I’m sitting here on a in aisle 31, seat F of a jet plane pointed at Chicago, sitting next to Shawn, who is wearing the cutest boots in all the world. And I don’t even want to let her go because she’s the last link to Journalcon that I have left. And she has convinced herself that I will be getting on her plane to New York too. We cling to our little denials to keep from being bummed that Journalcon Superstar is over. It’s working out for us right now. Enough to try to write this entry.
So Journalcon 03.
Esteban dropped me off at the airport early early early in the morning. It was dark and cold and nothing was making any sense. I didn’t even put on makeup because the irises of my eyes refused to dilate and everything was too bright. I’d like to think that if I had been more awake, I would have noticed that the lovely Trance Jen was on the plane with me. But I am stupid when I am sleepy. I landed in Austin and there was country music playing. My first minutes in Texas and the soundtrack is country music and there is a random smell of armpit.
I was going to try to do a coherent narrative, but will rely upon the crutch of a bulleted entry once more. Wait, superlatives, like in my junior high year book!
Most Alcoholic Beer: During the mixer on Friday night, BienSoul, Leebo Zeebo, Sundry and I had a mini – 12% Beer get-together in front of the web cam. We were bumming that Ladee wasn’t in attendance as well, because we would have 60% Beer rather than 48%. Then Sundry told me to flash the cam my cleave. And I was like “Um… ok.” Because, hi, I’m easy. And now I know that someone somewhere has a screen capture of my cleave.
Best Celebrity Sighting: Because I love Elizabeth very much, even though I only met her on Friday, I talked her into approaching Curtis Armstrong. So now I can say that I shook the hand of Booger from Revenge of the Nerds. Yeah, baby… be impressed.
Best Celebrity Non-Sighting: Apparently I was brushed past R. Lee Emory and never realized it.
Best Nickname: ThatGrrrl is now Cake.
Best Secretive Ass Pinch: I think Amy got a fingerful of the Weetabodkin. Either that, or maybe it was Booger. (The guy who lives on royalty checks from Comedy Central, not the diarist Booger).
Best Bar: Sundry, Mare-Ingenii, Chauffi and I ended up at a bar on 6th Street called Spills or maybe Drinks. Or maybe it was like Brigadoon and is a different bar every night. When we walked in, we were the only girls in the place who weren’t employed by the bar. Also, they were serving these mini cups of Bacardi and Coke for Two Dollars. Which turned “Where’s my two dollars!?!” into the best joke ever. Soon, we were giggling and laughing like we were twelve years old at the display of boobies and ass under glass. Sundry and I decided that it was the antithesis of my Bad Bar. It was the Good Bar. But Austin is a Bad Town. Bad Town! Also, I think we witnessed a living breathing Gap ad changing into a Bacardi t-shirt. In fact, watching this man with his washboard abs and v-shaped shoulders… well, I think it made me a little pregnant. And then later, Morrissey was drunk dialing people on 6th Street, perhaps telling them that meat is murder.
Best Swag: There was so much, so much, so much. The 100 Weetamixes were gone in the blink of an eye. TranceJen (who was absolutely beautiful and not a Pomeranian) not only made these exceptional necklaces (mine is this incredible blue color that will perfectly match and perhaps counteract the bad jobu of my powder blue unlucky shirt) but also gave me a right sexy hematite choker necklace that will be worn at my next Bad Bar outing and will leave men quivering in its wake. Angeline brought me a custom-made corkboard with little beautiful red thumbtacks that match my retro kitchen. Chauffi gave me a battery operated Lucky Cat (which sounds a bit porno, does it not). And most impressive was the bottle of fifty Tylenol 3 from Mare. Codeine… when you care enough to send the very best.
Best stalking: I think I told Anna Beth that I have a girl crush on her and also wanted to kidnap her and put her into a snow globe. I’m expecting a restraining order any day now. But next time I blow out the candles on my birthday cake, my wish will be that I am adopted by the Chaos. Because all Chaos are incredibly beautiful.
Best Imitation of a Big Red Moon: Sundry’s pictures where I am drunk and very very red. Rosacea, you rock, yes you do.
