I Me Mine, I Me Mine, I Me Mine

Also, by the way, I talk more like Yoda when I'm tired. I've been doing that since at least college.

Blogathon limps along. My comments are getting weirder and giggle-induce-inger. At least to me. I hope they're keeping the people writing their Blogathon entries amused.

My friend slipjig made a list of what he hopes AREN'T names for sexual positions. I added to it.

...that I lasted online until past 4 a.m. my time, 7 a.m. the Blogathon writers I was reading time, and that I've beat my record by just over half an hour, and now it's time to skedaddle towards sleep.

Looking forward to going back to you guys' final posts!

A few hours of sleep (with my eye mask, which I only rarely wear) and I seem to have brain again.

Nice to know Blogathon (at least the tiny part of Blogathon I saw) wrapped up without flames, explosions, or defenestrations.

So: how's everybody?

A moment that I’m surprised happened, from Saturday, July 24th:

A San Diego bar, the exact location of which I won’t say out of deference to the person who suggested I go there after hours, because that person (who I‘m also not naming) didn’t know this would happen. I walked in and around, scanning the scene and looking for any faces I recognized. I didn’t see anyone familiar, but kept looking. I walked past and looked at a woman, a cute blonde. We smiled at each other. I kept going.

And a guy standing near her, smilingly and solicitously, looked at me and stage-whispered, “Hey. See that girl?”

I, suddenly very guarded, said, “I see *a* girl.”

And I walked away with the guy saying, “Hey, come on…”

You can puzzle out what was happening there.

Me being me, I retreated to the far end of the bar space, then wandered around it some more, finding further refuge talking with a guy wearing an xkcd T-shirt, the one that says SCIENCE: It works, bitches.
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In other news, yes, it’s possible for women to be dressed as The Joker (any version) and be sexy. This had never occurred to me. Guess I’m still getting used to seeing people in costume. I was also amused by a guy who, for the sake of a video being shot in the Comic Con Exhibit Hall, was dressed as and acting like Stan Lee. Pretty good, if exaggerated, likeness, not that I was going to be fooled as I’VE SEEN THE REAL STAN LEE.

(Twice, in fact; he signed autographs at Emerald City Comic Con last March. I didn’t stand in line to say hi, but I did see him there.)
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Another good moment: my Saturday afternoon break from the con. My cousin Sean and his girlfriend Fabian picked me up for lunch, at a place they’d seen on Man Vs. Food called the Lucha Libre Taco Shop. Good food, good atmosphere of which popfiend would approve: all of the decoration relates to Mexican lucha libre wrestling. The films of especially famous luchador El Santo play on a monitor: that day it was Santo y El Tesoro de Moctezuma, the film with the climactic fight on top of the Aztec pyramid. It was happily crowded. We indulged in seafood burritos and many kinds of salsa, with the roar of I-5 less than two blocks away serenading us. Then Sean and Fabian returned me to the hotel, where I napped. I’d spent the entire day with wobbly legs from how, freakin’, much I’d walked Friday; I needed the extra rest. And Saturday continued well from there.