Reality is not my property, and I have no rights to it. Therefore,
any resemblance between this and reality is purely coincidental.
Anime North 2000 Confanfic a.k.a.
Weekend at the Convention of Good and (Mostly) Evil
Call me Ishmael. No, wait, on second thought, don't. I wouldn't
respond to that. Call me Matt, instead. Let's see, how's the best
way to begin? Some say that there are neither beginnings no endings
to the turning of the Wheel of Time. That the Wheel turns, and Ages
come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to
myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it
birth comes again. I think that's a load of bollocks, myself.
"Smell my man-scent!"
"Matt, are you getting people to smell your man-scent again?"
So, I arrive at the con and find people who are to be staying
at my place for the con, as well as others. We had some time to
kill, so I took them out on a nice, relaxing, wholesome activity:
baby seal clubbing. Lara wussed out, so I got her to hold my extra
clubs. She started to give me some lip, but then I reminded ger who
was putting her up for the weekend, and she fell in line pretty
hot-damn quick. A deal was reached, wherein she didn't have to
carry my spare clubs and in return agreed to be my enforcer for the
weekend (we celebrated with milk nd cookies-- yay!). She started to
beat Mercutio with them. He took it like a l'il bitch.
Nick did not want to join us, something about cruelty to
animals, morals, ethic, I don't know-- I think he was speaking in
tongues or a foreign language at least-- I certainly didn't
understand those words.
"Hey, where's Squiggly?" (about Mercutio)
"You know, he looks kinda squiggly looking" (explaining "Squiggly")
(More) Random thoughts:
People kept asking me about the CDs in the dealer's room, and
if there were any legitimate ones: I told them to sod off, what do
I look like? con staff? They were miffed. Luckily, Lara proved to
be an efficient enforcer of my will.
The music viedeos: headbanging-armwaving dude-- man, the 80's
are over, and where was your lighter?
And speaking about the sound, just because it's loud, doesn't
mean it's good. Don't use the same theory that Otakon did last year
in the main room-- namely, that if we turn it up real loud, no one
will notice the distortion/bad sound/whatever.
Saw three (3) young women get impregnated by The Living
Marshmellow.
Alan plans to eat meatballs and play pool with
Kunihiko Ikuhara at CNAnime.
Didn't open up a can of Whoop Ass at the SM fanfic panel,
mainly due to my leaving it at home. Damn memory, not remembering
things and stuff. I blame it on Mercutio. Lara enforced my will on
him. It involved a bottle of Pepsi, affectionately nicknamed the Mk
II. I really wish I had my can of Whoop Ass. What was that about
molesting everyone?
Mmmm, I could sure go for a nice sausage right now. Most of the
panelists don't read as much fanfics now as they used to-- time
constraints and all that. I can understand. They kept using the
word "guilt." I asked a couple of people to explain this strange
word and concept to be, but to no avail-- it remains, as ever, a
mystery.
Fairly standard questions, fairly standard answers, albeit
long-winded. Squiggly (Mercutio), proves his strength with a
flimsly plastic cup. I'm actually writing this as the panel goes
on-- not jotting down notes, but actually writing this, pretty much
word for word. Sentences and parapgraphs and stuff. The panel just
seemed well, rather given to monologues, and
details/plots/storylines/stories of particular fics (which
generally went unnamed, except for the panelist claiming to be said
author of it), and often was used for no discernable purpose, not
to back up a point being made. While I do realise that
self-promotion and title-dropping is a reward for being a panelist,
there should be a limit, yes? Everyone answered every question, as
well, it seemed. Beans was the exception, though; her answers were
short, concise, and refreshingly brief-- every word counted. As
such, when she spoke, I tended to listen more. She also did not
wander into an off-topic ramble. I wish I could be like that. Well,
no I don't, really. I love to hear the sound of my own voice; it's
resonant and mellifluous and very manly-- oh yeah, baby!
The guy running the fanfic contest disparaged other fanfic
contests, saying that theirs was the first and that others had at
times copied significant portions of their rules/FAQ-- did I
mention that Nick had mentioned that AN is not the only one to have
the contest at the start of the panel? He (Nick) was a judge, I
believe, for the AnimeFest convention last year-- and yet I didn't
win anything in that contest-- I really, _really_ wish I had my can
of Whoop Ass here.
