Someone for everyone

                In an earlier post I discussed the phrase “There is someone out there for everyone,” which irritates me to no end.  I said if you are going to tell me this then you need to tell me where she is. I think this is a fair demand. Of course, I do not think anyone is out there for me. People always say try to find your soul mate. This opens other questions with me.

                Can you have a soul mate if you do not actually have a soul? People have told me that I am missing that one item. They tell me things like this all the time. I have heard compassion and a metaphoric heart as well. At least I hope they mean a metaphoric heart as it would be hard to keep on living without it.

                What if your soul mate is a walnut and you eat it without even knowing it? What if it is some other inanimate object like a garden gnome? Come on, those gnomes have to serve some purpose…

                What if you are straight and your soul mate is the same gender?

                What if you are closely related to your soul mate (EWWWW, sorry that one just occurred to me and yes, I am a little-no, a lot, sickened by the idea)?

                What if you sell your soul to the devil? Does that mean the devil has rights to your soul mate?

                What if your soul mate is an animal? Treating an animal like a soul mate gets the police and PETA involved and no one wants that. I do not think they would accept soul mate as an excuse for certain kinds of behavior. Freak.

                What if they died hundreds of years ago?

                Of course the main problem with the concept of soul mates is that most people think a certain celebrity fills the bill. Repeated letters, calls and visits to their home while they are out (with a requisite going inside the house and rifling through their belongings. It is okay to do this as long as you are their number one fan and you have the paperwork to prove it) are ignored.  All this gets you is the police involved and a restraining order telling you that the celebrity no longer wants you near them. Don’t worry, they are just playing hard to get.

                Back to my point (if there even is one) is that the phrase ”There is someone out there for everyone” is completely misleading and a lie. People tell me this is a rule which means there is an exception to it. Yes, I know that I am the exception, which is fine since I like breaking rules---especially grammar ones.

                With my luck I have already met my soul mate and they were so put off by my sarcastic nature or my “meh” attitude or any number of other flaws they sworn off men completely and now life a life of complete solitude where they commune with nature and only eat wheat by-products. Apparently I am good at turning people and since we were supposed to be together I turned her especially hard.

                I suppose they might be right and there is someone made for me. I fear certain things if this is correct.

                She is a TV/movie character and I will only see her on the screen which, as everyone knows, will not keep me warm on a cold night.

                She is even kinkier than I am. That is probably not possible but one can never tell.

                She is allergic to me personally and keeps sneezing on me.

                She thinks the Kardashians and the cast of “Jersey Shore” are really fascinating people.

                She looks at me and asks me to take off my mask. When I tell her that this is not a mask she laughs and walks away.

                Is there a website for finding  your soul mate, like a site that guarantees you will find your soul mate in three months or they will give you one month free?

                                    

                                                                                               Her majesty, Kim Bookless, made this better.

Keep it confidential

                I have been employed by several school districts and they all have strict confidentiality agreements which limit how much I can write about them. I am going to put down what I am allowed to write about. The rest of this blog will clearly demonstrate how much the confidentially agreements allows me to say or write.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                That is all I can say without violating my agreement.

Cautionary Tale

              If you read my earlier blog posts you have seen my story about my ultra conservative family. What I did not tell you is that I have become a cautionary tale to my family (like the boogeyman, but I don’t just hide out in closets). By cautionary I mean I am the one they use to scare their children into submission. It seems to work and it only required one nephew staying with me to scare their kids straight. Apparently when he got home he told his mother (my sister) that he didn’t want to be poor and please not to send him to live in the sad place anymore. I am so pleased that my house is now called the sad place.

                Not that I really wanted my nephew to come stay with me. My sister, Janie May, called me to say Peter was in trouble and she did not know what to do next. She said she was sending him to me for a little while.  My response was immediate.

                “The hell you are!” I thought I was being firm since I really do not want a delinquent in my house. I have enough trouble with two surly cats. I don’t need a teen in the mix. I say that because I have worked in a public school and I know what those kids are listening to today. I don’t want some kid with Bieber Fever in my house. Then Janie May played her trump card.

                “You better let Peter in or I will tell mom what you have been doing instead of coming to family meetings.”

                “You wouldn’t.”

                “I would so tell her that you went to a liberal political rally. See what happens then.” She had me. It is a real threat since liberal is a dirty word in our mother’s house. Granted, they all know I am a little (okay, a lot) off but that’s inexcusable in this family.

                Eventually the boy came around to my house. We spent the first night just staring at each other.

                “Mom made me come here.”

                “I know.”

