For those of you, like me, who are not really real bloggers really, you are probably wondering (as per usual) what the fuck I'm talking about. What is this 'Cybermummy' thing of which you speak? You are not alone. Up until a couple of weeks ago I would have been totally there with you. (In fact - small embarrassing confession here - I actually thought it was called '#Cybermummy', and the # at the start was some interesting exciting special code. It has taken me until yesterday to realise it's part of a Twitter hash tag. I am really quite specially stupid.)
Having done my research, I can however now enlighten you, and tell you that Cybermummy is some big event type thing that bloggers go to. (Clearly didn't do that much research.) Well, that some bloggers go to. I hadn't even considered it - unsurprising when you consider I thought it was some kind of secret code word up until recently - and then I got asked several times in quick succession whether I was going and whether people could meet me there.
Well no. Sorry. You can't. I am, I'm afraid, not going. To show you why, I have created a special shiny graph for you. See below. My inner geek will always surface ...
1) Lack of cock. It's not that I'd be coming for sex (unfortunate turn of phrase there), but I really, really don't like women very much. (Sorry, female readers. I like all of you. Almost definitely.) I particularly - having grown up in single sex schools - don't like all female environments. And by the very nature of its name, the 'Mummy'-esque nature of said event suggests kind of a lack of blokes. Ergo: I'm out.
2) Drunk and disorderly. I am really, really, not very good at being controlled. Particularly when I have to sit quietly and listen for periods of time. (Disclaimer: I can manage this for a maximum of 8 hours a day, 4 days a week. Which is how I manage to hold down my job ...) It brings out my inner drunk/nudist/exhibitionist, and I find myself running around screaming, swigging from a Bombay Sapphire bottle, and thrusting my nipples in peoples' faces. I know you think I'm joking, that I'm overexaggerating, and that you're all going to be doing similar so it really wouldn't matter. Trust me. I'm not. You wouldn't be. My embarrassment threshold is genuinely non existent. I am a fucking nightmare to be around. Am I selling myself enough there?
3) Billy no mates. In the interests of being completely honest, I should point out that no one actually asked me/told me/invited me to come ... (I assume this is how one signs up to going along ... I don't actually know ... I'm still thinking about secret codes ...) Probably just as well, given the other points on my graph.
4) Organised fun. On a Saturday. And organised fun which isn't entirely focused on me. Fuck off.
5) Tweeness. Now, I'm sure the organisers have a very good reason for putting the word 'Mummy' in the title. However. As we know from previous postings, to say I have something of an antipathy to said word would be an understatement. I would genuinely rather scoop my eyes out with a rusty spoon (exaggeration? Me? I don't know what you're talking about) than be referred to, collectively, as a 'Mummy'. Vomit. Cybersluts, on the other hand ...
6) I hate me so much right now. I don't really, but I can't imagine any of the above (or any of the blog to date, in fact) has served to particularly endear me to you. I am an arrogant, drunk, naked, attention seeking woman with large breasts. Still hoping to meet me? Thought not. (Honestly not any kind of complex double bluff, contrary to popular belief.)
7) General incompetence. Goes without saying really. I got lost going down my own stairs this morning. (Not entirely, but I did find myself wandering around the middle floor aimlessly for several minutes trying to work out what I'd gone in search of. A baby, as it turned out. She bit my nose as punishment, so we're all good.) Do you honestly think I could find my way to a random event I still secretly believe to be some kind of code breaking workshop in the middle of nowhere ALL BY MYSELF? No fucking chance.
So there you go. A long, rambling, and excessively detailed (you can tell I'm lacking in blog material for today) missive on all the reasons why I WON'T be attending Cybermummy (or #Cybermummy, even).
I bet you're absolutely devastated.
PS Good luck, and enjoy, to all those who are attending. Get your nipples out on my behalf ...