Tuesday, October 14

I've got one hand on my ego but can't find my id

So I want on a roadtrip this past weekend. I drove down to BlogHer Boston as part of the GM car pool and I was in a car with this lovely lady and her completely edible son. He tastes like gingerbread and smells like new baby, and while I did not eat the aforementioned baby I may have nibbled around the edges.

For the record, I did not nibble anyone else, but I did sleep with this tempting mama because I'm easy like that. And maybe I rubbed up in an inapproriate way with this little sugarpants vixen, and then I told this double agent that she has a nice a*s, and then I inspired this chick to tell me about how well hung Dustin Diamond is, and that left me wondering how she knew.

I also spent time drinking with a huge group of ladies I will have to link to - because they are that cool - but because I haven't unpacked yet *cough* lazy *cough* and found that precious precious pile of cards that promise rabbit-hole like adventures (as in fall in and come back up for air four days later from reading complete archives), I cannot link to them at this time. My memory is shot, my inbox is full, and I'm full of about 40 posts that are stuck in blogstipation. Usually when I'm blogstipated, I have nothing to say but this time... I have too much.

Where to begin... how about the first few hours of the roadtrip?

Approximately three hours into our journey, I almost had Catherine arrested at the border after demanding - nay strong-arming her into taking a picture of the most hilarious sign ever - a sign that had the unfortunate placement of being right above a border patrol guard who was about to ask for our passports and why the hell should he let us into his country.

Guess what? You can't take photos at the border crossing. It's a no-no.

How do I know this fact? A border guard read us the riot act for taking the picture.

While praying that the riot act was just a lecture to scold us and not a preamble to "bend over and cough", these were some of the thoughts that raced through my head:
  • we mean no harm, please let us in nice man
  • screw that, he's an a*shat
  • OMG - he wants the camera
  • he can't be serious
  • OMG - he really wants the camera
  • SH*T he is serious
  • woah, I totally must remember to blog this
Yes, we had to pass over the camera. After fumbling with the camera, trying to set it up so he could see the offending photo, an action that seemed to take excruciatingly long, we handed over the camera with the potential international incident.

He examined the photo, taking it in at every angle, and made some thinking noises. After he passed it back, out came the wagging finger and the "learning points" synopsis of his lecture on not taking pictures at the border. Because it's baaaaaaaaaaaad.

Then he finally started to ask some standard questions:
Border Guard: Purpose of your trip?
me: We're going to a conference sir
Border Guard: What is your profession?
me: Blogging, I'm a blogger (I kept rambling and muttering incoherent crap)... I'm going to a blogging conference... (something incoherent - kinda like one of my posts)

Meanwhile Catherine was saying perfectly normal non-trigger answers that he couldn't hear because I was in the drivers seat and squirming like a freak with four balloons full of heroin in my stomach.

Border Guard: What?
me: Blogging
Border Guard: Clogging? You're a clogger? Where are your shoes?
me: ???
Border Guard: You clog?
me: Blog, I do stuff on my computer. (I'm now squirming like the balloons have ruptured and I'm about to become the next storyline on Law & Order)

After a bit more of an explanation was made, it was still obvious he just didn't fully understand what our purpose was (in life or in visiting his country), and it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he did not like us but it was clear that he had no real reason to hold a couple of exhausted looking folk dancers who do stuff with computers.

Border Guard: I don't know what you do but don't take anymore pictures of borders ya' hear?

I stepped on the gas and sped into New York state before he could change his mind. Dude totally never noticed the baby, sixty-eight parakeets, and side of beef we had crammed in the back seat.

BOOYAH! Totally worth peer-pressuring a friend into sparking off an international scandal.

31 comments:

hoppytoddle@gmail.com said...

As a folk dancer (yet, not clogging) that does stuff on her computer, BWAH-HA-HA! I have spent many times like this at the Ambassador Bridge. Can't wait for the blaxative to work & we get to here more.

Stimey said...

I adore that after all of that, with the warnings, and the international incident, and the no photos at border crossings, that you've posted the photo on the internet.

I get that way with authorities as well. Even if I have a perfectly valid reason for doing what I'm doing, I feel like I have to make up a better reality.

Heather said...

Why is it so hard to explain blogging? I can't do it either.

sam {temptingmama} said...

That clogging bit still makes me laugh. Cloggers. LMAO!

It was very nice to share a bed with you!

xox

Mandy said...

Border guards take their jobs seriously. Seriously enough to not know anything about the rest of the world.

But hey, you should have just gone with clogger. I love it. In fact, I'm making you new business cards after I'm done here.

ALI said...

clogging! that dude needs to get with the times! did he ask to see your wooden shoes? Seriously funny, but I'm no good under pressure either!

