Although, actually, I haven't decided yet where my own allegiance will fall. I'm leaning towards Loki, but I could still be persuaded. Riff asserts that Loki is an unpredictable god and therefore probably does not provide a 401(k), but you just know Odin is the sort of boss that blocks the Internet and says things like "If you've got time to lean, you've got time to clean." Plus I bet Baldur was a prick anyway. Yeah, the Odin people are gonna have to convince me hard, if they want me.
(Riff also mentions that Odin's enemies tend to wind up deep underground in pools of fiery venom, bound by the entrails of their own sons. This is another excellent reason not to have kids.)
Also I'm still not entirely sure what a 401(k) is.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Your little green patch has a toad inside the greenery, or some such nonsense.
My sister talked me into joining Facebook. I don't believe Facebook and I emit our little beingness waves on anywhere near the same frequency, 'cause man, I'm finding it seriously ungrokkable. Every time I log in someone is trying to turn me into a werewolf or send me a plant. I take the plants sometimes, and, well, if someone wants you to be a werewolf very badly, there's not a lot you can do besides give in. I don't know. There are a lot of buttons and I think I may be saving the rainforest. I don't know. I'm not sure. It's all rather overwhelming and I'm going to need some time to sort it out, preferably on a nice quiet island with lots of chickens.
(I need lots of chickens, you see, because I am a werewolf. That is how it works.)
(I need lots of chickens, you see, because I am a werewolf. That is how it works.)
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Uploading these ComicCon pix is honestly a lot more work than you'd think it would be. Seriously.
The view from our balcony. Can you spot Scarlett Johannsen? Can you tell me how she spells her name?
Good luck with that.
Roy's booth was so gorgeous and professional-looking that he had to call someone up and tell them about it. I'm not sure why Brenda (Barbara? Shit, now I feel bad) had to eat a sandwich, though. Probably the gorgeousness and professional-looking-ism made her hungry.
Stephen Notley totally had this pineapple ready. He's so cool. If you need to call him and tell him how cool he is I have his phone number. That's right, bitches, I have Bob the Angry Flower's phone number. You may touch me. Okay, stop. No, touch me a little more... now stop for real.
I wound up befriending the screenplay-software guys right next to us despite the fact that their signs were like TWENTY FEET TALL and blocked the shit out of our booth. If you look on the right where it says "SCREENWRITER," then under that where it says "SCREENWRITER," then just to the right of that where it says "ing?" That is our booth. Fucking twenty-foot-tall signs.
That Neil Patrick Harris movie brought their unicorn. I couldn't get a non-blurry shot 'cause unicorns are magic and mainly 'cause I suck pretty hard at taking pictures but also unicorns are magic.
This guy was covered in promotional materials, which I thought was pretty sexy. Also let the record show that our booth was across the aisle from Studio Foglio and Phil did not once bring any of us a sandwich. Then again, none of us brought him a sandwich, so I guess it's fair.
Still, though. Sandwich.
She was SO CUTE. She even had Hello Kitty band-aids on her feets. We told her how cute she was and she didn't believe us. I think it even made her a little angry. Which was SO CUTE.
David bought a stuffed Master Tonberry, which is probably the most terrifying cuddly toy he could've gotten. If you've never come up against him, Master Tonberry is this little dude you fight in Final Fantasy games who does nothing on his turn except take a single step towards you. And another single step towards you on the next turn. Meanwhile, you're smashing the fuck out of him with a sword the size of the Space Needle, casting freaking, I don't know, Fuck You Up the Ass Very Painfully with Lightning 3, thinking oh, this is gonna be easy, he's not doing anything but step. Step. Huh, that's weird, he's not dead yet, but it's only a matter of step. Step. Ste- OH MY GOD HE'S GOT A KNIFE AND YOUR WHOLE PARTY IS DEAD WHO KNEW?
It's creepy, is what I'm saying. Also I think this picture pretty well exemplifies how crap I am at taking pictures. The cabinets are nice and shiny, though. Bask in that.
Christopher Moore came by the booth and was so cool. I think he was about to say something nice about the game, but Aliah and I read name badges and are completely fucking obnoxious, so he didn't get much of a chance to before we grabbed him by the beard and pop-quizzed him as to whether he was the Christopher Moore. "Oh, no," he said, oh so very deprecatingly, "I'm Christopher Moore the novelist, not Christopher Moore the artist." Then we were upon him, squealing and fangirling and dribbling on his kneecaps.
This guy was covered in promotional materials, which I thought was pretty sexy. Also let the record show that our booth was across the aisle from Studio Foglio and Phil did not once bring any of us a sandwich. Then again, none of us brought him a sandwich, so I guess it's fair.
Still, though. Sandwich.
She was SO CUTE. She even had Hello Kitty band-aids on her feets. We told her how cute she was and she didn't believe us. I think it even made her a little angry. Which was SO CUTE.
David bought a stuffed Master Tonberry, which is probably the most terrifying cuddly toy he could've gotten. If you've never come up against him, Master Tonberry is this little dude you fight in Final Fantasy games who does nothing on his turn except take a single step towards you. And another single step towards you on the next turn. Meanwhile, you're smashing the fuck out of him with a sword the size of the Space Needle, casting freaking, I don't know, Fuck You Up the Ass Very Painfully with Lightning 3, thinking oh, this is gonna be easy, he's not doing anything but step. Step. Huh, that's weird, he's not dead yet, but it's only a matter of step. Step. Ste- OH MY GOD HE'S GOT A KNIFE AND YOUR WHOLE PARTY IS DEAD WHO KNEW?
It's creepy, is what I'm saying. Also I think this picture pretty well exemplifies how crap I am at taking pictures. The cabinets are nice and shiny, though. Bask in that.
Christopher Moore came by the booth and was so cool. I think he was about to say something nice about the game, but Aliah and I read name badges and are completely fucking obnoxious, so he didn't get much of a chance to before we grabbed him by the beard and pop-quizzed him as to whether he was the Christopher Moore. "Oh, no," he said, oh so very deprecatingly, "I'm Christopher Moore the novelist, not Christopher Moore the artist." Then we were upon him, squealing and fangirling and dribbling on his kneecaps.
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