Best Trucker Hat: Take one Chauffi, top with trucker hat complete with tag on top, combine with random creepy crawly sound effects (Doo da DOO Doo da DOO!) mix with two random Austinites, add the impulse to do a somersault, laugh until you fall down and cannot breathe.
Most Worthy Adversary: There is a weird private joke running on my diary about how Ladee Leroy is my arch nemesis. And poor Ladee Leroy doesn’t even know why (it’s a title of honor, actually, the best thing I could think of) but to her credit, has just gone along with it. Anyway, I was walking through the hotel lobby and then suddenly Ladee Leroy and I spotted each other from across the lobby. Without saying anything, we just both went into these mock martial arts, complete with sound effects (“Hooooahhhhhh”) and a chorus of “Fight! Fight!” from a group of onlookers. Then we were like “Hi, nice to meet you.” So we didn’t blow it out like our trash talk had suggested. Not only was I about to leave to go to the emergency room and have my knee x-rayed, but also, Ladee Leroy is beautiful in a way that leaves you stunned and out of breath. And I can’t mess that up. The world needs beauty like that. You’ve won this round, Ladee Leroy. Oh yes. But next time! And there will BE a next time! Mwaahahahahaha… cough cough…HA!
Best Internet Connection: Little City Coffee shop on Congress was the only place I ever managed to connect. Supposedly there was a wireless connection somewhere in the hotel, but it was mythical and amorphous and I couldn’t find a virgin to sacrifice.
Best Mopie-ism: Eating ain’t Cheating!
Best Hill: There is a very steepass hill between the Omni and Sixth Street. This, I’m certain, is there as a Darwinist approach to keeping the drunk population to a minimum. Chauffi, I-Girl, and I went out in search of a bratwurst, or possibly pancakes, or maybe even some combination thereof, however, about twenty feet from the hotel, I was talking and walking and then the next thing I remember was having a very intimate moment with the sidewalk. I can honestly say that I know what Austin tastes like. I can only imagine what it might have looked like to an observer, sort of a recreation of that scene when Han Solo gets frozen in carbon and they drop him on the ground. And you know that saying about how when drunk people fall, they are so relaxed that they don’t get hurt? Yeah, that’s a lie. For some reason, I got all macho and kept saying that I was fine, I was fine, I was just going to nonchalantly lie on the sidewalk with my head in I-Girl’s lap and pant, in what I wanted to believe was a very seductive and cool manner. I-Girl limped with me back to the hotel and put me in my elevator and I was confused because I didn’t even try to mess with Texas and here it was, kicking my ass. Casualties: Right ankle, twisted, swollen and bruised; left knee, scraped, swollen and bruised; right knee, scraped, minor bruise; right hand, scraped, sliced index finger; lips, still right sexy; dignity, maintained only by the force of sheer will, because while Austin may have kicked my ass, I decided I would not let it take my name.
Best Scary Moment: If you rode the elevator up to the 20th floor, you could look out into the steel girder ceiling of the atrium. And then poop your pants because it was strangely terrifying in a way that the view from the 19th floor was not. Everyone laughed until we went up there and then it wasn’t so funny. It’s still a mystery, but it was some freaky shit, yo.
Most Offensive Body Odor: When my left knee started swelling so much that it required capitalization and became The Knee, I decided that I would meander over to the emergency room and have them x-ray the thing because honestly, I have had some pretty spectacular falls, given that I live in a state that is covered in ice more than 50% of the year, but I have never seen some of the hella swelling and bruise action from a simple tumble. The concierge recommended Brackenridge Hospital, which was filled to the brim with frightening people in the waiting room, including a woman holding a blood-soaked gauze pad to her arm, however, they took me into the non-urgent care, had me change into a hospital robe (Interesting bit of Trivia: Do you know that a pair of black Tinkerbell panties are completely visible through your average white hospital robe? It’s true!), did an x-ray of my most impressive swelling, asked for three forms of identification, got confused when I was already wearing a hospital bracelet, and then dropped me off with a prescription for drugs purportedly better than codeine (as if there is such a thing!) outside the business office. I was pissed about having to wait, and relieved that my leg wasn’t broken because I suspect that in Texas, they would have shot me. So I sat there and returned the numerous voice mails from people who were nervous about my disappearance, when this lady, wearing shower flip flops and a house dress that clearly had not been washed in a month, sat down five chairs away from me. The smell of unwashed ass permeated the hallway. Then she tried to jump the line and get into the office ahead of me. So I knocked her down and kicked her with my good leg, screaming “What’s the frequency, Florence?”.
