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Beauty of Poisson
Apr. 1st, 2004 11:55 amI forgot to bring some chocolate fish with me today. Swedish fish from the Campus Convenience just wouldn't be the same.
Today I am off to Maine for a weekend of LARP dorkery -- my first geek con evah. I am sure when I leave work today with my luggage (why do I have so many damn costumes and props?) my boss, who is also my advisor, may have something stern to say about spending a weekend away -- never mind that I won't necessarily tell him doing just what -- when I haven't turned in a chapter of Consuela yet. And he would be right to do so. I could give him my 40-some lacunose pages, or at least I could if I had brought them with me, but even were that possible they're not in any condition to be read yet.
Woe.
But from tonight until Sunday, I will be pretending to be three or four different people (not simultaneously). None of them have dissertations to write. Instead, they will all be in some sort of imminent and potentially fatal danger. It will be a relaxing change.
I will not wear fangs at any point during the weekend. I will, however, wear a silver helmet made from headphones, foil, cardboard, and duct tape, with a strobe light and a cheap digital thingy from Radio Shack that bears a recording of my beloved saying, in her best Majel Barrett voice, "Cerebral Stimulator Engaged." It goes well with the goggles and the headlamp. I leave it to you to decide whether that's better than fangs.
It's raining something fearsome out.
So Sunday happens to be J.'s and my seventh anniversary. It makes me look bad, I suppose, to be the sort who'd go off to game on such on occasion, except (1) I'll be home Sunday, afternoonish, and (2) she will be doing exam prep all day and will probably ignore me when I get home. We'll be celebrating next Friday.
Today I am off to Maine for a weekend of LARP dorkery -- my first geek con evah. I am sure when I leave work today with my luggage (why do I have so many damn costumes and props?) my boss, who is also my advisor, may have something stern to say about spending a weekend away -- never mind that I won't necessarily tell him doing just what -- when I haven't turned in a chapter of Consuela yet. And he would be right to do so. I could give him my 40-some lacunose pages, or at least I could if I had brought them with me, but even were that possible they're not in any condition to be read yet.
Woe.
But from tonight until Sunday, I will be pretending to be three or four different people (not simultaneously). None of them have dissertations to write. Instead, they will all be in some sort of imminent and potentially fatal danger. It will be a relaxing change.
I will not wear fangs at any point during the weekend. I will, however, wear a silver helmet made from headphones, foil, cardboard, and duct tape, with a strobe light and a cheap digital thingy from Radio Shack that bears a recording of my beloved saying, in her best Majel Barrett voice, "Cerebral Stimulator Engaged." It goes well with the goggles and the headlamp. I leave it to you to decide whether that's better than fangs.
It's raining something fearsome out.
So Sunday happens to be J.'s and my seventh anniversary. It makes me look bad, I suppose, to be the sort who'd go off to game on such on occasion, except (1) I'll be home Sunday, afternoonish, and (2) she will be doing exam prep all day and will probably ignore me when I get home. We'll be celebrating next Friday.
