Friday, September 6, 2013


Over Labor Day weekend I attended Dragon Con for the 10th time, and this one was one of the best! I don't know if it can top that first time, but it came pretty darn close. I saw and did things in a whole new way, and couldn't have asked for a better time. I even had a good time waiting in line!

There is always a sense of warm fuzzies you get once you cross the threshold of the Dragon Con campus. For me, it starts when riding up the Deathscalator (aka the longest flipping escalator ever) from the Peachtree Center Marta station up to the food court between the hotels. Well, it's a mix of warm fuzzy and unbridled terror, but you get the point. It's a cocktail of emotions that I never experience anywhere else. One you get that first glimpse of a Star Fleet officer or a Captain Mal sticking out from the crowd, it feels like coming home. (You know, if getting to your house involves climbing a chompy mountain of doom.)

I could (and as you see, will) spend paragraphs waxing poetic on the essence of Dragon Con, on what it means to different people. It's community; it's a party; it's acceptance; it's playing pretend; it's being yourself; it's passion; it's comedy; it's LIFE. There's this energy, this love, whether you're at 45 minutes and counting of waiting in line, or asses to elbows with 17 of your closest strangers in an elevator; you always feel it. (Though perhaps a little less love in the elevator when someone is unsure of the range of their costume and you take Loki horn to the eye) You could be coated in sweat and Con funk from marching in the Parade, and you still have that tingling of emotional electricity that comes when you've made a connection with thousands of other people, thousands of people with the same passion and love that you have.

So if that energy is always there, pulsating under the feet of the 50,000+ people all descending on downtown Atlanta, then what made this time so special? Well, let me tell you - it did not start out well. Last year, we had incidentally timed ourselves such that badge pickup (in the past a lengthy, Herculean affair that filled all with dread) took about 10 minutes. We did not possess such luck this year, and ended up waiting almost 90 minutes. This was a portentous beginning, to be sure. BUT, even in line, things can be awesome! Case in point, we found ourselves lined up next to the lovely lady from the wonderfully excellent "Last Dragon Con" parody video (linked here:
Stop whatever you're doing and watch it because it's FABULOUS. I'm serious. I'll wait.)

Okay? Wasn't that cool? The answer is yes. And we just got to chill and chat with her. We got to make that connection, tap into that energy. It set the tone for what became, for me, a weekend of connections.

Riding the high of finally getting our badges, I powered into panels. Most years previously, I was hesitant to go to panels by myself, so I tended to miss a lot of things. But this time was different; I said to myself (in a British accent, because I always talk to myself in a British accent) that I was just going to *do* things. I hit 5 panels that first day and had an absolute blast getting to touch on several segments of my passions (and that one Haven panel I went to with my sister because it was something to do. And even then, I left the panel wanting to start watching the show, so good on you, American Sci-Fi and Fantasy Media peeps!)

Saturday morning kept up the trend. We marched in the Parade again this year. However, due to some construction for the Atlanta streetcar thingy, we had a new route. Maybe it was the new view, but I felt completely energized and excited! I find myself saying this over and again, but it comes back to making connections. There were thousands of people lining the parade, all cheering and taking pictures. We marched with the Doctor Who group, and watching little kids go wide-eyed at seeing *The* Doctor or a Dalek just fills me with the warm fuzzy. Have you ever seen a 4 year old meet someone in a Batman costume? In that moment, that cosplayer *is* Batman. He has walked out of the TV screen or off comic book page and that child is meeting the literal guy who swoops in to save the day. The awe in their faces is truly magical. The parade is getting to live that moment over and over again for a mile-long trek. Having the new route breathed new life into the Parade and made those magic moments all the better.

Later that day, I went to panel where my first TV crush was a guest. It was just as fun as any other panel, but something about seeing someone I pined over since I was 10 ramped up the awesome - again, making that connection: seeing someone as a real person. It made me happy. (I also finally worked up the courage to go meet him 1 on 1 in the Walk of Fame, but by the time I had done, he had left the Con. Maybe next year...) That night, I really got to step up my connection-making. One of my favorite musical acts, Paul and Storm, were performing in show that night and asked for volunteers to help man the merch table during the show. I kicked my shyness in the ass and went for it. I got to go backstage, watch them warm up a little bit, and meet a lot of the other performers (people I know of from the Internets). I just got to help them all out during the show; selling their wares. It was minor in the grand scheme, but it was ULTRA cool to me. They signed a CD for me for helping out, but I would have done it for nothing. Just getting that experience, getting to help out someone who's given me a lot of laughs was really special.