                “Your house is small.”

                “So am I. It works out that way.”

                “Mom said you move around a lot.”

                “That’s true enough.”

                “Mom said you have never had a real relationship.”

                “Also true. Sad, but true.”

                “Mom says you’re just going to feed me spinach, okra and kale.”

                “Your mother is a damned liar!”  

                At this point, my two giant monsters came into the kitchen and began circling Peter.

                “What are those?” He asked as he pointed at them.

                “Those are my cats.”

                “They’re huge.”

                “Yes, they are. Try not to show fear. They live for that.”

                “Why are they staring at me?”

                “You could be their next meal. Try to sleep with one eye open.”

                “Don’t they stay with you at night?”

                “They’re not allowed to sleep in my room at night. I’m not going to die that way. Watch out for when you wake up to their sniffing your eyes. That means you are in trouble.”

                “How long do I have to stay here?”

                “Until I can find a way to get your mom to take you back. The sooner you leave the better. The cats don’t like you but don’t take it too personally. They don’t like anyone.”

                “I’m hungry.”

                “There is ketchup and lettuce in the fridge. That’s all I have right now.”

                He stared at me. I stared at him. The cats stared at him. He continued to stare at me. I shrugged. He took out his cell phone and called his mother.

                “Mom, I am so sorry. I want to come home and promise I will never do anything again. Please…” Two hours later (after he spent 73 minutes hiding from the cats) his mother came to pick him up. Word of this spread and they still talk about me. No one has ever come over since. 

                        

 

                                                                                      Her Majesty, Kim Bookless, made this better

                                            

Bailing me out

 

                This is a recent conversation I had about an upcoming convention. Realistically you could apply this conversation to any part of my life. Once you get to the end you will know how ashamed I should feel. But I don’t. Shame is such a useless emotion.

                “I’m going to need some bail money in November. “ You will not believe how many conversations I start this way.

                After a distinct pause (and a deep sigh) from Byron (let’s call him that since, well, it is his name) he said, “Wait a minute. November is months away. How do you know you’re going to need bail?”

                “Well, there is a convention coming.”

                “Uh-huh. I am going to need more than that. “

                “The con is having several celebrities show up to sign autographs and ____________ (this is where you can put in one of the following names; Jennifer Love Hewitt, Lucy Liu, Holly Marie Combs, Gillian Anderson or Amber Benson. Any of them will do just fine. They are listed in no particular order) is going to be there. “

Amber Benson

 

                “You know you don’t have to do anything.” He says this after I tell him my nefarious plans to meet people at the con (most of which he thinks is going to involve security in one fashion or another).

                “We both know that is not really an option. I don't have a choice. It is going to happen.”

                For some reason, whenever I approach him, Byron starts speaking in a low voice and saying the same thing over and over, “Don’t get arrested. Don’t get arrested.” He seems to feel that subliminal training is the best way to go with me.

                It is not like I want to get arrested. It is just that people do not appreciate certain behaviors or statements that may come out wrong. Like saying “I have been following you for a long time” instead of what you meant “I have been following your career for a long time.”

                Celebrities also don’t like it when you stand there and stare at them mutely. Don’t say a word. Just look at them with your mouth hanging open. That won’t make them uncomfortable in the least. You should try it. Stand there silently, mouth agape. Throw in a few grunts for good measure. They will love you all the more for it. Or, more specifically, they will love when you leave.

                Of course this is a good way to meet new people as you will become very acquainted with con security and if you do this long enough, you will be on a first name basis with them.  Like when you enter the con and they nod in greeting since they know you.

                “Morning, George.”

                “Morning, Al. What’s on the schedule today?”

                “Thought I would head to the celebrity room about 1:30, check out who’s there.”

                George starts writing in his schedule book, “You said 1:30?” I love it when security pencils me in. It means they have my back or, more specifically, my hands behind my back as they drag me away.

                Dragon*Con was the first time I have met celebrities at cons. Well, except for one instance at NYCC last year but I don’t have any photos of that so there is no actual proof anything even happened. At Dragon I was able to meet several celebrities. One was Amber Benson whom I have discussed in my DC recaps.

                The others were cast member from “Farscape” (squeal).  No, I did not get into any trouble at DC. Of course you have to understand that I did not get to the room with Gillian Anderson. That may have changed everything but for the lack of 60 dollars to spend on her, the convention was saved. This time there is photographic evidence (which might actually work against me).

Rebecca Riggs

 

               

 

Virginia Hey

Gigi Edgely

 

 

Here is the phrase every parent longs to hear from a child, “I am in con security lockup again.” The again really adds something.

