marsathon confessions (part one)
I've thought about posting a detailed Marsathon entry, from the "aisle" (literally!) seating that gave us a great view of the theatre exit (outside of which the cast & RT were taking pictures to the band (ew) to the clips, episode, Q&A, etc.
Instead, I will do a post about how I was an idiot. Mostly.
Here is a confession: buffyx, zimshan and I were NOT the last to arrive. We were comfortably in the middle of the line, and managed to grab a loveseat in the LAST row of the theatre. So how did we end up sitting on kegs?
Well, as I held the couch for safekeeping, the girls left to buy souvenirs and on the way back in, decided to wait for a rumored opening of seats in the VIP area with a large crowd of seatless people. As seats slowly opened up, we kept waiting...and waiting...and waiting....for three seats together.
Finally, I traded our couch to a nice couple, whose two asses would fit there MUCH better than our three. And we were left standing, the last ones to be seated.
On empty kegs with towel padding.
Now, this was an acceptable set of circumstances, because (A) I am totally claustrophobic and my seat was closest to the exit (my FAVORITE thing), and (B) we found out (as mentioned in the previous post) that we would get our food comped and get moved to the front of the autograph line.
As I mulled this lucky set of events (was it visiting the Scientology center that gave us such luck? Am I supposed to start worshipping L. Ron now? Was my dream the night before about marrying Tom Cruise TRUE?) I decided that, hell, since we were moved to the front of the line, I had might as well get something for the guests of honor to sign. Other than my breasts. The band had already started playing when I left for the lobby.
Who do I see in the lobby? (Not Crispin Glover this time), but those guests themselves, freshly arrived.
I buy my poster, turn around, and Jason Dohring is like two feet (okay, maybe it was five. I'll give myself liberties) in front of me. Unfortunately, he's not facing in my direction, so all I get is a lovely hint of profile. In retrospect, I wish I had given him a friendly "hi", or maybe warned him "Hide now, because when they realize you're here, you will be mobbed."
But Lumino has gotten me over the starstruckness, and so all I thought was, "huh. I *do* find him attractive in person" and "Must. Tell. H. & K."
The previously noted "you MUST go to the bathroom now" ensued.
So, they do so (I'll let them give you their rundown, as I was not there) and run back into the theatre. We sit there giggling, and turning to the doorway (which was still probably 30 feet or so down the aisle) and during this time, Jason Dohring keeps peeking into the theatre, probably TOTALLY watching us hyperventilate, but most definitely watching us, since he had to look past us to see into the packed house.
At one point, he walks partway into the theatre, (not far enough for most people to see him), stands on his tiptoes, and peeks over the dividing wall. So charming.
(Later, we find out where his wife was sitting, and conjecture that he peeked in to see her. Even more charming.)
Not long after, the fangirls are notified that THEY, and more importantly HE, is in the house. We watch a steady stream of them leave the theatre and essentially CORNER Jason just outside the door. H. K. and I are mortified.
(Okay, *I* am.)
Then, the show happens, during which I get mad at the stupid, overly involved questions that people are asking, especially the fact that they are mostly directed towards Rob, and dude, the cast didn't fly in JUST to be ogled for the eye candy. I raise my hand, stand on the keg proudly, and utter:
(paraphrased)
"In light of the tone of the questions before me, I have to ask something really serious. And this is directed at all of you: Would you rather EAT a small piece of poo, or be covered in it?"
(audience laughter.)
Hell, at least it broke up the monotony.
The show ended, we zoomed to the front of the line, and...
Why the fuck am I awake? And TYPING? Um. Sleep again now.
To be continued, theoretically.
Instead, I will do a post about how I was an idiot. Mostly.
Here is a confession: buffyx, zimshan and I were NOT the last to arrive. We were comfortably in the middle of the line, and managed to grab a loveseat in the LAST row of the theatre. So how did we end up sitting on kegs?
Well, as I held the couch for safekeeping, the girls left to buy souvenirs and on the way back in, decided to wait for a rumored opening of seats in the VIP area with a large crowd of seatless people. As seats slowly opened up, we kept waiting...and waiting...and waiting....for three seats together.
Finally, I traded our couch to a nice couple, whose two asses would fit there MUCH better than our three. And we were left standing, the last ones to be seated.
On empty kegs with towel padding.
Now, this was an acceptable set of circumstances, because (A) I am totally claustrophobic and my seat was closest to the exit (my FAVORITE thing), and (B) we found out (as mentioned in the previous post) that we would get our food comped and get moved to the front of the autograph line.
As I mulled this lucky set of events (was it visiting the Scientology center that gave us such luck? Am I supposed to start worshipping L. Ron now? Was my dream the night before about marrying Tom Cruise TRUE?) I decided that, hell, since we were moved to the front of the line, I had might as well get something for the guests of honor to sign. Other than my breasts. The band had already started playing when I left for the lobby.
Who do I see in the lobby? (Not Crispin Glover this time), but those guests themselves, freshly arrived.
I buy my poster, turn around, and Jason Dohring is like two feet (okay, maybe it was five. I'll give myself liberties) in front of me. Unfortunately, he's not facing in my direction, so all I get is a lovely hint of profile. In retrospect, I wish I had given him a friendly "hi", or maybe warned him "Hide now, because when they realize you're here, you will be mobbed."
But Lumino has gotten me over the starstruckness, and so all I thought was, "huh. I *do* find him attractive in person" and "Must. Tell. H. & K."
The previously noted "you MUST go to the bathroom now" ensued.
So, they do so (I'll let them give you their rundown, as I was not there) and run back into the theatre. We sit there giggling, and turning to the doorway (which was still probably 30 feet or so down the aisle) and during this time, Jason Dohring keeps peeking into the theatre, probably TOTALLY watching us hyperventilate, but most definitely watching us, since he had to look past us to see into the packed house.
At one point, he walks partway into the theatre, (not far enough for most people to see him), stands on his tiptoes, and peeks over the dividing wall. So charming.
(Later, we find out where his wife was sitting, and conjecture that he peeked in to see her. Even more charming.)
Not long after, the fangirls are notified that THEY, and more importantly HE, is in the house. We watch a steady stream of them leave the theatre and essentially CORNER Jason just outside the door. H. K. and I are mortified.
(Okay, *I* am.)
Then, the show happens, during which I get mad at the stupid, overly involved questions that people are asking, especially the fact that they are mostly directed towards Rob, and dude, the cast didn't fly in JUST to be ogled for the eye candy. I raise my hand, stand on the keg proudly, and utter:
(paraphrased)
"In light of the tone of the questions before me, I have to ask something really serious. And this is directed at all of you: Would you rather EAT a small piece of poo, or be covered in it?"
(audience laughter.)
Hell, at least it broke up the monotony.
The show ended, we zoomed to the front of the line, and...
Why the fuck am I awake? And TYPING? Um. Sleep again now.
To be continued, theoretically.