The rest of the weekend continued along these lines - it was all about making those kinships, no matter how fleeting. And that's what Dragon Con is to me, and why I love it so much. It's taking your passion, your love, and expressing it via questions and handshakes, fabric and styrofoam. I've been attending Dragon Con since high school. I've gone with many different groups of people: people I haven't talked to in years, people I miss dearly and would love to see again, or people I get in touch with almost every day. And during the Con I always run into many other old friends, or start meeting new ones. Through all these relationships, Dragon Con has always been there. It was there to welcome me as a shy 15 year old who didn't know too many other "nerds". It was there for me to share with my best friend from high school, once for just a day, when we were separated by going to different colleges. It was there for me to introduce to my (now) husband, and I can't wait for it to be there to share with my son when he's older (he went last year at 11 months old, but much like a platypus, he didn't do much). And as new adventures begins in my life, I'm happy to know it will be waiting for me then, too.

So that was my weekend. I was so busy soaking up the group energy I successfully went another year forgetting to take pictures. But I did make a lot of memories, and can't wait to see what's waiting for next time.

Some Notes:
While this isn't about Dragon Con specifically, Wil Wheaton has this lovely video on why it's awesome to be a nerd ( You should watch this one too, because he so eloquently speaks of that passion and that love.

Shameless plug: The Atlanta Radio Theatre Company ( performs a couple shows at Dragon con each year. They are so much fun, and bring so much of that love and passion I keep raving about to an art that doesn't always get the appreciation it deserves. Please, check them out.

EDIT: Because I am a JERK and forgot this: My sister and I casually said hello to Noel Clarke (Mickey in Doctor Who) and explained Cards Against Humanity to him. As you do. Also my sister is awesome and I'm glad to get to share Dragon Con moments with her.

Friday, November 16, 2012

I love my coworkers

We use Skype for communication at work. The following took place in the "free-for-all" sort of chat. Names changed (using names from How I Met Your Mother because why not) to protect the guilty. :)

Okay. I like me some coffeescript:

thanks for that perl of wisdom

this is some interesting Smalltalk

Let's C where it goes

HOPEfully no one bashes these puns

They're pretty Groovy

oh R they?

A rare Perl, I say

these puns are way too BASIC

This was just the Prolog. Let me sip some Cocoa while we discuss our Newspeak.

Stop bashing our puns

you just reused one lily....already getting JADEd

B cool. We're a kind Assembly here

I need more Java, probably

Some jokes are Magik

They help you FOCUS

How many puns do we have? If we can go to 20 it'll be a Mirahcle

it's like Mr. Rogers said:  Won't Ruby my neighbor.

He was Objective, C?

I'd love to see the SQL to that show

They really toned down the Scala, gave it a new Scheme. 

Yeah, he doesnt even talk to neighbors anymore, just the Squirrels. A lot of Squeaking.

They were going to include turtles, but the script didn't work with their shell. Something about the logo.

just watch out for an ASP.Nets are good for catching them.  

or even a python

or even a Cobra!

man don't make that snake the Pascal lamb of this conversation.  We have sacrificed enough here

should we stay, or should we Go

eh, either way I'm Flexible, can be out in a Flash.

at the sound of the shebang, everyone Go!

Spoken with a lisp

the hyundai COBOLt cars are kinda ugly

They have a bit of a SPARK

just stay sharp, ya C?

Well, it seems this discussion has reached a Clojure.

Conversations such as these are not uncommon. And everyone wins with puns.


Thursday, June 21, 2012

Coke Zero

The following story is one which I was going to make into bigger, shinier, post, but then I A) got super busy with work, and B) had a personal thing which just made me sad and a little self-hatey. So here it is, hopefully with funny enough words that you don't throw tomatoes at me.


