee.

This is not the case next week.


I'm attending a large professional conference where I need to remember names and faces (that I learned during and shortly after pregnancy! eek!!).  Yes, name tags will be provided, but after the first night half of the people lose or forget them and the other half wear them conspicuously low so that it's obvious you are sneaking a reminder peek.  I have to shake hands, shmooze, and talk to many, many people.  No people watching allowed.

My industry is male dominated - so name tags on boobs is awkward at best.  I vote that we all wear ball caps with our names on the front.  How easy would that be?  I know your name, and I save money on having to re-highlight my hair prior to a professional event.

If you don't hear from me much next week, think of me blushing, stuttering and stress sweating in a room with hundreds of my peers.

Sheesh....

We have a couple of guest bloggers that will be posting next week in my absence! Thanks in advance!!