tobermory's Diaryland Diary


'Con roundup

I have been gifted with a bounty of phlegm. It fills my sinuses, my nose, my lungs and my throat. Donít you wish you were me? Itís all because of that damned Weetacon. Green Bay just about killed me and I didnít even go to the Bad Bar (insert sounds of abject sobbing as that is expressly what I went up there for). Ah well, since I now know that itís only 3 Ĺ hours to get up there and the St. Brendanís is a fabulous little inn, I think Iíll be back (if the lovely and kind Weet will have me) for a weekend in the late spring. And if I can talk Alli into going back with me. She was a good and true friend and stayed with me on Saturday night as I shook with chills and then sweated it all out Ė she could have gone to the Bad Bar, but she stayed with me and for that I am thankful since I was fairly certain at one point that I had either toxic shock or something equally evil. What I did experience of the Ďcon was most excellent Ė the Sleigh Ride and Tailgate on Friday were phenomenally planned and may I say, a sleigh ride is so much more fun when you can check out the cute butt of the hot cowboy driving the sleigh? The tailgate - what can I say but BOOYAH! Itís my new favorite soup. The High Maintenance Hamburger lunch on Saturday was so greasy that it kicked my poor gallbladder-less body into fat overdrive, but it was so good that I didnít really care (Squeee! Fried cheese curds!). All the attendees were even nicer than I imagined and I got some really excellent swag (and I hope everyone liked my swag CD). Hopefully this will happen again next year and I wonít come down with the black plague so I can fully participate. Before being completely felled by the plague I did manage to squeeze in one of the best massages of my life Ė an hour and a half hot stone massage with a 15 minute scalp treatment. AhhhhhÖÖ I admit that I was a little weirded out by my masseuse as I havenít had too many male masseuses, but whatever. My only suggestion to him is that he start in some other way than oiling up my legs and running his hands all the way up the insides of my legs Ė it was awfully close to my cootchie if you get my drift. And although there was no sexy impropriety going on, Iíve gotten out of the habit of strange men touching my in my No Fly Zone Ė even if it is healing and medicinal. Iíll stop now as this is starting to sound a bit like a Forum letter.

Anyway, now Iím on a drug-cocktail of Dayquil (or Nyquil), something to de-phlegm me, and good olí Vitamin C Ė the results of which mean that Iím kinda spacey. Iíve almost rear-ended two cars and I keep zoning out on conversations Ė I can hear the other person talking, but itís more like a far away buzzing sound. My iron-willed reserve is cracking too - I keep planning on heading to the gym, but then I realize that itís probably better for me to go straight home and hit the couch, so I do. Iíve also bombed out on the past couple boot camp classes Ė I donít think they want me to run ten paces and then hack up a loogie on their new track so Iíve been sparing them the joy of my presence. Iíll try again on Friday Ė maybe by then Iíll have hacked up all the green stuff..

I should mention that the plague didnít stop me from making a detour to Gurnee Mills outlet mall on the way home. I scored some nice basic t-shirts from Banana Republic, and from the Off 5th Saks outlet I replaced my worn out black tank dress, found a pair of khakis that donít make me look like a lumpen mass, picked up a $15 green cardigan for St. Pattyís day and finally found a cool western-style shirt (Marc Jacobs no less!). Should I have driven straight home and gotten in bed? Yes, but then I wouldnít have found all the cool stuff that I did.

OK Ė Iíve got to go. I can hear the siren song of the couch and the warm fleecy blankets and the Nyquil.

4:26 p.m. - 2005-03-09


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