Sunday I bought a stake.
It was pointy, finished in with a dark stain and hand carved. I had my Buffybot costume on, but alas, no stake. I felt guilty
even buying a stake when I knew that I had plenty of stakes at home. But I finally told myself that it was okay to treat oneself
to a ten dollar stake...it was not okay to spend an extra five bucks for a leather holster. This would be my first regret.
After the staff meeting, I went to the exhibit room and looked for appropriate gifts for my pals. I swear, I think it the
Latina in me, I go on a trip and buy three times as much stuff for my friends than for myself. Next time I should just pack
an extra bag so that I can check the gifts. I bought the hubby a pink-orange shirt that said "Nintendo High Score" on it,
my friend Patrice got a Blade Poster and an autographed copy of an X-Men comic and Kellygirl got two "Kelly" dolls dressed
up like the Witches of Oz. 'Cause Kell can be my good witch and bad witch any day.
After placing a call to Wisteria to make a lunch date 'cause hello, how can I come to Atlanta and not see her, I went over
to the Danny James Q+A. Lord knows I like him, but boy does not need to be doing crowds by himself. Not only was his voice
pitched low, but his natural cadence is slow and he speaks softly. It makes for a very boring Q+A. It's fine for an interview
but there is not enough energy to cater to a large crowd. The only interesting thing I remember is that Danny surreptitiously
drove the Zoot car one day, but he refused to give more details about that. Mr. James has to be careful, after all, he is
still employed by Cloud 9.
Wisteria picked me up and whisked me off to a Bar & Grill named Vortex. It was lovely to talk to a grown-up and a fan. I
had witnessed much rude and childish behavior over the weekend and I was feeling very, very old. It was nice of Wisteria to
let me vent my frustration on her. Plus we got to talk politics. And y'all know how much I love that. The burgers were delicious,
our conversation was light, fun and hopelessly scattered as we jumped from one topic to the next. I had an awesome time, despite
nearly being blinded or decapitated.
See, I was sitting under a window that swung out, instead of up. I guess the chain broke and the window came crashing down.
The odd part is that the window was directly above my head. It was impossible for me to see it coming. And yet, as it fell,
I had the distinct impression of a chair flying accross the room and towards me. I cringed and turned my head, awaiting a
blow. And yet I didn't cover my face, because a part of me thought I was hallucinating and the vain part of me (a very big
and insecure part of me) didn't want to look crazy- flinching and cowering at nothing. I don't remember seeing it as much
as envisioning it. What I think happened is that out of the corner of my eye, my depth perception alerted me to the threat
of sharp metal and glass coming my way. My brain filled in the gaps. I felt the whooosh! of hair above my head and my nose
itched where the window had swung in front of it. The slam was deafening and of course, everyone was staring at us.
The funny part was the aftermath. I begin to giggle. For some reason, the window nearly gouging my eyes out or scalping me
struck me as absurd. I mean, who goes to a Con and comes back blind? Besides, my life has always been unpredictable and I've
had brushes with death before. The things that scare me are all spiritual and emotional. Oh and heights. And plunging to
my firey death in a plane. Okay, I'm not Ms. Braveheart or anything. I tried assuring Wisteria that really I was o.k., but
poor girl brushed off my self absorption and emphasized that she was not okay. She needed a cigarrette and fast. To add
one last touch of crazyness, the waiter tried to swing the window back up over my head, in it's original guillotine position.
He seemed annoyed when the both of us ordered him to leave it alone.
Wisteria gave me a driving tour of downtown Atlanta and I have to say, the city is beautiful. I have no desire to be a liberal
in a conservative state, but if it wasn't for that and what I can imagine to be a rampant case of culture shock, I'd totally
move there. And then I could be a weekly Lady who Lunches with Wisteria! She dropped me off at the Hyatt and I walked in
just in time for the Cast q+a. Then I got to pitch in for the Fashion Show. I got to play DJ. Basically it meant I got to
dance in my chair off in a corner where no one could see me and adjust the volume up and down. The hardest part was finding
the volume button. It took me a bit. The ass-wiggling was easy, as per usual.
The Fashion Show was a sucess. I really admire the creativity and effort they put into their costumes. As they twirled around
on stage, however, I suddenly had a thought. The cast was seated directly in front of the stage. Could they see up people's
skirts? I made a mental note to add this thought to my feedback at the end of the event and prayed everyone wore clean underwear.
I am proud to say that BlackRose, our interview cinematographer won Best Costume. Fabulous Girls Productions makes it a point
to know all the "it" people. It's part of our fabulosity. You rock, Black Rose!
After the show, it was back to my room to change for the Masquerade and Cabaret. But as usual, I didn't want to go myself,
especially since I was wigging out over my dress. I wore a spagetti strap sparkly blue tank top that coordinated with a blue
satin pencil skirt. It was very revealing. I wasn't sure whether or not I could pull it off. Plus, my breasts were larger
than they were in college (shoot let's be real, all of me is larger now than when I was in college), which was when I had
bought the dress. I wasn't sure that the built in bra was all it was cracked up to be. After worrying, changing and then
changing again, I opted for conservative. I paired the skirt with a loose black sparkly sweater with 3/4 length sleeves.
It did have a deep square neckline, but at least I wasn't spilling and jiggling all over the place. I wore a tight bustier
underneath to keep those babies in-line. Expensive lingerie is your friend, ladies! Don't be tempted by cheap bras!
For those of you who are still with me, I commend you. Not everyone cares about outfits as much as I do. You would think
that I would have taken a picture. But all that worrying about spillage, self-hating talk about needing to lose weight, and
fantasizing about lipo (I have issues) only made me late and there was no time. So I called ScapeBabe and arranged to be her
date for the Cabaret. Of course, she would bring along a wingman (Matt Robinson) but I was confident I could shake him.
