So it turns out Pumpcon is this weekend. Not next. It's always been this way, and I've always had it in my head otherwise.

Still do, in fact.

If I just had ATC to beat on I'd pick up and go. But I don't - I have an enormous pile of commission work that can't wait and can't be done on my dangerously old powerbook.

So. No Philly for me. :(

Silver lining : the liver gets to play a home game this weekend, and the funds I would have used for Activities Dangerously Close To New Jersey can now go to other things, like pants. Pants and ram.

Crap!

12:19 <@xeno> [io9 continues to beat their cocks raw over JJ Abrams, this time under the heading "Is JJ Abrams the New Joss Whedon?"]
12:20 <@xeno> if i had been the first to comment, i would have just wrote Fuck you.
12:23 <@ejp> is abrams the new whedon? well, no. see whedon made good tv/movies, abrams doesn't.
12:23 <@ejp> that's the major difference.
12:24 <@ejp> also, whedon looks like a huggable geek, abrams looks like a metrosexual cocktard.
12:24 <@solios> whedon writes great characters across a broad spectrum. Abrams writes whiners.
12:24 <@ejp> "Write what you know"
12:25 <@solios> I rest my case.

Bottom line : Whedon brings compelling characters and The Funny. Abrams has yet to achieve either.

12:23 <@esch> MOTHER FUCK.
12:24 <@mdxi> not a heinlein fan, thanks

Went to goth night. Listened to a beautiful curvy girl gripe about how she didn't have an "industrial" figure. Her backstory was almost identical to Jolie's. Jolie has almost the same figure and does industrial just fine, thank you. Maybe it's the hair. Maybe it's the fact that she's Frank Frazetta's wet dream. Assuming she had an enormous tiger and enormouser broadsword, accessorized. Jolie is Ab-Fab in camo with combat boots and a leopard print martini glass.

I miss her.

Raspberried a kid who seems convinced that a freshly minted friday night all ages in the ashes of Metropol can take on ten years of mostly positive inertia. Wake me up when your voice drops, spiky.

Staring thirty in the face, this morning I stayed my vitriol at a Jehovah's Witness trailing tiny chilren-shaped shields - kids don't deserve Adult Rage, period - and promptly THBBBBBBTed it all over the aforementioned Hot Topic overdose less than twelve hours later.

Boundaries. Mores. I'm older than you, bigger than you, drunker than you, and Nemesis was a Shriekback song long before some ego-laden "dj" appropriated it for a club night. It was a Gameboy port of Gradius when you were in diapers. Your blank stare says everything I need to know about your night, you uneducated twat.

Bumped into Kevin on the bus ride back to south side. He doesn't look like his DCR appearance - he looks like a baby-faced Ben Sisko, and he's seriously thinking about going back to school to get an "adult job," whatever that is. Kevin's an ex-marine audiophile turned comics artist whose been paying the bills doing things well below his talent level for a long time now. His definition of "adult job" has been informed accordingly.

Mike repatriated, but I haven't talked to him in awhile. Context would be reading his blog today and bumping into Kevin tonight.

For one hot second, the three of us were roommates. Farscape, Season Two. Whenever that was.

I've figured out more of ATC in the last six weeks than I have in the last six years. It remains unlike anything, aggressively.

I have no time to work on it, as I'm doing commission work for money. Money that's being shat straight into the gaping maw of bills unpaid.

Unpaid, escalating.

Maybe I'll throw up before passing out.

Hopefully I won't.

This snip of Warren Ellis's Transmetropolitan has been floating around the intertub for awhile now. A few centuries in internet years. This particular instance googled from here.