                Of course, if you go to cons you will find out that the celebrities have handlers. These are people who help the celebrity with anything the celebrity needs over the weekend. I have decided I want to be a professional celebrity handler but only for the ones listed above. This statement, when mentioned to a certain person (see above) causes him to sigh and say in a very loud voice “That is not what they mean by handler. You’re ridiculous!”

                Yes, yes I am.

                And to answer an earlier statement (in case you were wondering) Byron would not bail me out. He would let me rot in there. Probably for the best.

 

                                                                                                Kim Bookless made this better.

 

Final Dragon 2012 recap

Dragon, the final day.

                So I have survived everything Dragon had to throw at me but then I came to Sunday, which was the game changer. After Saturday I was just glad for a chance to breathe. The convention was not nearly as crowded as it was on Saturday which was a huge relief. I could no longer afford to tip all the people who had their hands all over me. It is terrible when you go broke from giving tips to people for a service you basically did not need. Of course many of them commented that I have so much tension built up all over. I’m not sure how to take that.  Any way I take it is probably the wrong way.

                I was leaving the next day so I call this my last chance day, my Hail Mary day, my day to run around madly and try to get everything done. Like most things in my life, I failed at this too. After lugging around Ted Naifeh’s books (to get signed) for two days and not seeing him I decided not to bring them today. Guess who I ran into on Sunday?

                I was there for the big Marvel shoot which was the biggest photo shoot I saw over the weekend. Hundreds of people dressed up as all kinds of Marvel characters from the popular (Spider-Man and Avengers characters) to the lesser-known ones (Squirrel Girl and Frankie Raye).

At the end two men came out to get married. As I watched it occurred to me that this looked just like the wedding of Northstar in an “X-Men” comic recently. There was a reason for this. They were recreating the whole tableau.

During the ceremony there was a pop and another photographer spun around. “What was that?” he asked.

                “Dan Cathy’s head exploding” I replied.

                During the large photo shoot, Brandy (she goes under Lucid Cosplay to the general public) approached me and asked me to hold her purse. All the other photographers began to giggle and smirk while some even had the audacity to make snide comments about my masculinity (of which I really don’t have any so the comments had nowhere to go). Since I was among strangers (well, no one is stranger than me) I decided to turn the attack on them.

                “Hey, at least I have a woman’s purse to hold. What are you all holding?” I said loudly. Several of my mockers just turned away and stared down in shame at their cameras. I showed them.

                During the shoot, I looked around and saw a lot of Rogues at the X-Men subgroup. Rogue is my favorite Marvel character and some voice (I don’t know whose but I do know it was not mine since I don’t hear things) told me to call the Rogues over. I obeyed the unknown voice (as I am wont to do) and they listened (pardon me, I need a moment as I work my way through my Rogue bliss/overload. Next year I swear I am going to try this with Zatanna even though I fear several Zatannas in one spot will cause my head to explode). I had all these Rogues to myself and, out of nowhere, other photographers showed up, cameras at the ready. I was forced to share but I didn’t want to! Anyway, I set up several shots (which many people also have now). My directions were okay but Allan Hanserd has provided me with several ideas on how to make better shots, which I will utilize next time.

 

                All the other photographers now snapping away required (okay, it did not really require me but it seemed like the best thing to do) me to do something I had observed at photo shoots over the weekend. The person leading the shoots would set up a pose and after people had been taking shots for a bit started counting down. At the end of the countdown people stopped taking photos and allowed the models to relax. This also allowed for the next shot to get set up. So this is what I was forced to do. When I had my shots done I started counting down. The amazing part (besides the Rogues listening to me which I still weep in joy over) is that the photographers listened as well. I see this as an indication of the high level of respect for everyone who was there. That is probably the greatest thing I am taking away from the convention.

                One down side occurred when a cosplayer turned me away. I have known this one cosplayer (call her  -R- ) since last year told me that her eyes were hurting from all the flashes and did not want me to take her picture. I think she did this since she knew me. “Fine,” I said and walked back to my spot but what should I see when I turn back around but her in the middle of groups taking photos with her.

                What the what? My self-esteem just plummeted into a puddle on the carpet. Not that I had much before but that really did not help.

                That is when I ran into Thing 1 and Thing 2 or, as they like to be called, Sherri and Mae.

                They were walking around the Marriott looking at all the costumes. My submissive (shut up, I am) nature obeyed when the two of them (forcefully) demanded a picture. Then they MADE me walk around with them (just like they MADE me try sushi). They really did not give me a choice. You may not believe that but it is the completely varnished truth. We continually walked in circles around the hotel looking at all the people and what they had on.  

