So basically it was me, two people in normal clothes and two people in bowling shirts who could have gone into any Starbucks in America without getting a second look. Then Jason handed me the latest copy of Barstool Magazine in which I was mentioned as “a certain bloggess whose vagina I know way too much about”. It was at that moment, reading a glossy magazine about my vagina and dressed in a bed sheet poised to go on live television, that realized I had lost control of my life. Somewhere in between becoming a sweet mommyblogger and this exact moment a series of bizarre choices had landed me in this psychotic life and I had no other choice but to run with it. Someone handed me a badge which said I needed to be escorted by an employee at all times. Clearly these people had heard about me.