I was supposed to meet the two of them at the Hotel, but I took a short-cut. In the dark, in downtown, through a creepy park.
Oops. Not only did I get lost, but I banged my knee and developed a run in my stocking.
Completely frazzled, I met scapebabe and Matt at the Cabaret. We were really early so while they did sound tech stuff, I
got to stare at Scapebabe's dress. Y'all should see it. It was this beautful silver grey dress with fantastic celtic like
embroidery. The designs looked painted on, but if you moved in closesly (and I did, because I'm a sleazy date) you could
see that the embroidery was raised. Instantly, I felt totally cheap. I wanna be a princess too! Oh well, I resigned myself
to the arm candy role, something I am good at since any idiot can make small talk and smile. Scape and I sat down and watched
the Atlanta Radio Company perform two pieces. I liked the first sci-fi piece, but good Lord, I don't remember Robert Heinlein
being so completely cheesy. He wrote some piece about some love sick girl and the performers even included kissy-face noises.
I had to tip my head back in order to keep my eyes from rolling out of their sockets. Yes, my eye rolling muscles were getting
quite a work out this weekend.
Then the Cabaret kicked off! We instantly jumped up and made a play for the front seats. Alas, our binding party clothes hampered
our movements and we ended up sitting in row 2. It's not easy being beautiful. However, we still had primo seats. The first
performer was a man named Peter David. I think he's a famous comic book writer. He sang "Rainbow Connection" in Kermit-voice
while someone in the audience blew bubbles. Then he busted out with some songs I had never heard of, but I liked. Something
about exploding pigeons in the park. He ended his set with a rousing rendition of "If I Were A Rich Man." I found him more
enjoyable than the kid who came on afterwards, a young boy who could kick himself in the face. Everytime he did that, I cringed
and covered my eyes. See? I am scared of things! Scared of kids kicking themselves in the face.
After the Matt Robinson's performance at Cabaret (I review it in another post.) , I chatted with some of the back-up musicians.
Turns out one of them composed in the same school of jazz that the hubby composes in. And he knew the hubby's mentors! So,
if I do end up moving to Atlanta and the hubby grows dissatisfied with the life of a rock producer, he can return to his avant-garde
roots. Neat, huh? Since I was Scapebabe's date, it was my duty to remove myself from the conversation and escort her to
her next party. I even did my gallant date duty by helping her avoid a very awkward encounter with another drunk Con guest.
He walked up to Scape and said, "You know, now that I am drunk, I can tell you what I can never admit to you when I'm sober,
I-" I don't know what else he said because I promptly pushed Scape past the man and chanted "go, go, go!" That sentence could
not end well. Either it was a declaration of undying love or hate. I didn't think my date needed to hear that.
What she did need to hear was how I was now going to get her drunk and alone in her room. See? Sleazy. Arkhamrefugee and Matt
joined us and we headed off to a party. But alas, regular staff like me was not invited. So, Arkhamrefugee was kind enough
to take me to a Voltaire concert. I was really intrigued. Arkhamrefugee teased me for not being more enthusiastic about
my clapping, but hey. I go to musical performances all the time. It takes a lot to move me nowadays. Plus, I was really concentrating
on Voltaire's performance. I liked his stage presence, his banter but I had to strain my ears to make out what he was saying.
Clapping is reserved for people whose songs I know by heart and thus don't need to pay attention to. So is the dancing. And
the groping. And the making out. But I digress. Voltaire? Is really good and really good looking. I was told about his hottness,
but I had seen his album cover and was not impressed. I prefer Chris Cornell over Dave Navarro, you know? However, in person?
Man is sexy. I totally understand Es's flove.
Arkhamrefugee went to go get his drink on, so Scape returned to my awaiting arms. We were going to make Es's dreams come
true. She convinced Voltaire to give Es a call and to arrange a meeting. All I had to do was make sure she had her phone
on so she could take the call. She claimed to hate our guts, but we were true friends. Most friends will confront you with
the guy of your dreams, giggle and run away, while you flutter into stupidness. Even though stupidness is not a word, you
manage to reach that state. Scape and I did not abandon Es. We dragged her up to Voltaire, stood by her and in no way did
we giggle or do anything that encouraged more nervousness. We rock.
Scape mentioned she was tired so we went up to her room. Awwww, yeah! We got all intimate as I took the chance to get a bit
more comfortable and get to "know" Scape better. Seriously, this was the first time I got a chance to talk to her one on one
about non-fandom things. It was nice. You guys can email me if you want to know more of the kiss and tell details of my alone
time with Scape. Suddenly, there was a party in the room. I met some of Scape's friends and had an interesting conversation
with Paldin47. Later, Arkhamrefugee returned with Danny James in tow and proposed a quest for libations. Before Danny left,
he paid me a very wonderful compliment about my interview skills. I don't know if it was the demon drink talking, but it was
nice of him to even take the time at a party to mention the interview.
Well, in traditional sleazy date style, I cut and run as soon as things slowed down. I started to get sleepy as we waited
for people and the drinks to arrive. My problem is that I am not used to waiting for entertainment. The hubby hates this
about me. I either provide my own fun or demand that the fun come to me. Sometimes this means I eat, fuck or go to sleep simply
because there is nothing else to do! I grew bored with waiting and since it seemed that Scape had plenty of other people
to hang with, I headed back to my hotel. It was very dark and strangely quiet. Even though it was vaguely reminiscent of
a Walk of Shame, I enjoyed the stroll. The night was beautiful, I had enjoyed myself immensely and now I was going to sleep
in a warm bed with person in it who didn't mind me stealing the covers. Excellent.