Long time, no see/read
Yeah...no internet over the summer and the nation's future has been keeping me pretty busy lately.
Teaching at the alma mater is a bit surreal at times.
I started my day yesterday morning w/ a parent conference that was monitored by the same assistant principal that used to suspend me when I was a student. I'm still not sure how to deal with that.
I'll get the train back on the tracks with a piece that I wrote about my experiences at Dragon Con.
and this is only half of the weekend:
Growing up, I was the kid that collected baseball cards, not Magic cards and comic books. I’m not passing judgment; I’m simply stating facts. Dear reader, you may ask why in the name of sweet plastic Jesus are you telling me this? After all, we’ve just met, and who really gives a crap about my childhood.
I did not and still do not diddly about comic books, sci-fi, role-playing games and all of the things that provide the gloriously geeky foundation for the beloved Dragon-Con.
Why would a schmuck like myself go to this convention?
Take a moment to answer the following questions:
Do you like costumes?
Large crowds?
Strange and interesting people?
Spam?
Erik Estrada?
Star Wars?
Do you find yourself sitting at the mall while your wife/husband/kid/boyfriend/manservant/girlfriend/sweet hot bitch wanders aimlessly through the soulless conglomerate of terrorism-defeating merchants of useless bullshit observing the consumers in their natural habitat?
One might say that human beings have the highest level of intelligence and that ability, armed with our sweetass opposable thumbs, make us the superior beings of the planet. While the jury is still out on our alleged superiority, we are definitely some entertaining beings and with Dragon Con, the proof is in the pudding.
Just imagine 100,000 homo-sapiens all gussied up in anything ranging from a drunkass Pooh Bear to a full platoon of Storm Troopers.
It’s like the airport around the holidays with badass costumes, without the hassle of security, and you get to drink.
The ultimate goal and my mantra for the weekend: No labor on Labor Day. I strongly feel that it is my civic duty adhere to all National Holidays and celebrate them accordingly, and Labor Day would be no different.
Saturday:
Get to the ATL and find a fucking parking garage downtown, which was an adventure in and of itself. This year, my peeps and I did it up right and got a room at the Westin, right in the middle of the action. Much to my delight, I discovered that DC ’07 wasn’t the only weirdo sheriff in town. There was some sort of militant lesbian convention and the National Clogging Championship was going down. So much to do, so little time.
I feel the need to inform my audience of an awesome game that my cohorts and I firmly believe will replace trivia night at the Taco Mac. It will be referred to as “Conventionspotting.” It’s like Trainspotting w/o the heroin and dead babies. Actually there are more differences, and I’ve just realized that the only similarity is that both form a compound word with “spotting” in the rear. Spotting in the rear is nasty. Throw your shitty skivvies away chirrun. So here are the rules:
Only one “spotting” per floor (there are a few exemptions that will be explained). The idea is to keep moving, not get hammered drunk in the corner of a convention center. The overarching idea is to promote awareness and prevent untimely pedestrian death.
If any of the following things are “spotted”(or “seen” if you wanna be a dick about it) then you make one of your companions drink:
1. Thigh highs
2. Non-regulation storm trooper e.g. Elvis Storm trooper
3. Muffin top (Fat girl with a hanging tummy)
4. Bitch who can beat me up (there was a separate convention full of ‘em.)
5. Fat chick w/ skinny guy or vice versa
6. Chain mail
If any of the following things are “spotted,” all bets are off. This is what we refer to as “no-limit spottings” (no relation to Master P’s next single “No-limit spottings: touch my doodee drawers” featuring R. Kelly):
1. Furries (EVERYBODY DRINKS on this one b/c people that dress up like animals and dry hump deserve some booze all around)
2. Mullets
3. Midgets dressed up like KISS
After setting up the best game ever, we were on our way.
I knew it was gonna be a good night when I witnessed the following: a jazz trio playing the Imperial Death March as the geeks strolled by in their best regalia.
I was stone cold sober at this point.
But it didn’t last long.
Teaching at the alma mater is a bit surreal at times.
