A long time ago, in the year 2007 or maybe 2008, I discovered a very funny blogger by the name of BOSSY. (Her real name is also the name of a state that rhymes with Whore-gia, but she prefers to be called Bossy.) Upon reading Bossy’s blog, I found out two things A) Bossy is very good with Photoshop and 2) (See what I did there? Genius.) Bossy IS HILARIOUS.
So I began not only reading Bossy’s blog but also commenting on it! Crazy, RIGHT? I mean who comments on BLOGS anymore? But wait, this was back in aught-eight, you know. Times were different then!
One day, a MAGICAL thing happened. I wrote a post about my infallible lady parts and BOSSY COMMENTED ON IT!! See??
OH MAH GAHHHHHH!!!! Bossy knew I existed! And she knew that my vajayjay was PERFECT! Could life get any better??
Well, life DID. Because a few months later, I wrote about how my crazy two-year-old was twisting knots in her hair, and Bossy commented AGAIN!
I mean, it’s like – WHOA. Looking back on it, I might should’ve just quit blogging then and there. I know I’ll never be able to top a Bossy-double.
Four months after Bossy’s second comment, I was still riding high on Bossy’s love for me when I encountered Bossy IN THE FLESH in an elevator in Chicago at BlogHer ’09. Now, as you know, I am terrified of elevators. Apparently, I am also terrified of being near Bossy, because I could not say a WORD. I tried not to gawk, but you guys? Bossy is larger-than-life on the internetz AND in elevators. She is soooooo tall, and beautiful and did I mention, hilarious?? I was tongue-tied. I am not exactly known for my shyness, but I didn’t utter a word.
Later,wallowing in my failure to connect with Bossy, I decided maybe it was HER fault. Maybe BOSSY should’ve recognized ME. I mean, I was a faithful reader and she’d commented on my blog. Why wasn’t she all, “OH MAH GAAAAH it’s JENNY RAPSON from MOMMIN’ IT UP!!!??”
I mean, come on. I’m kind of a big deal.
Shortly thereafter, Bossy embarked on a tour where she drove a Saturn all over the country and stayed with bloggers and slept on their couches. It was AWESOME. I waited for the email where she would ask to sleep on my couch, but it didn’t come. (Bossy: I would’ve bought a brand-new FUTON just for you!)
Heartbroken, I vowed never to read Bossy again.
Ok, that’s not true, it’s just that I got um, busy? Or something, and Bossy got a JOB (lame) and she didn’t blog as much and I got really LAME about never leaving comments, and well…Bossy and I just drifted apart.
Fast forward three long years to this May, at Mom 2.0. Emily and I were trying to look stunning minding our own beeswax when Tara came over and started talking to us because she is SO NICE. (And also? SO TALL! We felt like midgets!) We had met Tara many moons ago at BlissDom and it was fun to catch up. At some point in the conversation, Tara casually looks over her shoulder and says, “Yeah, my roommate Bossy…” at which point I grabbed her arm and screamed:
“Your ROOMMATE BOSSY??????” way, way, too loudly. Especially for someone who had not a drop of alcohol.
And then, with a glamorous shimmer, Bossy appeared.
And three years after my first brush with Bossy, I LOST MY FILTER.
“OH MY GOSH BOSSY! I WAS IN AN ELEVATOR WITH YOU AT BLOGHER THREE YEARS AGO AND I WAS AFRAID TO TALK TO YOU AND YOU ARE SO FUNNY AND WOW! I GUESS I’M NOT AFRAID ANY MORE!”
{Emily was so anxious to get away from me this point, she almost dove into the swimming pool wearing a white dress.}
For some reason, Bossy did not run away from me. She was very gracious, and the four of us had a great and funny talk. (Although it occurs to me that Bossy *may* have a different version of this story that she tells at parties. Hmm.)
The next day we even SAT TOGETHER in sessions! I started to feel comfortable enough with Bossy to even like, joke that I was stalking her when I showed up at her table again and again and again… *ahem*. Bossy and Tara and Emily and I had a really nice, normal, non-“Single White Female” time together.
On Saturday night at the Versace Mansion party, Bossy even let me get a picture with her! I stood on my tippy-toes and grinned like a serial killer while she slouched a little for me. The result was perhaps the most un-flattering photo of me ever snapped, and yet I shall cherish it forever:
Bossy, I’m sorry it took me so long to say it, but I hope you know: you’re a funny, classy lady, and I REALLY appreciate you tolerating me! I hope I get to bask in your presence again soon!
