The Wrath of Con, Part II
August 24, 2004
OK, OK. Let's get this JournalCon post done and over and over and done with so I can get back to talking about my dog. And myself. My pretty, pretty self.
Verdict on JCon: Yay.
Mostly because I spent all my time hanging out with these clowns:
SNOBBY WHORES ARE WE. But we are merry snobby whores, so you can just suck on it.
We also brought Ceiba, who was not a snobby whore but was merely a lap whore. Was way more popular than me.
Left to right, top row then the bottom, just like reading a damn book:
1) The happy yet rather ragged-looking family. Amy's doing that weird squinty eye thing she does when drunk.
2) The amazing Dawnie.
3) The amazing Martha and also the amazing Chickie's amazing husband who is, as you may have heard, amazing.
4) Chickie and the Chicklet, who shall be mine, because I waaaaaant her.
5) The babies vie for the title of Official Mascot of JournalCon, or at least a comfortable spot to lie down on.
6) Cute puppy photo or shameless attempt to see up my skirt? You be the judge.
I pussed out and slept a lot, for I am a pussy who gets cranky without sleep.
But oh, there was much silliness and much mingling and much meeting of the loavely people.
From left to right:
1. Rebekah and Coleen, who totally make me want to dye my hair red so I can be cool.
2. Dawnie, Molly and Rebekah, who are all totally not posing for my camera, but for someone else's, but I took the picture anyway because I wanted to pretend that I hang wit them and am cool.
3. Coleen posing at Maggie Moo's fantabulous shop of ice creamery and crazy ice cream servers, with perhaps the greatest motivational phrase a woman can hear: Something had to be done, and Maggie was just the heifer to do it. True dat.
And I'm seriously mad that these are all my pictures. I didn't get pictures of all the other people who I shall obsessively stalk and maybe marry someday.
(Here come the shout-outs.)
(You might want to leave now.)
Loave and make out sessions to Chiara and Kate and Kalamity and Pratt and Booger and Mo Pie and Lovinglav and Pineapple Girl and everybody else who I met and people I didn't because I was stricken with a major attack of The Shy almost the whole time because y'all are too SMART and it indimidated me, for I am dumb.
(Oh, and I read this entry at the reading, and I am told it went over well. There was a MICROPHONE. I was not prepared for a microphone. I think my hands shook. I probably looked like a drug addict. I also did not wear a bra and that room was COLD. Shit. I was going to read one of the Many Loves essays, but Jebus. If you had HEARD some of the smart/funny stuff other people were reading? You would have totally applauded my choice to stay in my little puddle of sophomoric humor where I belong.)