A few weeks ago Kane and I took a weekend "adult" trip to Helen, GA while tiny human spent time with my parents and sister. Helen is this little Bavarian oasis in the middle of northern Georgia. But wursts, spaetzle, and lederhosen are not the focus of this story. No, this tale revolves around that most elusive of tokens, the MacGuffin that is a Coke Zero.

While Kane and I were seeing the sights, I was struck by the desire for a cool, refreshing beverage, a thirst which desperately needed to be quenched. And what would save me from a mildly annoying sense of thirst? Only a Coke Zero. We passed a shop which was selling bottles for $2, but my thrift said "No! Just wait until you get back to the hotel; you can get the same bottle for $1.25" I felt smart and economical. Little did I know how I would come to regret that supposed $.75 savings (side comment: I wish I had a key for the "cent" symbol. We have the $, why not the "c" + "|". Anyway).

We arrive back at our hotel, and I am thoroughly parched. We trek to the vending machine. I insert my dollar, early anticipating the refreshing calorie-free pleasure I'm about to experience. I go to insert the next dollar...and nothing. It doesn't even have the decency to do the 'spit the dollar out over and over again so you keep having to flatten it until it's crisper than when it came out of the mint' thing, which at least gives you a little hope. No, it just flat out refuses to acknowledge my offer unto the keeper of the liquid refreshment. Suddenly, ingenuity strikes me! Many vending machines, when you push the "gimme my money back, yo" button, return said money in coins. I will push the coin return, get quarters back, and use one of those with the dollar it's ignoring to get my delicious beverage. Brilliant! Except...the machine has taken my dollar hostage and will not negotiate terms for it's release.

Kane goes to the front office and they give us a dollar to offset the abducted one. Now...I will admit my next action was foolish, but the thirst was clearly affecting my thought processes. But...I decide that since I now have both a dollar and a quarter, I will surely be able to trick the soda beast into giving up its treasure. I insert the dollar, then go for the quarter...which spits back out the return slot. I try again, same result, but this time it falls under the machine. While retrieving it, I discover 2 other quarters left behind, possibly the last evidence of previous adventurers. I decide to give up on this machine, which of course now has two of my dollars.

Ah, but all is not lost!  This hotel has several floors, all of which proclaim "vending". Why didn't I think of this before? Well, probably because there were stairs, and I am lazy. I dash to the next floor, empowered by the knowledge that my quest surely soon be fruitful. I crest over the top of the stairs, and what visage is revealed to me? A Pepsi machine. It's Georgia...and there's a Pepsi machine. I silently curse the taunting tricks of a cruel fate. I trudge dejectedly back to the room, fearful the sweet-tart object of my desire will go unfulfilled. But then! Out of the corner of my eye, I see my change. The "suites" area of the hotel possesses a Coke machine! I traverse the parking lot - feeling my reserves empty in the hot Georgia sun. I cautiously feed in my dollar. It accepts. Then my takes that too! I'm going to get my drink. I select the Coke Zero...and the machine dashes my hopes in a single second. "SOLD OUT" it flashes at me...mocking me with every letter that scrolls across. It at least gives me my money back, softening the blow.

What can I do? At this point, the need, and it has become a need, for my quest to end in success has become all encompassing. I must possess a Coke Zero, or my world will never be right again. I decide to accept defeat, and walk meekly back to the shop, give them my $2, and hope they can't smell the failure surely emanating from my very core. I firm up my resolve, and begin the journey.

As I leave, I see it. The last bastion of hope. There is a Wendy's across from the hotel. My saving grace. I swagger, and it was a swagger, into the building, knowing soon I will have won my battle. I'm waiting in line to order, only a woman who had very particular lettuce desires standing between me and my boon. I glance at the menu, and my heart sinks. Wendy's does not serve Coke Zero. They serve Diet Coke. Coke Zero != (that's 'not equal' for any non-CS types) Diet Coke. One is calorie-free Coke magic. The other tastes like robot pee. I turn, about to make a run for the original shop, willing to give them even more than $2 just to not feel like I failed. But it's too late...the cashier summons me. It is here I will give the fight up. In that moment, the defeat overtakes me. Thoughts of soda are gone...I just need to soothe my beaten soul. So I do what anyone would do in my situation.