Best Eddie Izzard reference: No I didn’t. Except that maybe I did. Or not.
Best Events That I Missed Completely: The Math Plus One dinner, where everyone was crying and laughing and being witty. Getting kicked out of room 705. The Special Event where my arch nemesis rocked everyone off their asses and then sat back and watched as people picked up their own asses and begged to have them rocked again. And also when Chauffi and Mare played Hansel and Gretl and got lost, only instead of a witch, they found a crack den.
Biggest annoying thing: People who only talk to your boobs.
Best Bouncer: At Crocodile Rocks, the big muscular guy at the door carded me. Except that I couldn’t find my id in my backpack and he didn’t have a flashlight, so he wasn’t going to let me in. Then I remembered that I was still wearing a hospital bracelet and right there was my birthdate. I showed it to him and he looked at me and said “71??? Really???” I almost made out with him right there on the steps.
Best Abs: I couldn’t really get out of my chair at karaoke very often, but instead, people brought things to me. Chauffi was my drink bitch. Mare MacGyver’d an ice bag out of a napkin bag. Timbrat kept me in good spirits, informing me of his recent URL registration. And Sundry brought over hot men named Vin who let me strum his six-pack and fondle his biceps and was hot in a way that made me want to cry. And have I mentioned how fucking cool Sundry is? And just as gorgeous as her pictures. (And yes, it’s official; I’ve just run out of synonyms for “gorgeous” and will be forced to reuse words.)
Best Karaoke Song Ever: That would be Monty and “One Night In Bangkok”. Screw Murray Head, man, I want Montykins to release a K-Tel album which is then sold by infomercial and then the operators better be standing fucking by.
Best Breakfast: Shawn, Amanda, Lisa Marie, Beth, Mopie, Shawn’s friend (whose name I’ve just spaced out) and I went to breakfast at the Hickory Grill on Congress and then celebrated BaconCon. Bacon is good, bacon is grand, bacon is a party in your greasy little hand. Go Bacon, it’s your birthday.
Best Crushes: I now officially am crushing on the following: M.Giant (who proves that Minnesotans are right sexy), Rob (who doesn’t love a bad boy of lawn care?), Shawn, Chairman Chao, Anna Beth (well, duh), Mopie (the first Online Diarist I’ve ever slept with!), Sundry, Trance Jen, Chiara (who made me laugh and laugh), Cruel Irony, Biensoul (who is my sister in abusing our Lane Bryant cards), Elizabeth, Shannon, Austin (the waiter, not the city), Monty, Gwen (Seriously, it’s not fair that these people are so funny and also so beautiful!).
Best Anonymous Gossip: someone hooked up with someone else, someone might have hooked up but no one’s saying anything, someone slid the top half of a pizza under someone else’s door, someone got overly friendly with my granny arm flab, someone kept buying me drinks, someone can’t stand someone else, someone hasn’t shaved her legs in a ridiculous amount of time and even so, you totally cannot tell and it makes me a little jealous, someone is incredibly beautiful, someone else is too, someone missed a little pirate girl more than words, someone was effusive, someone else never was in their life, and there were times someone wished she had a blow dart gun.
So, basically, it was Journal Camp. I think it should be a week long event, at least, because there were people I never did get to say hi to and now am very bummed. A Reunion of people you’ve never met before but by the end of the weekend, everyone’s in love with everyone and vowing to have each other’s babies and name them Splash Mo Berry, and people are confessing and happy and have only slept 8 hours total all weekend. And then it’s over and you’re fitting six people in a pick up truck (surprisingly well, I might add) and you’re sharing a smile with someone because you know that they are thinking the same thing as you, and you can’t believe that you’re about to get on planes and split the difference of the country becoming a math word puzzle, if one journaler’s plane goes west at 25000 feet and another journaler’s plane goes east at 27000 feet, how long will it be before they can’t bear it any longer and pine away madly for next year’s JournalCon.
There is a grief counselor available in the Comments section
