Rock the blog party!
So, I’m guessing many people are asking, what on earth is a blog party? Valid question – I asked myself the same thing. Many of us may be guilty of perceiving bloggers as geeks (okay, some are by their own admission, and we love them for that), weirdos (ditto) and socially awkward outcasts (no comment).
Well, last night’s Howard County blog party in Union Jack’s British Pub of Columbia would make you reassess all your assumptions and prejudices, because the blog party rock and rolled!
The theme was British, mainly because I was co-hosting, and fittingly is was chucking it down with rain, which made for many a quip about ‘appropriate weather for such a party’ (made by me) and ‘brought the British weather with you’ (made by others).
So, I shall list (cos I love it) stuff that amused or bemused me at the blog party…..
1. Is this a typically British pub?
This was a question I got asked a lot last night.
My response and subsequent conversations were as follows:
No, this is not a typically British pub in the slightest.
It has about 30 big screens showing football matches and you would not get that in a British pub.
You mean soccer?
No, I mean real football.
And people are here to eat. In a British pub, people are mainly there to drink.
But there are fish and chips here.
Yes, but the newspaper they are wrapped in is not real newspaper, therefore not authentic.
There is a phone booth.
We call them phone boxes.
2. Cup of tea
I decided to have tea to be genuinely British. This tea came as chamomile tea, with a massive dollop of honey and some lemon on the side. Oh, woe is me I thought, but I do delcare…..it was one of the best things I’ve had in ages!
3. Pissed / pissed off
Okay, so the language barrier continues to rear its head in many amusing ways of mis-interpretation.
Conversation as such last night, started by an American friend:
Did you have a good time on Saturday night?
Yes, I did, thanks. I got a bit pissed though.
Oh no, what happened? (Shock and horror on face)
I had a couple of margaritas.
Oh! (laughter). You mean drunk?
Yes, otherwise I would say pissed off.
4. Sex book
Well, that got your attention…..as it did mine! Towards the end of the evening, as people drifted off, my ukhousewifeusa business card clutched in their hands, I chanced upon a small red paper bag (why are mysterious bags always red?).
I looked inside said bag, and to my delight I found this:
Yes, the Tao of Sexology. One blogger somewhere had brought this along to our blog party! A small group of us huddled round it, giggling and sniggering and looking at the pictures inside. It was reminiscent of being back at boarding school, reading Princess Daisy with a torch out loud in the dormitory after lights out, but that’s a whole other blog! What fun we had! However, as we pointed and laughed at rudey-nudey pictures, it dawned on me that someone had left this book and would be seeking it out, so we returned it to its location to be retrieved. I would love whichever blogger or blog reader whose book it was to let me know, or simply blog about it
So, the blog party was fun and I am so glad I met people whose blogs I read and who read mine (and find it funny and insightful and refreshing – lovely compliments). And bloggers are, by nature, communicators, so there were plenty of people with plenty to say, and the booze flowed pretty well, too, so good job done HoCo bloggers and blog reading chums!
My name is Claire.
For 38 years I have been led to believe that this name is made up of one syllable.
I am now beginning to question that.
I pronounce my name as Claire, as in ‘air’.
Many Americans, I have found, pronounce my name as ‘Clay-air’. Not all of them, mind you, but some.
It does not offend, it amuses me.
But it is a French name by origin, and I am pretty sure they only use one syllable….or do they….?
You know what I’m referring to, Brit friends. That warm lemon, paracetamol-infused drink that you can hold in a mug and rightly sees you through a cold. Can’t find the stuff here, nor anything like it. I got weird looks in the drug store when I asked for it. I shan’t ask again. Lemsip, I miss you.