The official inevitable inimitable irresistible Avitable guide to BlogHer:

1. BlogHer does not happen in a vacuum. This isn't Hedonism. This isn't a nude beach. This isn't even your fenced-in backyard. There will be at least four million cameras at BlogHer. There will be tongues wagging and tweeting and typing and talking. Unless you're holed up in your hotel room with only you and your bestie who would never tell a soul, there is a very good chance that the world will be privy to your heavy drinking, woman kissing, pot smoking, hardcore dancing, panty flashing evening. It might not be tagged with your name and maybe nobody will say anything about it, but if you pass out on the dance floor at the Sparklecorn party with a drink in your hand, don't be surprised if you show up in the background of a thousand and one photos. And, unfortunately, expecting anyone to refrain from publishing a photo out of courtesy is asking for trouble. If you're worried about something embarrassing being published, don't drink so much that you do something embarrassing. And please, someone remind me I said this in two weeks when I'm mortified by the photos that are published.

2. Nobody cares how you look. Many bloggers (myself included) can be a little camera shy. If you're not comfortable with your weight or size, it can be hard to see yourself in hundreds of photos throughout the weekend. One alternative is to hide in a corner all night long and avoid the cameras, your friends, and all of the fun. Or, you could realize that this is about the celebration of bloggers, people, and especially women, and you're just as beautiful as that one thin blonde who looks gorgeous in every photo. Go out, have fun, and appreciate the photographs for what they are – memories with your friends.

3. Don't be a pussy. If you see someone you read and like, go say hi*. Chances are that person also has someone that he or she reads and likes and might be shy about talking to them! Blogging is about community, and community is about reciprocity. One of the biggest pleasures I had last year was when a blogger would come up to me and introduce herself. Chances were that I already knew her name, but it was nice to put a face to that Twitter account or blogger identity, exchange business cards (look for mine this year with MORE NUDITY), and forge a personal connection that's stronger when it's not separated by a shitload of ones and zeroes. Also, if you're shy, some people might misread this as aloofness and then they won't approach you either. It's a vicious circle. (*Does not apply to Dooce. She will punch you in your crotch.)

4. Your negative attitude should be left at home. Whether you're the type to whine and bitch about the men present at the conference or the drinking that goes on or the breastfeeding or the swag or the lack of swag or the exclusivity or the private parties or Nikon eating babies, shut. The. Fuck. Up. There is literally something at BlogHer for every type of personal blogger out there. Whether you're married or single or gay or straight or a teetotaler or an alcoholic or childless or barren or fertile or Christian or Jewish or Muslim or black or white or yellow or purple, if you have the right attitude, you will walk away with something positive. And wouldn't you rather come away with something positive rather than focusing on the few aspects that annoy or piss you off? I know I would.

5. Don't take things personally. It's hard. You have a lot tied up in yourself – you're psyching yourself to surf the wave of estrogen and squealing and wade in with your business cards flying. You walk up to someone, introduce yourself, talk to her for a minute or two, and mid-conversation she sees someone else that she knows, and the conversation ends. This will happen a million and one times that night, and to everyone! Even me. And I'm fucking compelling to talk to. Someone (actually many someones) will forget your name. You might be ignored or jostled aside. Bloggers you know might sneak through a line while you're still waiting. There will be parties that you don't get invited to where the attendees get pedicures and massages by the Jonas Brothers and Robert Pattinson. There will be secret rooms where they give away Camaros and Botox. It happens. Get over it, and just relax. Have fun.

6. Pronounce my name correctly.

Hopefully this guide helps you enjoy your time at BlogHer 2010. If not, I wash my hands of you. I've done all I can and you're obviously a lost cause. Go to BlissDom instead, where everything is rainbows and sunshines and unicorns. And Jesus.

P.S. Do you have an iPhone? Download the Bump app for an easy and fun way to transfer your information to other bloggers with iPhones!

P.P.S. Don't forget these either!

You Might Be a Sexual Predator If:

• You can enjoy the subtle hints of grape in the bouquet of a Caprisun
• The delay in the release of the Blu-ray version of the Hannah Montana series really ruined your Saturday night plans.
• The Pope reassigned you to a parish in Poland or Russia.
• Every time you see a football field with no turf on it, you get an urge to go play ball.
• You have a "regular room" at the Nickelodeon Hotel in Orlando.
• Chris Hansen haunts your nightmares.
• Your race car bed is specifically designed to have a Craftmatic Adjustable Mattress so that your back feels okay.
• Without consulting the Internet, you can tell the difference between each individual Jonas Brother.
• Your name was Michael Jackson.

In other Avita-news, happy birthday to Bellaventa – hope you have a great 31st, Robin!

Combine with a dare to get my nails painted what is likely the gayest color known to man.

Add togas.

Mix thoroughly with booze.

Toss in some karaoke.

Season with a close call with an undercover cop who decided not to ticket you for driving 95 in a 70 on the way to the airport, maybe feeling sympathy because you looked like death warmed over.

And you have one amazing, successful weekend! Thanks to Brad and Liz for throwing a great party yet again!

(Here's the whole Flickr set if you care.)

Happy birthday, Poppy. You're a true friend.