Double Agent Girl said...

What this post does not convey, is the little clogging dance you did at the hotel bar. THAT - made the story! LMAO.

You rawk, clogging or pole dancing or thumbing on the thruway!

mamatulip said...

Clogger? *snort*

When Oliver was an infant we were crossing the border in to America and there was a big wait on the bridge. Oliver started to cry and got himself completely worked up; I got out of the van, walked around to his side, opened the door and got in with him. I soothed him, calmed him down and then got back out and walked over to my side of the van and got in.

When we got up to the booth the guy went apeshit on me. And you know what? I went apeshit (on a lesser level, of course) back. Dave was freaking out - he thought I was going to get arrested - but I was not going to let some guy sit in his little wicket and scream at me for mothering my child.

fidget said...

I would probably bather incoherently at the border crossing. I always feel SUPER GUILTY and weird even when I have nothing to feel guilty or worry about.

Kyla said...

Next time say "Online Writing Conference". It is the b-word that throws 'em off.

But I, for one, would like to see a video of you clogging while writing a post. That would be HIGHLY entertaining I think.

Karen Sugarpants said...

On the way back, I used my tranny voice to tell the lovely border crossing guard that "we were at a women's conference."

Ha ha...no I didn't. But I thought about it. Sadly, I nearly pee my pants from nervousness at border crossings. I'm so scared that they will cavity search me.

You are the shit - I totally adore you. At first I was all like, 'damn this chick is quiet,' but after you started up with my favorite kind of humour (dry humour) I could have throw you to the ground and kissed you long and hard. Aren't you glad I didn't?

Chicky Chicky Baby said...

For the record, I have never seen Screech's penis. Nor do I have any plans too. I just watch a lot of Celebrity Fit Club and they talked about it on that.

Convinced?

Yeah, didn't think so.

Still waiting for my clog dance. And I'm not sure if I mentioned this but you didn't snore. Much.

(Missing you ladies LIKE CRAZY.)

No Mother Earth said...

Hey, I didn't know you could clog.

catnip said...

I'd pay pretty good money to see you and HBM clog dance, maybe at the BlogHer 09 Keynote? :)

Janet said...

How does that old saying go? An id in the hand is worth two egos in the bush?

Mac and Cheese said...

I don't recommend that you EVER start a career as a smuggler. Something tells me that you'd give yourself away every time.

ewe are here said...

Blogger...clogger.... they're similar, right?

Good to see they're only hiring the best and brightest to protect our borders.

sigh

daysgoby said...

Glad you're home, safe and sound!

At least they didn't think you were a logger. They use axes and stuff on a daily basis.

petite gourmand said...

almost busted at the border huh?
I hate when that happens....
sounds like a fun weekend.
how long was the drive to boston btw?
we are thinking of going in november- and I love road tripping.

Mayberry said...

OMG PLEASE take up clogging! Now!

Laurels word said...

I used to go over the border easily when I lived in Buffalo, but that was before.

Sounds like you had a blast. Did you learn any clogging since the border patrol seems like that would be a good idea?

Laura said...

You would make an excellent clogger. I wonder how many bloggers are cloggers?

Mimi said...

Oh wow. American border guards are COMPLETELY HUMOURLESS. And because I know this, I always freak out every time I have to deal with one. I will be sent to Syria to be tortured one of these days, just because I can't stop giggling.

bernthis said...

Hey there: Long time no "hear". I'm so jealous you got to go to the conference. Sounds like you had quite the trip. When I was young and my folks used to drive us to Canada I have zero memories of any border problems because I was so young. Oh how I wish that were true now.

kittenpie said...

You really ARE bad at borders, arent' you? I remember on our rpad trip, you were so nervy, I thought you might crawl out of your skin and leave it lying on the floor like an extra sweater.

Naomi (Urban Mummy) said...

You can't take pictures at airports either. On your way to exit or go through customs. Especially with video cameras.

Not that I tried, or anything.

Lisa b said...

ok I seriously have tears in my eyes.
one of your best ever posts.

mothergoosemouse said...

I have chocolate in my nose now, thanks to this post. It doesn't taste nearly as good up there.

I think you ought to bring me some Canadian chocolate if you can ever manage to make it back into this country again.

Her Bad Mother said...

Mac and Cheese - you joke about the smuggling, but, um... maybe ask Katie sometime about smuggling... she has a story or two. Let's just say that this wasn't her most harrowing international incident. Nor mine, for that matter.

Catherine and Katie, International Moms of Mystery.

kgirl said...

You have GOT to show me your clogging sometimes. Snort.

Ruth Dynamite said...

Too much fun!