How an NYC shower stole my right nipple.

So this is a continuation of my previous BlogHer posts here and here. And here if you want to read how I’m a dumbass and can’t even have a uneventful pedicab ride.

So while this will talk a little about the two last parties, it mainly talks about my right nipple and The Bloggess.

Many of you know I have an intense fear of shower curtains. I am sorry. NOTHING good ever comes from a shower curtain. I mean, there’s the whole movie Psycho, people often use them to wrap up bodies and forget shower sex and using them as support.

When my hubs and I had been dating for awhile, he bought a condo with…shower curtains. I had always had glass shower doors. Like normal people. So I was always leaving the curtains open, so murderers, clowns, or slugs couldn’t hide there and he was always closing them because of like mold or something.

Since I somehow thought he may still think I was fabulous and normal I always played off his, “Why the hell do you keep opening the shower curtain?” questions with, “What do you mean? They are SUPPOSED to be open.” I didn’t want to be all, “I’m completely whackadoo with an intense fear of shower curtains.” (That was before I knew what an insane, unpleasant, not fun person his ex-wife is and I was still trying to be impressive. Low expectations? Rock. I can NEVER be worse than her.)

ANYWAYS…so Ronda and I are staying in the Sheraton in NYC, across the street-ish from the Hilton. I decide to bathe before we head out Thursday night. Planes make me feel dirty.

I honestly don’t know how she didn’t hear my screams. That shower? Had the MOST intense water pressure I’ve ever experienced. My right nipple was pressure-washed off and showered down the drain. The bits of it that were left? Were raw and sore.

And then the damn shower curtain. The water pressure created my own little wind tunnel causing the shower curtain to billow and whip in the wind…while wrapping itself around me. I was flipping out. So when I managed to detangle myself from the curtain, I threw it outside the tub which caused the bathroom to flood.

Ronda couldn’t figure out what the HELL I had done in there and when I told her that I was now nippleless and knew what it felt like to be wrapped in a shower curtain and buried alive in a bayou somewhere while a hurricane raged-well, bless her little black heart, she tried real hard not to laugh.

Okay, so WHAT does this have to do with the Bloggess? Well…at the gala art auction, which is where I left off yesterday, she had offered up a photo of herself in the shower, on which I commented about my fear of shower curtains.

And then when we realized she was there writing poems about people we hopped in line. And when I got to her? I EXPLAINED to her about my fear of shower curtains and how I lost a nipple.

She wrote this lovely poem about me…

“Your hair is so awesome that id like to scalp you. But not while youre alive because i like you. Adfter youre dead. tha ts probably obvuious.”

Bless her heart…she was typing on an ancient typewriter so that’s why there are typos but I wanted you to have the FULL effect. (And she liked me. At that point in the evening.)

And then we took this pic:

I LURVE the little flower hairband on her wrist.

I also mentioned in front of her entire session when I asked my question that the top google search for my site is spanx porn. And that I’m not a porn star. Why does that come up so often?

So then we took pics in a room full of balloons. Ronda and I. Not the Bloggess. She was busy. Here’s that pic:

So then we went to Wicked and ate at Lindy’s.

Okay, then SATURDAY night parties.

We went to Sparklecorn which was fun. We danced and had drinks and people kept giving me drink tickets. I choose to think it’s because they were delighted by my charming, sparkling personality. Ronda thinks it’s because I look like a lush.

So then we went to Cheeseburgher where there were beds and I was all, “I’m not putting a bag on my head.” But then I used MORE drink tickets and realized they were fresh bags and then I realized they had craft supplies so I grabbed scissors and made this (because glue and stuff seemed too hard I thought I would use a sharp object while I had a drink in my other hand):

Photo courtesy of alphamom.com

And then I jumped on a bed and met some cool people and decided I was tired shortly after drinking a beer through a swirly straw. And then Ronda and I got pizza and scared some aspiring musicians. And their moms.

Oh, I jumped ahead. Prior to the bag and the jumping and the swirly straw, I stalked, I mean hung out with the Bloggess for a bit and chatted. She was hilarious and very kind and didn’t let on that she thought I was scary/shit balls crazy. I thought that was particularly nice of her. And then I asked her why she wasn’t hanging out in the bathroom with wine yet. I’m sure she RAN there after talking to me.

And then people kept trying to force feed me yummy McDonald’s treats but they ALL had condiments and I couldn’t eat any of them because I can barely handle different food items touching and then condiments have a weird texture so it was TOO much for me. But since they were all pushy and don’t make me shove this meat wrap down your throat I had to explain my condiment issue. So EVEN MORE people left thinking I was nuttier than, ummm, peanuts.

BUT THEN a few days ago I got an email from the lovely Alpha Mom and found out I was one of the winners of the bag hat contest. So much for people saying being tipsy, lazy and full of yourself doesn’t work out. Sheesh. You can read about it and see pics here.

So that’s it for now…I’ll later write about the Project Mom casting and exhibit hall and how I pissed off the Pillsbury lady.

© Amy Lloyd Mayfield and Amy’s Blam, 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Amy Lloyd Mayfield and Amy’s Blam with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.