16:54 <@solios> it took me THREE HOURS* to go waterfront -> lowes -> home.
16:54 <@solios> :|
16:54 <@ejp> you went to *lowes*.
16:54 <@ejp> that's terrifies me
16:55 <@solios> I started at target.
16:55 <@solios> < me> fans?
16:55 <@solios> < thing> we done sold those.
16:55 <@solios> < me> uh.
16:55 <@solios> < thing2> last week!
16:55 <@solios> < me> ...
16:55 <@solios> so, Lowes.
16:55 <@ejp> fans?
16:55 <+fagbot> fans are even bigger idiots in both cases.
16:55 <@ejp> it's october
16:56 <@solios> fans should not be seasonal.
16:56 <@ejp> gotta put the heaters somewhere.
16:56 <@solios> target had those wee fan+heater things.
16:56 <@solios> which I need about as much as a fourth anus.
17:10 <@xeno> solios: they don't make fans in october
17:11 <@xeno> and why do you need a fan in october?
17:18 <@solios> my fan died.
17:18 <@solios> no white noise, no sleep.
17:18 <@solios> ever.
17:19 <@solios> EVER.
17:19 <@solios> ask bda.**
17:19 <@xeno> they make white noise machines
17:19 <@xeno> and those are available all year long
17:19 <@solios> need a breeze too
17:19 <@solios> or I sweat like an ice cold beer. :P
17:19 <@xeno> open a window :P
17:20 <@solios> fagbot: doot xeno
17:20 <+fagbot> well, that's as low as I've been able to get
17:20 <@solios> xeno: the fans gives me both.
17:37 <@xeno> not anymore.
17:37 <@xeno> now it ain't doin' shit.
17:37 <@xeno> and in the meantime, you're apt to find a white noise machine easier than a fan
17:38 <@xeno> and opening the window is Free
17:38 <@xeno> and come to think of it, there's all kinds of noise out there
17:38 <@solios> I got a fan.
17:38 <@solios> two, actually.
17:38 <@solios> just in case one Prefers Not To.
17:39 <@solios> got it at Lowes.
17:39 <@solios> :|
17:39 <@xeno> then what...
17:39 <@xeno> fagbot: doot solios
17:39 <+fagbot> PARTY!!! LET'S GO LADIES!!! LET'S SEE THOSE TITTIES!!!
17:39 <@solios> I tried target first.
17:39 <@solios> :P
17:39 <@xeno> yeah, you could have said No i got a fan
17:39 <@xeno> instead of letting me ramble on.
17:39 <@xeno> assface.
17:39 <@xeno> you owe me 15 calories.
17:44 <@solios> <3

* My coworker Matt drove me from work (5pm) to the Waterfront (~5:20?). Then a walk from Jahniggle to Target.... Target had sold all of their fans... Call Steve on the walk out; he mentions Lowes as a likely pickup point. Walk from Target (at one end of a ped-hostile "high class" stripmall) to Lowes (at the other end - you could park my sister's boat and one of her sister ships end-to-end with room to spare), parse Lowes, wait forever in line at Lowes, figure FUCK THAT and use the self-checkout; deal with the hilarity that is Lowe's Self Checkout for a good 10-20 minutes. Wonder why both Lowes and Target male staff have PA accents while the girls all sound like they've been squirted out of some kind of back alley Louisiana gang bang. Hump two box fans (plus the rest of my daily kit) to the Jahniggle bus stop. Buy a Lipton Iced Tea. Wait. Whip out the DS. Wait some more. Bus finally shows up. Ride bus from Waterfront through Homestead, Squirrel Hill (late rush hour, so we're on that hill for a Lesser Forever), Oakland, South Side. Walk a couple of blocks and DS some more instead of humping another eight blocks just to see how long it takes for the bus to show up. Home. Stow the spare fan, plug in the real fan, notice the Dead Fan and the New Fan are both Lasko. Check the time. ALMOST EIGHT. WHERE IS MY TIME FOR LIFE?!?!?!. Rush some freelance and head for the bar. Bar. Return. Write a nice big * and lose track of ([]).

Bed prep. Doritos, gatorade, and Dexter. Jennifer Carpenter. Happiness.

** I refer to my first time in Philly, in which the Overwhelming Silence CRUSHED MY SOUL and I wound up sleeping with my head in harb's closet, my ear as close to hyperion (his firewall/server at the time) as I could get it without pressing metal.