The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.
The reports of how secretly evil I am? Are not.
Esteban has gone to Orlando for another technical event thingy. Something about computers and storage and that’s when it all turned into blah blah blah inside my brain. I should pay attention more, because when people ask me where he’s gone, I can only either give them a blank look or tell them he’s gone to pimp college. Which is absolutely ridiculous because no self-righteous pimp would ever be caught dead in baggy Levi’s, white New Balances, and an 3V1L L33T t-shirt.
He’s been a saint putting up with my whining about the upside down thing, though, going out for ice and Reese’s Peanut Butter cups and replacement NetFlix movies. He even set up the Xbox on one side of the bed and propped it up so that I can lie there and pretend to kick the asses of the undead with my agile fingers. (I’m at work today and suddenly getting nostalgic for my sick bed. That’s saying something right there.) He also kept reminding me that it could be worse, that I could feel like death (I didn’t’ just had a minor head rush from being inverted), and that I should be thankful.
‘You could have broken your hoo-ha. Think of it that way. A broken hoo-ha.’
Because instead of female genitalia, I apparently have the soundtrack for a Warner Brother’s cartoon.
And speaking of things that give me vague unease: You know how in the morning, when you do the thing you do which usually involves reading materials and some alone time? Yeah, well, this morning, as I went to send my little package out into the world, I looked down and noticed that one member of the Puupuu tribe looked exactly like a sea horse. Exactly. And then, instead of wondering just what was in that order of Moo Shu vegetables last night, I had a weird moment of clairvoyance and knew that somewhere, somehow, there is a person out there taking pictures of their poo. Probably like some weird compulsion. And, in the age of digital cameras, they are probably cataloging them on the internet. And that if I mentioned this, someone would post the URL on the comments section. And suddenly, with that realization, it was a moment of wisdom about the world that I didn’t have two seconds before. And with that flush and that sea horse (I kid you not! A sea horse!) went another tiny bit of my innocence.
There it is then. Also, I think I’m going to cut way back on the codeine, much to the relief of everyone who just read the above paragraph.
Ok, so what makes more news about Journalcon’ people gushing about Journalcon, people bitching about Journalcon, or people bitching about people writing about Journalcon. I’m certain that the non-attender might feel a bit skeptical about how everyone loved each other and how everyone was beautiful and how everyone is witty and ours heads practically explode from the scintillating conversations.
Well, baby, I’m about to blow the top off the whole Journalcon Cabal right now. I have a secret mp3 recorder (which is oh-so-cute and also blue) and managed to smuggle out an actual Journalcon conversation. All of those raving post-Journalcon entries? It’s the best propaganda ever written! Anna Beth is not really as cute as everyone says!* Pineapple Girl’s diary is actually written by a room full of monkeys with typewriters in Iceland! Rob is actually a highly evolved computer program! Here’s the top secret transcript’ which is here until the Online Diary Cabal sends their crack team of top secret operatives to kidnap me and replace me with a clone. But at least you’ll all know what really happened and I can die a happy woman. With a fully functional hoo-ha.
Scene: Sitting in the Chamber bar, sipping ginger ale in martini glasses
Sundry: Wow, this is cool.
M.Giant: Yeah
Omar: Yeah
Tim: Yeah.
Chiara: Um’ yeah.
Tyger: So Uh’ we should, um, go wave at the Webcam now, huh?
ShannonK: Sounds good!
Columbine:Yeah!
Kymm: Great idea!
Montykins: Um’ ok!
Anna Beth: Everyone act as though someone just said the funniest thing, you know? Har har!
(Everyone waves madly at the webcam, laughing hysterically, holding up martini glasses and pounding them for the camera.)
Pat: Phew!
Mad Red Head: Yeah!!
Lisa-Marie: Yeah!
Anna: That was fun.
AngelineYeah.
Mopie: Yeah! The web cam was a good idea.
Kim: Yeah.
Elizabeth: What’s the name of this panel again?
Mary: LMAO and LOL: How to Be Hella Fun-nay or something.
LisaNH: So’ web cams are good.
Stephanie:Yeah’ web cams! Excellent idea.
Allison: And also’ um’ hmmmm.
(Awkward silence)
Kramer: Did you say something
Invincible Girl: No, I didn’t say anything.
Kramer: I thought you said something.
Invincible Girl: No. Not really.
Kramer: You were about to say something?
Invincible Girl: No, I just had an itch.
Kramer: Oh.
Invincible Girl: Yeah.
Kramer: Hmmm.
(More awkward silence)
Chauffi: Remember that time when Sundry said this was cool? That was hilarious.
Jen: Hilarious?
Chauffi: Well, it was the way she said it. I guess you’d have to be there.
Jen: I thought I was here.
Chauffi: Well, um’ I mean, like right here in this chair where I heard it. The inflection.
Jen: Oh, I see. Yeah, I can see that, I guess. Ha ha!
Beth: Ha ha! Hilarious.
Biensoul: This is so cool.
LadeeLeroy Yeah
Omar: Yeah
Cruel Irony: Yeah.
And now you know the truth. So everyone who thinks that Journalcon might just really suck, doesn’t have to bother with attending next year and can stay home and watch the Real World marathon. Or something.
Man, I hope the clone has a better ass than me. Really, I do. She probably won’t write about the shape of her morning poo either.
*I can’t even pretend to lie about that. She is every bit as cute as everyone says. Perhaps even more cute. And I still sort of want to put her in a snow globe. I now feel the urge to snap my wrist.
