They say nobody does it like the folks down in Georgia. That Southern Hospitality is at it's best there. We shall see. I found New York cold, fast and creepy, let's see about Atlanta.
Can I haz grits? That's all I give a damn about. Where Are The Grits? Beth wants a tiny baby bowl of grits and bacon. Please. It's got to be tiny, because the love I have for grits does not outweigh the death they bring.
I guess this is to say - if I don't post again before then - I am getting up at dark o'thirty to leave at dark o'clock tomorrow morning. I'm going sans laptop because, I think I left my umbilicus for it in Rye Brook. I'm bitter about that hotel because they charged me for the interwebs which I never used, and bounced my checking account that I never use that I put "on file" for "incidentals." I don't use "incidentals." I know better than $The MiniBar$.
I'm trying to finagle a few freebies for give-aways at the event - and finding my super-duty generic Spanx to shove my 15 lbs. of buttered bagel into last year's dress clothes.
All I can say about that is, at least it's an Obesity HELP conference, because, I FIT THE HELL IN. We ALL look like ME.
I should feel the urge to let my bat wings fly there. I should. I don't. But, I should.
If you're coming - see you there - talk to me. I don't know anybody - and even if I do - I won't remember you - so say HI!