                And so, as all good things do, my three days came to an end. I got back on the bus to return to my hotel. As the bus pulled away from the curb a crowd of all the people I had met over the course of the weekend formed outside the main hotel. I was touched. I thought they were coming to see me so I announced that I will return next year, swearing this loud enough for them to hear me. In unison (once I completed my oath) every one of them held up a sign reading “The Hell you will.”

                I’m not sure how to take that.

Dragon*Con 2012 Part 3

Dragon*Con Report 3

                I finally dozed off from all the excitement of actually being at the convention but woke to the sound of someone opening the door to my hotel room. They flicked on  the lights and I saw two guys in suits come in the room.

                “Nothing to worry about, sir. We’re just hotel security doing routine checks since we know what all you Dragon*Con types are up to. Wait, there is only one of you here. Usually the rooms have about 10 people. That is so sad. Don’t you have any friends?” He asked these questions while his partner starting going through my bags, throwing my clothes onto the floor. I love being woken up at three in the morning and judged by security guards. I’m used to it but I don’t like it. Eventually the second guy announced that I was clean and they started to leave which is when the first guy suggested that I get some friends. I suppose it would have been too much to expect one of them to say “Have a good night” after that.

                Upon waking up what I consider to be way too early, I rode a bus back to the con where people began trickling in. The hotels were mostly empty as people were wisely still asleep. Obviously I am not one of the wise people. The booths around the hotel floor were not manned at this time. Even the information booth was deserted. I felt alone. I felt forlorn. I felt empty booths meant one thing; FREE SWAG! The looting began. I grabbed every flier I could. Yes, that’s right. I took fliers. What did you think I was going to take? How low an opinion of me do you have? Really people, I am not a crook (random Nixon reference. It was bound to happen).

                The hotels began to quickly fill (like a light bulb being turned on) and Friday’s activities began. A crossplay shoot is the first thing that I can recollect happening. Crossplay is when a person makes a cosplay of a certain character but changes the gender (like Mary Kate Smith portraying Wolverine as female.)

 

Cyclops is another good example of this.

 

Side note: That is Allen Lee Hansard in the background as Dr. Strange. He runs the Superhero Cosplay Forum, an ultrasecret group that sets up photo shoots at conventions. Oh, wait, maybe I shouldn’t be discussing it…

                During the shoot, the photographer lowered his camera and asked “Okay, who let Stan Lee in the shot? Can someone get him out of there?”

                That is not what happened. During the shoot a voice off to the side asked if he could get in on this. Everyone looks over and saw Stan Lee standing there. Like anyone is going to say no to him. Heck, he would even be welcome at DC shoot (he did write the “Just Imagine” series.) So he gets in the center and many photographs are taken. One person, as Spiderman (or woman) began to scream in joy after Mr. Lee left. “Stan Lee touched me! Stan Lee touched me!”

You’ll notice that even people who were not in costume got in on this.

                The rest of the day was spent walking around between the three main hotels. I got to see the celebrity room (not too crowded), artist alley (somewhat crowded) and the dealer’s room (very crowded). None of these rooms on Friday compared to the mass of people on Saturday. That day was wall to wall people and I spent all my money that particular day tipping for the amount of and type of touching I went through. People were pressed up against me and I could feel hands and bodies touching me in places I have not been touched in some time. It was like a thousand fingers pressing up against me all day long. I felt as though I should be thanking people for this but I am still not sure who to thank.

                One of the big draws was John Barrowman. Seriously, every woman I met swooned when his name was mentioned and they declared that was the one person they HAD to meet in the celebrity room. I made the mistake of saying “Ah, he’s not that great.” 43 women turned to face me at the same time. Even women on the other side of the room out of hearing range apparently just knew what I said turned towards me. Their eyes were ablaze (and I don’t say that lightly) and they began to move toward me.

                “What did you say” hissed the woman in front.

                “You heard me” I said defiantly, standing straight and tall.

                “Ladies, bring me the noose.” Now I am not very fast and am not a runner but I was this day. I ran long and I ran far. I did not stop until reaching the sign reading “Welcome to South Carolina.” At this point I turned and walked back just in time to make the next photo shoot. The rest of the weekend women stared at me with narrowed eyes and some even gave me the “I’m watching you” gesture.

