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Sunday, August 31, 2003
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IN THE REALM OF THE GAIMAN FAN
I know, I shouldn't obsess over this but I don't get out much and the external stimuli has given me much to write about. Besides, if the last post got too big, Blogger wouldn't post it then I'd get pissed off and throw my monitor into the wall. Then NO posts. About anything.
But I don't think I got as detailed as I need to about the people at this signing. So I will take this opportunity to.
There was a really fat guy with with a tiny mohawk. I always thought the huge mohawk had something of a slimming effect but what do I know?
There was an overweight girl, no less than about 180 wearing a long, black, heavy overcoat opened to reveal a spandex top about three sizes to small for her. The neckline looked like it was litterally CUTTING into her tits. The clevage spilled over the neckline, which I couldn't help but look at. It was like a car accident, I couldn't stop looking. And I was obvious about it, too. I was hoping she'd say something like, "do you mind?" to which I'd reply, "Hey Sweetheart, I don't remember getting a fucking VOTE whether I look or not! Either put those fucking things away or shut up, okay? Thank you."
I'm all about diplomacy. I'm the Kissinger of Cans.
Then there were the guys in front of me. Wow! One of these guys was quiet. But his fucking ears did all the talking. This guy had what I suppose can be called earrings, but they weren't. It looked like he had carved a HUGE hole in his earlobe and then held it open with a washer or something. I could see right THROUGH this guy's ear! I could see his fucking neck! It was douche chills for five hours. Oh, those weren't his only ear piecings. He had these bolts that entered and exited through the top of the ear, then re-entered and exited at about a 45 degree angle. I can only hope this guy has discovered the "artistic potential" of his own genitals. I'd love to hear that inner dialouge. "You know, I have a beautiful cock! But I know I can make it better! Here's what I'll do......drive a steel rod right through the middle of the shaft." Because, without Theyledomyde readily available anymore where will the freak babies of the 21st century come from? Lead poisoning, I suppose.
He also had a half coloured tattoo on his arm that read "You can't roll 7's all your life." Okay, this I can relate to. I've often thought of mangling the third verse of "Tumbling Dice" by the Rolling Stones and putting it on my arm. The difference is, I DIDN'T! I looked at this guy and realised what a guy who sits down and complies a list of "ways I can look like a douche when I'm 50" looks like. You'll see him someday, too. Just watch "Cops" regularly. You can't miss the tattoo. Or the ears. I was going to recommend that the guy get a "smiley-waving" Yahoo emote tattooed on his neck right behind the giant holes in his earlobe but I thought better of it. I was outnumbered 1,500 to one. I'm a pussy sometimes, I know.
Then there was his buddy. This guy, Eric, had a shaved head and one of those long, thin chin beards like the guy in Queens of the Stone Age. This guy talked. Constantly. I learned more about this guy in 5 hours than I've learned about MYSELF in 33 YEARS! Consequently, I hated this guy more than I hate myself.
I learned everything about this guy and his views on everything without him ever talking directly to me. I was afraid he was going to start, but I think he feared the size of my Caro biography of Lyndon Johnson. He only had two Gaiman trade parebacks while I had a 1,200 page hardcover by serious historian. The sheer weight of my book would crush him like a fucking bug! He was right to fear me and everything I stand for. But he was bearable until his "cousin" showed up.
Eric was 27, he wouldn't stop advertisizing that. His cousin was in her mid-forties. Is this even possible? Doesn't matter. She was a highly fuckable mid-forties; nice face, sort of blonde hair, nice B cup breasts and an ass that just....spoke to me. In a secret language that only I can understand. It said things to me, but I won't tell you what they are. Some things should stay private. I mean I wouldn't have a public fight with my girlfriend on this blog, right......Okay, bad example.
Any thought I had of these two not being related was immediately dispelled when these two started talking. It was
amazing how these two could yenta. For two hours, I listened to this. The "blonde's" 17 year old daughter was amazed by these two. Oh, and humiliated, too. I'm all about empathy. Empathy and diplomacy. Maybe I'm not Kissinger, maybe I'm Ghandhi!
The most annoying part of all was when we landed at the feet of Gaiman, the yenta cousins got out of the line. They weren't there to meet Gaiman or get anything signed, they were keeping their friends/daughters comapany! And making my life hell, we can't forget that.
And that's when I felt a deep, unending sadness for Gaiman.
I've had to deal with his fans for one day in 33 years. He gets them for the rest of his life.
But he'll never have to spend five hours with them.
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