(no subject)
Real life story.
And that's what space hamsters are made of.
This looks unfortunate.
(Steve Troop was fashioning a Chewbacca sash for poor Sammy, but it looks like Steve's aiming to stow away in his colon overnight to keep warm.)
So the Con is over! After we shut our booth down and packed it away, the remainder of our BLC group joined up with Scott Kurtz at his Marriot hotel and we had dinner in a really really fancy restaurant. I ate everything put down in front of me.
No, that's not a figure of speech. See, Kurtz and I both splurged and got the lobster. I had not yet gotten seafood this trip yet, and I demand seafood when I visit San Diego each year, and so it was time to blow $40 on some lobster tail. Fifteen minutes later, plates are dropped in front of both Kurtz and I, and god dammit, this lobster tail was put in some sort of fucking weird pastry shit that Maggie always wants me to try.
Well, I paid $40 for it, so down the hatch it goes.
Much later, I'm about to finish the last one, when Kris Straub asks me if I ordered potstickers. I'm all like, "what the frog is a potsticker?" Apparently a potsticker is that thing he and Kurtz ordered for appetizers that I had eaten.
...
Man, Straub! You watched me eat your damn dinner! And said nothing! Oh man. And he's all "Dude, finish it" and I'm all "no, you eat it!" And we fought over who would finish it, and Dave Kellett was about to lean over and scoop it up with his fork to solve the problem when Howard struck like a cobra with his bare fingers and shovelled the whole damn thing in his craw. We laughed until we pissed ourselves.
Comic-Con is great.
And that's what space hamsters are made of.
This looks unfortunate.
(Steve Troop was fashioning a Chewbacca sash for poor Sammy, but it looks like Steve's aiming to stow away in his colon overnight to keep warm.)
So the Con is over! After we shut our booth down and packed it away, the remainder of our BLC group joined up with Scott Kurtz at his Marriot hotel and we had dinner in a really really fancy restaurant. I ate everything put down in front of me.
No, that's not a figure of speech. See, Kurtz and I both splurged and got the lobster. I had not yet gotten seafood this trip yet, and I demand seafood when I visit San Diego each year, and so it was time to blow $40 on some lobster tail. Fifteen minutes later, plates are dropped in front of both Kurtz and I, and god dammit, this lobster tail was put in some sort of fucking weird pastry shit that Maggie always wants me to try.
Well, I paid $40 for it, so down the hatch it goes.
Much later, I'm about to finish the last one, when Kris Straub asks me if I ordered potstickers. I'm all like, "what the frog is a potsticker?" Apparently a potsticker is that thing he and Kurtz ordered for appetizers that I had eaten.
...
Man, Straub! You watched me eat your damn dinner! And said nothing! Oh man. And he's all "Dude, finish it" and I'm all "no, you eat it!" And we fought over who would finish it, and Dave Kellett was about to lean over and scoop it up with his fork to solve the problem when Howard struck like a cobra with his bare fingers and shovelled the whole damn thing in his craw. We laughed until we pissed ourselves.
Comic-Con is great.