I Blame Debbie

This is all Debbie's fault. And by "this" I mean the fact that I created a scrapblog in yet another shameless attempt to win my way to Blogher.

Why, you ask, why would I spend time and energy on this little project? (Why, other than the vain hope of winning airfare, a hotel stay, and admission to Blogher?) Well, I really had no plans to go to Blogher. Ok, I'd had the stray fantasy, but really it was not more than that. And then a couple of months ago Debbie asked if I was going to go. Or wanted to go. Or had thought about going. Since the answer to at least one or two of those questions was yes, she saw the one little chink in my otherwise flawless "I am not going to Blogher" armor. Since then, about every two weeks she's asked me whether I want to go. Her methods, though varying, are nefarious. She and her roommate have room for me. She thinks I'd have a good time, that she'd have a good time with me there. She'd buy me drinks. Plus the assorted ego-stroking comments that didn't hurt my sense of self, if you must know.

Most recently, I talked by phone with Debbie while I tooled around the Dallas airport's skylink. (and really, for anyone who has been to or lived in Dallas, is there anything in the rest of that city that matches the coolness of this nifty airport tram?) But I digress. The point is that Debbie brought this whole Blogher thing up again. It is working on me a little, her nudging. I still haven't bought a ticket, but it is because of her intervention that I have been forced (forced, I say) to do things like build a scrapblog in order to enter a contest. Apparently every view of this silly thing gets me an entry into the their contest. So I did it. I spent a portion of the evening fiddling with the site.

So take a look. Please. I need all the help I can get.

It won't be a complete waste. You'll see some pictures from my trip to the beach. You'll note that, in true Oregon fashion, a mid-June coast trip required sweaters and pants all around. The cloud-cover did break a bit, but when the sun managed to poke through we were all so blinded that we were physically unable to take pictures. Just as well, lest more people see our pasty white skin.





(P-man, does it count as shilling if I am doing it for my own selfish interests? In case it is, I apologize in advance. Now click anyway.)