I'M AWAKE, BITCHES (esteemed ladies and gents)!

Had that dream where my face is preternaturally wrinkly and, well, you know how that one goes.

Woke up just after the bit where I’m spinning with my chainsaw arms in the room full of kindergartners, and discovered the bagpipe music I thought was just part of the nightmare was actually squeaking up at me from somewhere down in the streets, along with the blaring train horns and turkey gobbling of people amassing for the con day ahead. Reading over that last line, it comes off as people amassing for the “corn dog” ahead.

Really hoping more people go for a sci-fi space salute instead of a handshake today, as even just yesterday the touching of damp, human hands was a bit much. It gets to where you go in for the handshake and the juices from their balmy flesh just accelerate your gesture so that you slide right past their hand, impaling their stomachs instead. Before you even know it you’re shaking some hunk of their large intestine, smiling casually in hopes that they think it was all very deliberate.

Anyhow, the day’s just begun, I’m incredibly fat from all that pasta I drank last night, and it’s time to hit the gym (spinning in the desk chair here in the room). If you’re planning on coming by the SLG booth, I sign from 2-4, take a short break where people tap me on the shoulder to scream that they can’t come back later because their house is on fire and they have to leave right now and could I please sign their thigh-pimple ridden arms, then come back to sign from 5:30-7.

Wish.
Me.
Luck.