Five Days of Buffets

Reunited and recovering

I'm home from a five day conference in San Francisco. I had expectations of making up for the lack of personal time in my life, and envisioned sleeping in, long runs along the bay, and going on a culinary journey through North Beach and China Town. After getting my registration packet, and going over the schedule, it was obvious I'd have hardly anytime to get fresh air, with most days packed from 7am to 7:30pm.
The conference made up for the all day speakers, round tables and networking, at meal time when a buffet stretched along the entire wall. Every meal, I mountained food on my plate, and then made my way to a table where I made seven new friends.
By Sunday, I gained forty friends and five pounds. All the socializing left me the most drained, and felt the need to get back home where I don't get much personal time, but I can manage to squeeze it in sometimes. The last five days put into perspective that, although I can't pound out a short story when an idea pops in my brain because I'm parenting, there are little moments when I turn on Dora The Explorer and do a 20 minute yoga video, that amount to me-time.

I'm back home. My summer course now ended and I have to wrap things up by grading their finals and submitting grades. My goals for today were to do that, and clean my disastrous house, but after I dropped the kids off at preschool I've caught up on 5 episodes of Real Housewives of New York and made PopTarts.
Dorinda is still my favorite, and Sonja is much funnier when she isn't getting trashed and throwing herself at every dick she sees. I used to think Bethany was a bitch because she's a loud mouth bully, but I'm warming up to her. Especially after her vagina troubles. She is like a grownup Orphan Annie, she doesn't seem to have any family, not even a second cousin, to call on.
If I were Bethany, I'd go adopt a dog and a kid, she needs love in her life. All these Real Housewives's tears highlight that you can have all the money in the world but if you don't have real deep connections with people, then life is hardly lived. More evidence to the old adage, "Money can't buy love."

Even Jules, with all her problems, is really happy from being a mom. Jules' eating disorder is still a major storyline. And she ran into more trouble, literally, when she impaled her vagina. I missed the details of the accident because I was in the kitchen buttering a fresh PopTart, but I gathered her recovering Vag looks like it has elephantiasis. Skinny Jules got a fat pussy. Now she is finally getting recognition for not being so small. I thought of a great nickname, Big Pussy Jules. Too bad for her tiny husband, as he moves out, Jules finally got thick, and where it counts, in her vag.

I think Bethany and Carole's shit talking could be like my buffet. They binge shit-talk to fill the void for family and deep friends. The forty friends I made this weekend were cool, but not as cool as my dog or family. My dog follows me around the house, and falls asleep wherever I end up. I feel guilty to get off the couch to get a snack because he'll wake up and follow me to the kitchen, then sleep at my feet while I start up another toasting session, and then wake up to walk back to the couch with me. But he doesn't understand when I say, "Bentley, stay here. I'm coming right back."
After 5 hours of reality TV, I'm heading out to pick my kids up. We'll take the dog to the park and maybe get ice cream. Anything, but watch TV. I'm not sure what void I just filled by binge watching RHONY, but I'm ready to take on the world, which is most likely the result of stored energy from five days of buffets.

My culinary tour even came across Sacramento Street