I order a frosty and fries, march back to our hotel, and sit on our balcony shame-eating frosty-coated french fries while relaxing by the river.

I sent this story to this blog's fabulous co-writer Stephani, and she responded that it was "the greatest story about America [she] had ever heard." I'm not sure how to feel about that. All I do know every time I've had a Coke Zero since then, it's always tasted just a little sweeter, and I give it just a little more appreciation.


Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Certified Master of Blue

Here begins the obligatory baby post!

When Michael was a'bakin' in the mommy oven, I read the books and the blogs and listened to all types of moms tell me 57 different "The one thing you need to remember"s. I attempted to prepare myself, but like everyone says, you really can't prepare. I mean...a living, breathing, kicking human is going to exit your person in a way that was described to me multiple times as "having a really intense poop", and then you have to take your poop baby home and take care of it. (Michael, if you ever read this, I'm sorry I just called you a poop baby. Though you did poop even before you were born. So thanks for leaving a mess. Now go clean your room, or take out the trash or something.) are my "The <how ever many I come up between now and when the hockey game is over> most important things you need to know about babies"

(Fair Warning: The follow post contains discussions about baby body fluids, because 83% of an infant's existence involves expelling...something. I shall try to not be overly graphic.)

1) Noises. Newborns make about 3 noises: Crying, burping, and unexpectedly loud (given their size) farts, which one or both adults in the relationship will then seize as an opportunity to blame their own on the baby. This is completely acceptable - use the excuse while he's too young to bust you. [Note: Because I have a "he", I'm probably just going to refer to the hypothetical baby has a "he". A lot of pregnancy books go back and forth between genders and it throws me off.]

After a couple months, they start making many new noises, ranging from the cute (laughing, cooing) to the annoying (whimpering, grunting) to the rather unexpected. Did you know babies growl? Because I totally didn't, and then one day Michael and are sitting on the couch and freaking Chewbacca starts wanting my attention. Another fun noise - screeching/squealing. Your baby will sound like a pterodactyl, and prefers to make this sound in the middle of restaurants. Though we did give Michael a jacket that gave him little dinosaur spikes, so maybe we were asking for that. Long story short - all those cute noises you expect from babies will be accompanied by Wookie growls and what I can only assume is dinosaur for "Hey look my toes are attached to me!" or possibly "Hold on, I need to shove my entire fist in my mouth". It's a little hard to tell with Michael's accent.

2) Fluids. Let's just knock this out now. Babies are, at their cores, little waste factories which defy physics. I will never understand how 6 oz of milk becomes approximately 1 gallon of baby vomit. That being quickly find yourself not even noticing. It will all get everywhere. I was washing my face once, and realized I had spit up on my ear. Couldn't even tell you where it came from, though I am assuming it came from a baby - hopefully mine.

I'm not going to dwell too much on this, but I will leave you with this advice. Never, EVER position yourself at the south end of a baby when changing a diaper. Kane chose...poorly, once.

3) Socks. No sock designed for babies EVER stayed on their feet. Babies also seem to have extremely cold feet, so you worry that if their socks come off their toes will soon follow. So you carefully pull on socks, look away for 2.2 seconds, and then he's got both socks off and is intensely focused on shoving them both into his mouth. Repeat 17 times, or until you decide you're just not going outside that day.

3.5) Baby clothes in general. Your chances of correctly snapping the snaps on a sleeper is about 23%. I think whoever tested those things did so on a baby doll, not a squirming, flailing mass of human. Surely a baby was available for proper testing. Or if not a baby, perhaps a small dog. Anyway, just accept that baby clothes are impossible to do correctly and don't think it's a person failing on your part.

4) Baby spit. I know I mentioned fluids up there, but drool/spit deserves special mention. A baby produces approximately 4 times his volume in drool every day. And it will also end up everywhere. Babies are just generally moist. Which means everything babies touch, including you, gets a light layer of saliva. Unfortunately, you cannot scotch guard your baby.

