Apparently, almost every writer I respect is going to attend San Diego Comic-Con this year. Warren Ellis (who never does cons), Cory Doctorow, and Neil Gaiman are already announced as special guests, and judging by this interview, Joss Whedon will be there and will doubtlessly have an hour in one of the big rooms. I skipped last year’s con due to life-in-ruins issues, but I think I picked a good year to go again.
I am ready to kill myself and eat my dog, if medicine prices here ([site redacted]) are bad.
Look, the site and call me 1-800 if its wrong..
My dog and I are still alive :)
“I am ready to kill myself and eat my dog.” That is so many levels of brilliance that I think I might add it to my regular vocabulary, to use when I’m down or after a bad day.
“Hey, Mike. Tough day at work?”
“Oh, man, I’m ready to kill myself and eat my dog.”
“Here, have a beer instead.”
“Okay.”
This is a fairly accurate representation of my June so far. Meaning it’s been full of high (perhaps overwrought) drama, not small furry rodents.
The latest crisis has more or less passed. And no, I won’t share what happened.
Meanwhile, Kristie’s flight lands in a couple of hours. She graduated on Monday and defended her dissertation yesterday, so school is over for her at long last. She’s moving to Tucson next month, PhD in hand.
Tomorrow we’re shopping for apartments, then going to a charity screening of Serenity followed by the latest Buffy Sing-Along. With luck, the only drama around here for a while will involve spaceships and vampires.*
*Note: this is not an invitation for a surprise attack by space vampires.
It’s been crisis time around Camp Barklage lately, a time that makes me long for the days when my biggest problem was seeing an ex at a party. (In other words, last week.)
Things are looking somewhat better at the moment, thankfully. I may write about it, but probably not. Expect the blog to go quiet (-er) for a while, though, especially since I’ll be out of town this weekend until Tuesday.
“It’s a timey-wimey detector. It goes ding when there’s stuff.” – The Doctor
If Trek was written like that, I might have kept watching.
I’m officially a Steven Moffat fan. Three seasons of new Doctor Who, and in all three, Moffat’s episode was far and away the best — the WWII-based two-parter in season 1, the French clockpunk episode in season 2, and now the multiple-timeline horror story “Blink,” which just guaranteed nightmares for millions of British schoolchildren.
Go see Knocked Up this weekend if you haven’t yet. Judd Apatow rocks the world, and Paul Rudd got an uncanny number of the best lines.
I’m thinking of buying the DVD for Kristie for Christmas, just so when anyone asks what I gave her, I can deadpan, “Oh, I got her Knocked Up.” Just think of the funny heart attacks I could induce.
Of course, now anyone who reads my blog is going to know the joke already. Oops.
Another week without blog updates. It’s been kind of a crappy week, really. Not to go all LJ on you, but someone I never wanted to see again crashed Ron’s birthday party on Saturday and spoiled my evening, which I had looked forward to for quite a while. Since then, I’ve been deeply embarrassed that I abandoned the party. Next time I’ll stand my ground, and whatever happens, happens. And won’t that be interesting.
Honestly, I’m fine, just having a problem concentrating on anything that isn’t a video game, a drink, or The Daily Show. Therefore, no news to blog or links that caught my attention. (Well, except for this video of Robert Rodriguez making Sin City Breakfast Tacos. Mmm, tacos.)
Meanwhile, my girl is back in California, stressing over her PhD dissertation and graduation in two weeks, her job prospects, and her eventual move. On top of all that, she’s still teaching her two classes on the side. She’ll get through it, but right now she’s having a hard time and I can’t do much to help.
Fun times all around at the moment.
(Just remember that I love you, Kristie, and you’re almost done. Now get back to work. *cracks whip*)
