These guys became my personal heroes for showing their love of Brad Bird‘s RATATOUILLE.
All the days are done now. My Dragon Con 2007 set is complete. I didn’t take half as many pictures last year. I’ll have to rectify that next year. At least I think there will be a next year.
*Crossing my fingers as I type*
It’s not a sexy lady. It’s not even a sexy leggy lady. Hell, it ain’t even a good photo. But the contents of said photo warmed my heart for days.
Joss Whedon fans know what I’m talking about.
Day 3 of my Geek Homecoming ordeal is ready for viewing.
If I learned anything from Con last weekend, it’s that that Niles writer guy, the one that writes all that horror stuff, is a pretty decent guy. So decent, in fact, that I’m gonna give his most famous book 30 DAYS OF NIGHT another go. Maybe this time I will get hooked by it like everyone else.
My Dragon Con set.
When George Lucas was young and (at that time)infallibly brilliant, the world held its breath and believed in the whiny, water farmboy who could.
Now we have Stormtrooper Elvis.
I honestly don’t know how to feel about that.
Some weeks, the lights on your neon signs burn brightly and true. Other weeks, not so much.
The only way to stop the bloodthirsty Weekend Monster from finding you and ending you in a grisly fashion is to party. Go downtown and put copious amounts of booze in your system. Then spend the rest of the night tossing tiny death arrows at the walls of your favorite pub. Tip your bartenders and wait staff. The Weekend Monster won’t abide anythingless than 20%.
Find a gaggle of tall women then proceed to hug each one with great bear arms and meaning. They will appreciate your zeal. You will appreciate their bosoms for pillows.
If all else fails: dance. The Weekend Monster can’t help but to get on the dance floor with you. It is a complete attention whore.
If you survive the weekend it is only because you followed these simple rules. No, no. I don’t want to hear it. I’m a genius.
Now go.
“It’s the Happy Fun Toy!”
Victoria was very excited by it. She pressed a button and the HFT sang its special song. It danced a jittery dance, too. She was so captivated by th HFT that all her troubles seemed to melt away.
She said she borrowed(see stole) it from a nephew of hers. She was ashamed yet seemed to be dealing with her larceny quite well. It was another night at Philby’s . The Guinness flowed like rain and Mike shared the stage with the HFT. Just another Tuesday night in Huntsvillle.
We all need Happy Fun Toys in our lives, I think. It’s time for me to run off for a couple days. May that jolly fat man sneak into your house and place many fine things under your indoor shrubbery.
The Pretenda informed me of what i clearly had no idea that I did.
I hit 500 photos on Flickr the other day.
Now that’s a lot of souls.
Newsmine
