Well, as you know if you’ve been following our blogs, most of the BMG’s are in Pittsburgh this week for the Romantic Times Conference. We have been working our tails off doing promo, setup, tear-down, decorating, networking, workshops, and trying not to leave the hotel with an overstock of Buttershots. Dirty job, but someone has to do it.
Can you imagine…when we arrived the hotel had NO Buttershots. What the hell were they thinking? We made sure well in advance that it was specifically listed in the conference BDO, but someone apparently didn’t take it seriously enough. You get six Butterscotch Martini Girls and enthusiastic readers who love to try new things all in the same spot with no Buttershots and…well, let’s just say it’s not pretty. LOL But we did manage to find some substitutions that got us through until the hotel realized we were dead serious and managed to finally get in a shipment of Buttershots. The booze arrived on Thursday and this is Saturday so by now, we have ALL of the bartenders trained on the art of Butterscotch Martini-making. Woo Hoo!!!
And yes, as Cassie mentioned yesterday, I am apparently still wearing a sign on my back that I can’t see. My family used to tease me that it said, “If you’re weird, I’m in love,” implying that I attracted the strangest boyfriends. And they were pretty much right at the time, as I generally managed to attract someone with either no job, no home, or no car…often, none of the above. But I’m getting better…just, apparently, not completely free of the curse.
This time it happened yesterday morning in the restaurant. I started out fairly safely when I joined Dani and Carol for breakfast. They had arrived first and were almost finished when I joined them. So halfway through my meal, they paid their bill and left me there alone to finish my coffee…here’s where it starts to get strange.
I’m sitting there finishing my coffee and a woman walks up to the table. The restaurant isn’t really very crowded, so the tables around me are empty, which makes it fairly obvious that she’s there to talk to me. I look up and she’s just standing there staring at my 3 empty chairs. I’m wondering if she wants to borrow one and why when I smile and say, “Hi.”
She replies, “Hello,” as she stands there smiling and glancing at my chairs.
Finally, she says, “I’m just looking around for a perfect stranger to sit with.”
Okay, I’ve never heard that one before…so I stare for a minute trying to figure out if this one just got off the short bus. She looks safe enough. I kind of squinch up my eyes and repeat after her, “You’re looking for a perfect stranger to sit with?”
She nods and smiles, but doesn’t offer any more information.
Okay, my “weirdo alarm” is starting to honk, but I ignore it because I’m bound and determined to be polite to everyone. So I gesture toward the chair and say, “Well, you’re welcome to sit with me if you’d like. I’m not perfect, but I’m about as strange as they come.”
She visibly relaxes and plops into the chair. “Thanks.”
Alrighty then…now, what to say to a woman who walks through restaurants alone in strange towns looking for perfect strangers to sit with? I have no clue. So I decide she’s the one looking for strangers…let her come up with a topic. Fortunately, she had no problem doing just that.
As it turns out, we had a very fun chat and she turned out to be a lovely woman who is welcome to share my table any time. Of course, next time I won’t be a stranger any more, so it might not work. Anyway, in the end, we both met someone new, had an enjoyable cup of coffee/breakfast break, and did not have to sit at the table alone reading a book. Woo Hoo…
Now, another great story is the boob tale…man, are there boobs at a romance writer’s conference! Who knew? But this tale starts with the costume contest the night of the Faery Ball when a woman showed up in an old time costume that looked like it might have come from a Renaissance Festival…and did she have some jugs on her! The corset she was wearing pushed those puppies up until they were pointing straight out in front of her and they were flat on the bottom and very, very jiggly on top. Then, to make matters even stranger, she stuck a long neck Bud bottle in between those tata’s and paraded across the stage and all through the ballroom like that. It was a hoot!
Later, some of us were sitting around in the room, rehashing the party and Carol made the mistake of saying she just couldn’t imagine the beer bottle between the boobs. Well, long story short, I decided my boobs were just flexible enough (translation…floppy) that I could show her. So I hoisted those puppies up and stuck a water bottle between them and, Thank God, it stayed in place. Well…at least until I quit supporting the girls, at which time the water bottle shot across the room.
Oh, the hazards and sacrifices of a career in writing. LOL Oh, and there was one more piece of excitement that has Dani’s nose totally tweaked out of joint. While she spent this entire evening cruising the hotel ballroom, stalking the hallways, peeking in elevators, trying to get a glimpse of Fabio and, possibly, have her picture taken with him…guess who passes him in the hallway to our room? Yep…me. So I drop my books in the room and hotfoot it back to the elevators where he gallantly holds the door for me and I get to ride the 17 floors back to the ballroom with the infamous Fabio. And I must say, girls, that I was very surprised…he’s actually very good looking in person. Very intense, very quiet, but actually gorgeous.
So now I guess I’m going to have to sleep with one eye open all night so Dani doesn’t beat me to death in my sleep. LOL By the way, be sure to ask Kayla why her fairy wings owe me an engagement ring…you talk about hot wings! That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it…hold on tight now, we’re gonna go real, real fast!