Tag Archives: romantic times convention

Belated Weekend Review

It’s Thursday and I’m blogging about last weekend. I could say it took me this long to recover, but that’d be a partial lie. Maybe like 70% true, 30% false. Or maybe even 60/40. Either way, this weekend really tired me out. It was fun, but it wore me down.

See, I’ve decided to do this 30-day squat challenge which I started on Thursday last week. (If you’re interested, I’m up to 80 now.) That normally wouldn’t be a problem. Working out, or pseudo-working out is better than nothing. But I forgot about New Orleans. I enjoy spending time in the Quarter, especially when I can show a friend around.

Unfortunately for me and A.M. Griffin, it wasn’t just hot this weekend, it was hot as balls. Pardon my crudeness, but it was a totaly sweaty nightmare. If you’ve never been to the French Quarter, it stinks. Especially when the heat and humidity is high. Bourbon Street doesn’t close as far as I know, so people party all day and night. When people party all day and night, they tend to lose control of some bodily functions and inhibitions and do whatever wherever. If you catch my drift. Don’t get me wrong, the Quarter is still a great place to visit. Usually after a good hard rain though, or if the street cleaners have been out.

That wasn’t the case this weekend.

But that isn’t even the reason I’m so tired. You see, I got to NOLA a little late. I blame it on that wrong turn I took, but by the time I got there it was 10 in the morning and I had to save Griffin from eating her entire stash of chocolate for breakfast. We hit the streets in the search of food…and returned to the hotel at 4 that afternoon. We only sat down twice in that entire time which means we walked a good 4 hours. No biggie, right? Wrong! We were dragging ass by the time we got back to the hotel. DRAGGING. I thought Griffin was going to melt in the heat. It was a nightmare. We had fun window shopping and people watching and staring at the guy in the one-piece swimsuit/jumper thing and heels and shopping some more.

We spent a lot of time in…*frown* I have a card for the store, but I can’t remember what it’s called. It’s an adult toy store. *cough* We actually probably spent more time looking for the store than we did in it. From one end of Bourbon to the other, we traipsed back and forth, ogling the pretty men without their shirts who were there for Southern Decadence Fest, eyeballing Prince and Michael Jackson impersonators and pausing in front of as many businesses with cool air as we could. Because that’s the trick of surviving a walk in the Quarter: Soaking up as much cool air as you can when doors open. Anyway, we finally found the store and bought a whole bunch of stuff to give away. I’m not going to say why we’re giving stuff away yet, but I’ll explain that later.

Anyway, the result of all this walking and shopping and goofing off? We were in bed by 11. Yes, we’re in New Orleans, the Big Easy and we were in bed for 11 p.m. Apparently I snored. I don’t recall. Whatever. It was a long, wearing weekend and we were only together 24 hours! Of course now we’re all excited about RomantiCon in October and RT in May. They’re going to be epic.

If you’re heading to New Orleans for RT next year, my recommendation is to get a lot of walking experience under your belt first, buy a pair of uber comfortable shoes and a bag  you can carry about a case of water in. You know, just in case the heat is atrocious the way it was this weekend.

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Hair of the Dog

I feel like such a bad blogger because I forgot to play a song last week for What’s Playing Wednesday. It doesn’t matter that I was at a convention. I need to plan ahead for these things!

Today is day 2 of life back in the “real” world. You know, the one where people don’t know me as Danica, where they wouldn’t understand if I suddenly lost track of conversations because the muse hits me upside the head with an idea and they have no idea what I mean when I say “I’ll electrocute your nipples”. Yeah, the real world. It sucks.

I really just wanted to go back to bed this morning. It doesn’t seem right to be jealous of pets, but I was. Both of those punks woke me up, made me feed them, let them do their thing and then they went back to sleep. What did I have to do? Get up and get ready for work because someone has to bring home the Kibbles n’ Bits. And that would be me. Of course, harkening back to the Ellora’s Cave party on Wednesday night, I have said on more than one occasion that “I will sell ass on the side of the road if I have to. Not my ass of course, but I have no problem selling yours. Or the cat’s or dog’s asses.” (I do, I just talk a good game.)

Anyway, today seemed like a perfect day to play Nazareth’s Hair of the Dog. I could use a little hair of the dog to get through the day, but that would require going back to Kansas City and I don’t think I want to do the security thing again. By the way, Jose from Da Hood (Cave Chaos radio) apparently has a thing about his nipples. Hence the “I’ll electrocute your nipples” thing.

Okay, I’m finished with my pointless ramblings. I need more coffee. Enjoy this while I start up a coffee drip straight to my veins.

Oh! And because I’m feeling cranky, let me tell you about Robert Friggin’ Quill. What? You’ve never heard of him? Well he’s an artist. Kind of like the Dread Pirate Roberts, except he doesn’t have a ship. I think. I didn’t see a ship and he didn’t mention it. No, instead he charmed me into spending money on a drawing that’s going to be awesome when it’s complete. And then he got Lea Barrymire. And Cassandra Carr (I think). And Regina Cole. And I have no idea who else, but if you get a chance, you should really check out his work because he’s quite talented. And charming. Friggin’ Robert Quill. And because of his charming, talented bull-shitting self, I can’t get the character I commissioned him to do a sketch of out of my head. She’s stuck right there *points to head* and she won’t stop telling me to write and to do her justice because she’s totally going to kick my ass if I don’t write her in the style he’s going to sketch her. Gee, thanks Friggin’ Robert Quill. You’re the best.

And I mean that. He is awesome. Except when he stirs my muse to become Diva Bitch. *sigh*

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The Pre-RT Panic

I’m sure I’m not the only person going through their checklists of what they need to pack. I’m also sure I’m not the only person attending RT who couldn’t sleep because they were trying to make sure they didn’t forget anything. Or hop out of bed at midnight to make sure they packed a necklace they probably won’t wear the entire convention. Right?

I barely slept last night and I don’t think it was because of Vikings’ season finale. It was a nail-biter for sure, but I’m honest enough to know I’m anal when it comes to packing. I also doubt my sleepless night was due to me taking a four-hour nap yesterday morning. I didn’t mean to do it. I woke up early, had a cup of coffee and then it started raining. Oh, it was so lovely to huddle in my bed with the drapes drawn, the rain pattering the roof, my dog snoring at my feet and…voila, I slept four hours.

When I woke up, I was so not motivated to do anything. I didn’t want to pack. I didn’t want to read. I didn’t want to write. I just wanted to veg out, but later in the afternoon I knew I had to make an attempt to get last-minute items. Like a few extra shirts or something. Just in case I decide to change clothes twelve times in one day. What? You don’t do that? Anyway, I’m in the dressing room at the store trying on a new top when I look at my legs in the mirror.

Holy crap! Y’all, I swear it looked like I had elephantiasis of the thighs. Like I was smuggling two piglets in  my pants legs. I forgot that I’d been using a stepper to work out. At least I hope that’s the reason it suddenly looked like my quads were going to burst out of my jeans, but holy hell…I’m never wearing those jeans again. And if you see me at RT, don’t stare at my thighs. *shudder*

Anyway, the panic is starting to set in. I just know I’m going to forget something I really wanted to take with me. All because I had to have a stupid necklace I probably won’t remember to wear. Meh. But it’s okay. I’m going to have fun anyway.

If you’re going to be at the convention and you want to stop to chat, just look for the woman with fire-red hair with blonde and pink streaks. That’ll probably be me.

I’ll also try to keep y’all up on what’s going on. Be sure to follow me on Twitter: @danicaavet and Facebook so you can see pictures of the convention first hand! Sort of. LOL

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