And once the teeth start making their heralded entrance, the drool starts flowing and he chews on everything. And I mean everything. Toys, sleeves, parents, hampers, the couch...if he can touch it, he will either chew it or attempt to, giving your whole house a nice dusting of baby spit. I think it's how a baby marks his territory - the old "I licked it and now it's mine" ploy.

5) Day Care. Having to deal with day care is possibly the most socially stressful experience I've ever had, and in high school I accidentally confessed a giant crush to half a lunchroom once. Thankfully, I don't typically have to do too much interacting at the day care because Kane is AWESOME and does most of the drop offs/pick ups. But when he needs me to go, I go.

Just getting into the parking lot is an epic journey. It's a small lot, and everyone is converging at the same time, so you've got to fight for a space. While you're trying to navigate this maze of cars, remember you're at a day care, meaning at any minute tiny humans can leap out from behind cars or out of trees or under rocks or wherever kids hang out these days and try to ruin your day. So you navigate the maze and dodge the wayward children.

Now you've got to get inside, which during drop-offs is yet another quest in itself. First, remove car seat with baby attached. Collect bag containing bottles, extra clothes, and any refills for diapers/wipes/whatever. Carry bag and car seat to door, keeping a hand free to type in the security code for the front door. Sign in child and head toward infant room. Stop to cover shoes with those little blue booties. Open deceptively heavy door while remaining balanced carrying stuff. Hand off supplies, extricate baby from car seat, make awkward small talk, and hopefully make a clean break. Repeat reverse in afternoon.

All this is compounded by the fact that everyone who works there is very perky. And I am so very awkward. I can't interact with perky without sounding like I only just learned English after having been raised with the raccoons out in the woods. Michael's teachers are excitedly telling me about he "learned" the colors today, or had a good time playing with his friends, and I can only think "He's going to go home, attempt to eat at least 4 non-food items, smack himself in the face with a toy, and then fall over. But sure, he's totally a certified expert on blue now." Perhaps I am just not an excited enough mom, but it does seem a little silly at times, and I don't know how to express myself in the face of that.

So there are 5 (6 if you're pedantic or know how to count) things about babies that I didn't have quite a good handle on when little dude was about to come. I'm learning new things every day (did you know that babies can scream bloody murder without even waking up? Or that strained squash can travel a good 6 feet when thrown by a 7 month old?), so who knows what wonderful things I'll discover next.


Saturday, July 30, 2011

I was not a badass 12 year old

Every summer for the majority of my youth, the family would load up in the minivan for the trek to my grandparents' house in Pennsylvania. This drive took approximately 15 years to complete and I was always convinced that by the time we arrived at our destination, I would be old enough to buy lottery tickets and watch “big people” movies.

Furthermore, since I can neither read nor sleep in cars, there was little distract me on the drive. The route up to Pennsylvania is not especially noteworthy aside from the fact that you can make a game out of counting police cars in Virginia. Oh and also that gold ball building thing in Knoxville from an old World's Fair that my mom pointed out every single trip. Eventually I discovered I could pass some time by trying to balance action figures and other small toys on my sleeping sister, though eventually I wasn't allowed to do that for silly parental reasons like “safety” and “respecting peoples' personal space”.

Finally I just started memorizing the exit numbers for tourist traps things off billboards. (This will be relevant later.)

One summer, my dad was not making the return drive back with us for some reason that I do not remember and is helpfully not relevant to this story. Being as I was 12 and my sister was 4, we couldn't do a whole lot to help lift the driving load off my mom, so she decided to break the trip into 2 days, and we would post up in Gatlinburg, Tennessee for a night.

From my earlier intense study of billboards, I knew that Gatlinburg was pretty much filled to the gills with tourist things. On of these was Ripley's Haunted Adventure, another attraction from the Ripley's Believe or Not folks. Before moving on, let me explain a bit more about my 12-year-old self.