I started my day yesterday morning w/ a parent conference that was monitored by the same assistant principal that used to suspend me when I was a student. I'm still not sure how to deal with that.
I'll get the train back on the tracks with a piece that I wrote about my experiences at Dragon Con.
and this is only half of the weekend:
Growing up, I was the kid that collected baseball cards, not Magic cards and comic books. I’m not passing judgment; I’m simply stating facts. Dear reader, you may ask why in the name of sweet plastic Jesus are you telling me this? After all, we’ve just met, and who really gives a crap about my childhood.
I did not and still do not diddly about comic books, sci-fi, role-playing games and all of the things that provide the gloriously geeky foundation for the beloved Dragon-Con.
Why would a schmuck like myself go to this convention?
Take a moment to answer the following questions:
Do you like costumes?
Large crowds?
Strange and interesting people?
Spam?
Erik Estrada?
Star Wars?
Do you find yourself sitting at the mall while your wife/husband/kid/boyfriend/manservant/girlfriend/sweet hot bitch wanders aimlessly through the soulless conglomerate of terrorism-defeating merchants of useless bullshit observing the consumers in their natural habitat?
One might say that human beings have the highest level of intelligence and that ability, armed with our sweetass opposable thumbs, make us the superior beings of the planet. While the jury is still out on our alleged superiority, we are definitely some entertaining beings and with Dragon Con, the proof is in the pudding.
Just imagine 100,000 homo-sapiens all gussied up in anything ranging from a drunkass Pooh Bear to a full platoon of Storm Troopers.
It’s like the airport around the holidays with badass costumes, without the hassle of security, and you get to drink.
The ultimate goal and my mantra for the weekend: No labor on Labor Day. I strongly feel that it is my civic duty adhere to all National Holidays and celebrate them accordingly, and Labor Day would be no different.
Saturday:
Get to the ATL and find a fucking parking garage downtown, which was an adventure in and of itself. This year, my peeps and I did it up right and got a room at the Westin, right in the middle of the action. Much to my delight, I discovered that DC ’07 wasn’t the only weirdo sheriff in town. There was some sort of militant lesbian convention and the National Clogging Championship was going down. So much to do, so little time.
I feel the need to inform my audience of an awesome game that my cohorts and I firmly believe will replace trivia night at the Taco Mac. It will be referred to as “Conventionspotting.” It’s like Trainspotting w/o the heroin and dead babies. Actually there are more differences, and I’ve just realized that the only similarity is that both form a compound word with “spotting” in the rear. Spotting in the rear is nasty. Throw your shitty skivvies away chirrun. So here are the rules:
Only one “spotting” per floor (there are a few exemptions that will be explained). The idea is to keep moving, not get hammered drunk in the corner of a convention center. The overarching idea is to promote awareness and prevent untimely pedestrian death.
If any of the following things are “spotted”(or “seen” if you wanna be a dick about it) then you make one of your companions drink:
1. Thigh highs
2. Non-regulation storm trooper e.g. Elvis Storm trooper
3. Muffin top (Fat girl with a hanging tummy)
4. Bitch who can beat me up (there was a separate convention full of ‘em.)
5. Fat chick w/ skinny guy or vice versa
6. Chain mail
If any of the following things are “spotted,” all bets are off. This is what we refer to as “no-limit spottings” (no relation to Master P’s next single “No-limit spottings: touch my doodee drawers” featuring R. Kelly):
1. Furries (EVERYBODY DRINKS on this one b/c people that dress up like animals and dry hump deserve some booze all around)
2. Mullets
3. Midgets dressed up like KISS
After setting up the best game ever, we were on our way.
I knew it was gonna be a good night when I witnessed the following: a jazz trio playing the Imperial Death March as the geeks strolled by in their best regalia.
I was stone cold sober at this point.
But it didn’t last long.
posted by Cecil at 6:31 AM
2 Comments:
Awesome game idea. I laughed my ass off. I'm definitely doing this game (or some variation of it) as soon as I get the chance.
wow. Midgets dressed up like kiss, that deserves a whole bottle of jameson in itself.
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