(no subject)

Saturday dawned bright and clear, with me burrowed in my bed and snarling at my alarm clock. I needed to be up early, in the shower and then dressed, because a crew of us were heading to WizardCon in Philadelphia (comic book convention). I hadn't gotten good sleep the night before; I kept drifting in that strange area in between sleep and dream and then jolting awake for no reason whatsoever. At one point, I was convinced that someone was in the apartment (I'd dreamt I heard the front door slam shut) and had to do a bleary-eyed, stalker-movie walkthrough of the place before I could be satisfied that I was just getting my crazy all over everything.

I managed to forget my camera for the convention, only realizing once we were well and truly proper on our way. hrmph.

Wemble and I foraged through the dealer room, looking for interesting things (she was looking for manga and I mocked her a lot about it). The Engineer looked for comics to fill the spaces on his list. And Mister Kyle, well, I don't know what the hell he did most of the day, except be obnoxiously hilarious.

I had explained cosplay to the Engineer the night before, while trying to convince him that the convention was going to be made of awesome. I don't think he quite believed me until he spotted his first one: a girl dressed as the Baroness from GI Joe. hee. We also saw a Darth Vader, a Boba Fett, some fat guy in white sweatpants dressed as one of the people from Team Rocket (I almost lost my mind), and the Littlest Storm Trooper. The Littlest Storm Trooper was not, as you may imagine, a child. Instead, they were a head shorter than their other Storm Trooper companions. Kyle geeked out over this for about an hour and I almost collapsed laughing. At one point, Wemble and I ran into Kevin Person and had a brief conversation with him where I dropped an empty Vitamin Water bottle and he told me that since I'd lost my boyfriend in the crowd, I could take my pick of "all the other good-looking guys here". hah. None of them would have the same sweet dance moves as the Engineer. I reckon I'll keep him.

My only purchase was a squeaky, two-headed stuffed bat doll from Devout Dolls. Their names are Fang and Chewy. I almost had him taken away from me in the car because I was having squeaky conversations with him.

Kyle: You do realize that if I had bought that doll, I'd have been kicked out of the car by now?
me: *squeaky squeaky squeaky* You know what that translates as? "No one cares what you have to say."

It also has been decided that my life's mission is to open a ghetto-ass hair salon called, "Cut A Bitch". I called Joanna to tell her about this. In return, she told me that our Baltimore office manager has not one, but two gold teeth. And they're her canines. I am in love.

I serenaded everyone in the car, performing a duet of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" at one point with the Engineer for about twenty minutes before Wemble threatened to kill us and loot our bodies. We had lunch/dinner at Olive Garden where I drank no sangria (hrmph), ate a chocolate gelato that now owns my soul, and almost got caught shouting about vaginas and the Engineer's great love for them by our waitress.

Home found me swiftly passing out on my couch while Wemble watched an episode of Penn and Teller's Bullshit. I couch-slept for a bit, well and truly taken over by exhaustion, and thusly, missed out on a trip to visit Rowan and The Husband (and the Amazing Larry, who is apparently now known as Smooth-Talking Larry or somesuch). Couch sleep is a wonderous thing, but I woke up in a daze, thinking I was hungry. Wandered into the kitchen, prepared a beef stroganoff half-asleep, then decided I actually wasn't hungry. It's still on the stove. I should put that away.

Now I'm wide-awake. The Engineer has gone to bed. And I don't have anything I really want to do. I could do laundry, but I don't feel like it. I could read, but I don't feel like it. I could roll cigarettes, but I really don't feel like that.

Sleep again soon? Perhaps.