In short, I had determined I was a badass. I wore almost exclusively boys' clothes in mostly black (Ok, honestly? I kind of miss being able to wear boy's shorts because those tend to be longer and have way more pocketses. I wore them well into college before my body decided “Ha ha! You're going to have lady hips now!” and ruined everything. Anyway...), watched a lot of sports, talked in a slightly deeper voice than I actually had, and wore thick, black wrist cuffs. I also was a bit reckless/clumsy and kept finding new ways to minorly injure myself. And while the wound itself helped to feed my “tough gal” image...well, we also had a 4 year old in the house, so I had Blue's Clues and Sesame Street band-aids. Not as tough. It was also kind of funny because I didn't swear at all (I had several friends who did...I have no idea what the “normal” age to start cussing is), but still wanted to be a badass, so I actually called myself “so bad-a” and then just sounded vaguely Canadian.

So here I was, a “touch chick”. Right before we left on our trip, one of the cable movie networks had shown all of the Halloween movies in a weekend marathon. I watched them all and giggled my way through, further inflating my tough self-image. (I have since watched them again and realized I wasn't scared because watching old horror movies in the day time with commercial interruptions is pretty much the least effective means of viewing a horror movie.) Now I felt like nothing was going to get to me.

So we're headed to Gatlinburg, and I'm pushing to my mom why I should be allowed to go do the Haunted Adventure while she and Julia do “lame stuff” like go to antique stores and get ice cream. She said we'd check it out once we arrive. I spent the next couple hours in the car talking up what a joke haunted houses were, and how I'd be fine due to my supreme 12-year-old toughness.

We arrive in Gatlinburg, which is as touristy-looking as you would expect. The main drag is full of signs and ads for all manner of everything, but I was on the lookout for my quest. I was going to show Ripley how tough I was and embarrass them for making a haunted house a pre-teen could traipse through. I found it a couple buildings down from the big Ripley's museum, waiting for me to show it how awesome I was.

It looked surprising innocuous for something that was really playing up how intense it was. You had to be 12 to go in without a chaperone. There were warnings and wavers and doomy music all about how you would probably die of fright just for looking at it funny. But to looked lame.

(I think they've downplayed the “you'll die of fright” in recent years, probably because they want to appeal to more people. Also, I'm amused they're Gatlinburg's #1 haunted house as I don't remember there being any other haunted houses in Gatlinburg).

So I stroll up to my mom, chest all puffed out, saying I don't need a chaperone, it'll be a cakewalk, and I'll see them in a hour. She does that “Oh...let's just see how you feel in a hour” thing that moms do so well, but signs off for me to go in. I group up, give a confident “yeah, I got this” smirk, and wave bye to mom.

They take you into the house in groups of 8-10 people. Notable other people in my group are Tough College Boy (TCB), Ditsy Girl (DG), and Large Biker Man(LBM). Once your group is introduced to one another, you board an elevator which goes up at an angle (I learned later this is to disorient you before you even get in, but back then I just thought it was poor design). As you ascend, the scary employee person lines up your group. To navigate the house, you form a conga line of doom, with each person putting their hands on the shoulders of the person in front of them. TCB, having been acting tough and tooly to impress DG, is tasked to lead the group. I, being at least 10 years younger than anyone else there, am placed at the end while scary employee cackles at me. LBM is in front of me, which is a problem, for I am short now and was even shorter at 12. I cannot effectively reach his shoulders to stay attached to the group.

Finally, we make it to the top and are led into a dark room. Scary employee makes some “boo” noises, spins everyone around, and sets us on our way. It goes pretty smoothly at first. TCB feels his way around the room (and around DG) and we make it aways through. I don't remember it being particularly scary – it was dark, things jump out at you. They have live actors who pop out in crazy makeup and try to spook you. It was slightly off putting, but nothing scary.

As we progress, TCB leads us to an awkward corner of a room that we can't see in. The terrain was kind of like a bunch of uneven sized steps. As we're fumbling through, something terrible happens. DG...breaks a heel. She's ranting and raving and slapping TCB upside the head for breaking her shoe. Her shit fit gets the attention of an employee and she demands to be taken out of there because she was not following “that idiot” anymore. So the employee opens a side door and takes her out. In doing so, he let a TON of light into the room and completely ruined the atmosphere you were going for. It's like when you're riding Space Mountain and the lights come on – the experience is blown for the rest of the ride. (Or you become all too aware of how close the cars come to each other and the structure, which again, ruins the experience). I'm wondering how this is even going to make me a tad scared now that we've seen all the nooks in this rather large part, and from that can extrapolate the rest.