                The most amazing thing is how I kept running into people I met at previous cons. No, I do not mean stalking when I say run into. The problem arises when they have no recollection of who I am. I say how great it is to see them again and I get a blank stare. They always ask "Have we met before?" My response is "Yeah, we met that one time at that one con where you were cosplaying that one character." Then they nod and say "Sure, now I remember." Below are some people I ran into again.

Ann McManus,

 

Victoria Centeno and Lucid Cosplay,

Han Pan,

 

 

and Stacey Allen

 

               

 To be concluded next time with what happened on Sunday.

Dragon*Con 2012 Part 2

Okay, in the earlier post, I discussed some basic things about Dragon. Now I am going to get deeper into the story. Rather than driving down there (since I have no friends which is a horrible, horrible way to live your life). I choose to fly--which brought me into direct contact with the TSA. If you read my earlier post about how to make a visit with the TSA more memorable then you know what I wrote. When I walked to one of the checkpoints where you have to show your ID, the agent stared at it for what I consider to be too long of a time. He asked if I was the same person who wrote that blog about the TSA.

                I was faced with a choice. I could take credit for my work and stand by every single idea I put in there or I could weasel out and say I never heard of it. I choose the path of least resistance and said I don’t write a blog, that is must be a different Al they are looking for. All the agents that had mysteriously appeared out of nowhere brandishing bats suddenly stepped back, my lie having mollified them.  Just to clarify, they did not really have bats. You are not going to turn me into one of those stories you see posted on the internet about how badly people were treated by the TSA. Nope, not a word.

                I have been to the Atlanta airport before and it is the only one I have been to that required an underground subway to get around in. The airport is really that big. I made the mistake of walking the distance the first time I arrived there. Never again.

                Upon arriving at the convention I looked for the registration line. I asked where it was and I was pointed toward a line.

                “That’s the pre-registered line” they told me pointing at a specific line.

                “But the line is moving!” I commented in disbelief (You’ll understand if you have been to a convention of this type. It has been two weeks and I am still in shock like it was a dream of some sort; a glorious, beautiful dream. I weep at the memory of it.) “That cannot be the line!” Others heard my statement and began chiming in (yes, I know this makes me an instigator) that pre registration lines are never that short and never move.  Throwing fuel onto the fire I began a chant “We want to wait! We want to wait!” Others quickly joined in. The mob swelled. Soon the hotel was filled with a thousand voices until the administrator yelled “Security!” At this point I ducked away and quietly slid into the fast moving line. Before I came here a supervisor told me not to get arrested. Okay, more like he begged and pleaded knowing who I am (mainly his advice was not to put my plan for getting free autographs from the celebrities in action but it applies to many, many other behaviors I have demonstrated). Before I left for my trip he kept muttering (in my presence) “Don’t get arrested, don’t get arrested, don’t get arrested,” as if I am going to fall into a subliminal trance. I did not get arrested so maybe it worked. Huh, who would have thought it? Plus, I think getting pulled out by security on the evening before the con even starts would set a bad precedent for the weekend.

                After this getting my badge, the phone calls began.

                “I’m here. Are you here yet?”

                “I cannot believe you made it.”

                “I can’t believe I am actually here.”

                I had always thought that the sound squueee was just a made up sound in comics to indicate extreme pleasure upon seeing a friend. I am now disabused of that concept since I found myself making that very noise upon seeing Sherri Lyn again and getting to meet her sister, Mae Fairchild. We met at a photo shoot where Sherri was wearing a very slinky dress with a long slit up her outfit revealing her legs and I had to resist the urge to say “Hello, girls” (this was not in reference to the two ladies I was with).

 

              This was my introduction to photo shoots at Dragon*Con. When I did this shoot (and got to see 2 Zatannas there-squueee) I was told about several other shoots going on over the weekend. After this weekend I realized going to shoots was addictive and got me hooked. She was my enabler. To be fair pretty much everyone at the shoots kept me craving more. By the end I was a complete mess, all high on photographing as many people as I could. They had to pull me away as I pleaded with them “Please, you gotta let me get one more shot. I can quit photographing anytime I want. I just need to take pictures of one more Zatanna and then I will quit. I promise…”

Day 1 (Thursday) came to an end when I finished shooting all the lovely ladies by the poolside. The ride back to my hotel was mostly silent except for when I stood up on the bus and said “Driver, turn the bus around. I need to go back.” I grabbed his arm and made doe eyes. I blinked them rapidly in the hopes he would cave and do what I wanted.

Without missing a beat (as though he had heard it all before) he said “Nope.”

I sat back down.

To be continued with Day 2 or how I learned not to buy bottle water inside the hotels.



 

                                                        Thanks to Kim Bookless for her assistance.