It was at this point that we finally rose up and threw off the
chains of their domination. Alan kissed his fists and announced
that it was time to, "Let loose the lads-- they want their fun!"
Squiggly took the hits for us, serving the role of human shield
admirably. Sean did stuff, but he wasn't wearing an Ugly Shirt, so
we didn't care-- did I mention that it was Ugly Shirt day? Lara
used the Mk II to great effect. Nick lamented that we should "make
love, not war," and then did a dance. I have pictures, and they're
not doctored ACen pics or anything, either. He'll deny it if you
ask him though, but it happened, no, really. As for me? Well, I
threw so many punches they begged me for a kick. One guy, well,
let's just say candy came out. Beans was actually just too nice to
be a target, and so came through the brawl unscathed.
<sniff> Kinda reminds me when I was living in residence and my
floor's intramural floor hockey team got in a bench clearing brawl.
o/~ Memories o/~
It went well, so I didn't have to reveal any of my contacts to
the world at large, which I have. Just don't ask me about Zaire
Central Africa and monarchies and everything will be fine.
"Oh Iris, I'm so hot!"
As to the Masquerade, well, I was able to convince Lara, Al,
Sean and Squiggly that it was being held at the Woodbine Racetrack.
Sean mentioned his surprise at this, but an explanation that in
Canada we go for cosplay in a real big way seemed to mollify his
concerns-- well, that and the browbeating. I threatened to use one
of the baby seal clubs from the previous day to beat his brow-- he
saw how effecive I was with them and conceded my point. Further, I
explained that it was an elaborate, themed cosplay from an obscure
anime which involved horses and small men.
Now, I explained this part very carefully: to vote, and it was
all participatory, one had to spend money-- one could vote more
than once, too, and that I needed them to help me place all my
votes. Did I mention that odds of winning and placing and stuff
were also given?
So, after a lucrative day at the track-- I mean, placing
"votes," I collected my winnings, a reward for placing votes on the
winners is that you got your votes back, multiplied by whatever
odds were being given for them to win, or place, or show. Kind of
like a token of appreciation, really. So after that we went to
celebrate my keen cosplay eye and good judgement and I sprung for
some Cuban cigars. Normally I wouldn't get cigars, but hey, they
were Cubans, and these ones were rolled by Elian himself, who was
watched over by Fidel Castro as he rolled them. They were really
good, even better than a sausage.
"Put the cards face up, and body parts are open...."
(Even) More Random thoughts:
Did I mention that Alan, Lara, Mercutio (Squiggly) and I had
far too much fun with my dogs? Two miniature daschunds-- one we got
to howl, and the other to dance.
Took them out and Lara purchased her own crack mints-- I think
she underestimated her addiction to them in how many she bought and
how long she planned for them to last, though.
"Sassy!"
Alan and Sean locked legs and smiled-- shortly after a bird
crapped on Alan's finger.We left Sean at the hotel and went back to
my place. All I'll say about what went on there that night is that
Lara howled and Alan was shirtless.
In the morning they watched, fascinated, as I stroked my
weiner, and it got excited... the dog, I mean, weiner dog. On
Friday, Alan noticed my fly was undone; on Saturday, Mercution
(Squiggly) did-- what I want to know is: what were they doing
looking at my crotch? Little known fact: an undone fly is a sign of
virility in Canada-- you know, "bursting forth" and "uncontainable"
and all that. Am I making you randy, yet?
"A-mo-nite!"
Sunday was more anti-climactic than the usual slowdown day for
a con-- people buggered off with extreme abruptness. I picked up a
poster I bid on in the charity auction-- a signed Cyberteam in
Akihabara poster. Actually, I went to pick it up, when I remembered
that I forgot the receipt at home, so I had to drive back and pick
it up. At least I remembered my can of Whoop Ass. Mmmm, tasty--
even better than a sausage.
That's it, that's all I have to say, you'd not believe the
rest, away with you!