So we're going along, and everyone is joking like we're just hanging out playing Scrabble. We reach the “spooky insane asylum” part of the house. There's lot of little rooms where the live actor doctors are experimenting on live actor patients and it's actually kind of unsettling since that kind of stuff actually did happen, and I start to get a little weirded out. (In general, the only kind of horror movies that every really scared me were those set in old style insane asylums because again, a lot of that actually happened to some extent). However, then one of the doctors threw a “heart” at us and it comically bounced as it hit the floor.

As we are about to round the corner out of the asylum, you pass one last actor in a cage, alternating between quietly asking to be let out and then screaming about “them” at you. He was actually pretty good (for the 2 minutes you see him, anyway). We move on to another “disorientation” type room.

Here, the “short arms” problem gets exacerbated by the wonky room design, and I lose LBM for a bit. I honestly get a little scared here, some knee-jerk reaction to being abandoned. I rush to catch up, and start hearing a lot of weird breathing behind me. I first wonder if we've gone in a circle (it had happened before), and this was just TCB, but then I hear him aways ahead. Now I am actually starting to freak out because his voice seems very far away and parts of my brain are realizing that I am 12 and it's okay to be afraid and besides, I don't know these people anyway. I try to tell myself the weird breathing is just me, sounding funny because I don't expect to be freaking out. I hurry more to find LBM. Then...everything happens at once.

1) I locate LBM's shoulder (he had a leather vest, so he was easy to determine) and feel relief.

2) Something touches my shoulder

3) Someone whispers “I'll just give them you instead” in my ear

4) Brain realizes it must defend itself and initiates action

5) Brain realizes one second to late to do anything the situation and origin of voice

So yeah...In short, I panicked and assaulted an attraction employee. In the worst way possible.

I screamed out “I'm sorry!!” but I think the guy had disappeared to go take a breather. I pretty much push the line the rest of the way out of the house. In the last room, someone chases you with a chainsaw, but I blaze away from him before he even gets the chance to try to get in my face. I almost tackle LBM in a mad race to flee. I am in full on panic mode when I reach the sidewalk outside, hyperventilating, desperately trying to find my mom. (I honestly can't tell you which scared me more – that guy making me jump out of my skin, or the possibility that I would get in trouble for kicking said dude in the jewels) However...there is no mom. I curl up on a bench and some squirrel gets all up in my business as I wait there, telling myself I am just the worst badass ever.

Finally, my mom arrives, jokingly commenting that their “lame things” took a little longer than expected. She ask me how it goes and I say that we just don't need to talk about it ever. She smiles that knowing mom smile, and asks if I want ice cream...or is that “too lame?”.

I ate the hell out of that ice cream.

Friday, May 13, 2011

I'm not dead!

This is a little post to prove that I haven't forgotten this blog exists, and also to mention that I have been appropriately shamed for not updating.

I have some reasons for not posting - I was doing adult things. First, Kane and I bought a house.

It is all pretty and houselike, with walls and stairs and a garbage disposal (in which a measuring spoon got stuck and I unclogged it all by myself LIKE A BOSS). So we MOVED ALL THE THINGS and have been getting settled in. Why did we buy a house, you may be wondering? Well, I am expecting a baby in September.

The small creature is a boy. So that's...exciting. What with the weight gain and the puking and random pain. Woo. Hoo. In all seriousness, I am quite happy and excited and all that jazz.

Time Out: I was sitting cross-legged typing this up and twitched my toes a little bit. My peripheral vision decided that my toes were actually giant bugs of doom and that my response needed to be complete unbridled terror. I literally flew across the couch.

This is 37% of why I can't get things done. Also yes, that is a plush Companion Cube and the 2010 Winter Olympic Mascot (Quatchi the Sasquatch). They live on my couch. yeah, baby. Apologizing now for any slew of nauseating "oooh, progeny!" posts which come up in the future.

So that's things for me right now, with even more things possibly coming up on the horizon.

I have a more interesting post in the works (where have you heard that before), but this time there is actually work occurring on it. :)