I won’t even pretend that I sat at that gleaming conference table and gave Club Mom hell. You know why? They weren’t interested in holding hands and helping me to redefine the term “Mom” as anything other than a demographic, and like many other for-profit sites they want to engage an intense readership and bring it over to the
dark corporate side. After five hours of conversation, four trips to the bathroom, one cup of peppermint green tea, and half a bag of Doritos I was ready to put ads on my site again, and I was also very, very sleepy. By the time I got to Blondie’s in the Mission with Maggie, Melissa, and Heather, I was also shivering so hard I could barely hold onto my magic burrito. Then I got on an achingly slow BART train and missed my flight. And when I finally got home Jack couldn’t have cared less about my day, he was all, You saw MIGHTYGIRL??!!!
“This is where dreams go to die.”