I was driving home from my last science class EVER a few months back (can a get a hallefucklujah and an amen, brother) behind a car with the license plate FAWKES. This made me all happy in the pants and various other appendage encasing garments. I was all like, rock on with your bad self, nerd. I wished my license plate read CODEX so he would know that I was down and that we were kindred.
And then I realized that I was a geek stranded in a world full of norms.
But never have I felt like such a lonely little camper as I have this past week. A week full of celebratory geek gatherings for which I had no partner in crime. Er, crime fighting. Portland hosted their first big comic con (chill out supernerds, I know there have been others, but none such as this) and let me just rattle off a few of the guests. Norman Reedus and Michael Rooker. And by that I mean DARYL and MERLE from THE WALKING DEAD. Which happens to be my FAVORITE SHOW and FAVORITE CHARACTER. Ok, I’ll stop shouting, but that generates some heat up in hurr. But wait, there’s more. Stan Lee, Bruce Campbell, BRENT SPINER and James Marsters (SPIKE. Swoon.).
But a girl can’t go to a comic con on her own, y’all. At least not this girl. What with the anxiety and the depression and the general sense of self -loathing, I would have spent the entire day hyperventilating in the bathroom and hating myself for lacking the nuts to gush and gawk with my fellow fanpeeps. And 35 dolla bills is a lot of money for a self-flagellating bathroom hang. I mean, I already have four bathrooms and a flat lining self-esteem. And don’t have to pay for parking. Win.
So I didn’t go and it’s sort of cool because there has been a whole lot of hubbub about the pretty cheesedick move of the interloping newb, Wizard World, scheduling their con the week prior to the established Emerald City con in Seattle. I think there are more than enough geeks in the Pacific Northwest to handle two conventions, but within a week of each other? I know I’m not driving 3 1/2 hours to hang with another gang of sweaty nerds in cosplay.
But, oh wait, what’s that you say? Scully, Castiel, Wil Wheaton, Felicia motherfucking Day, SIR PATRICK STEWART? Omg, omg, omg. How much can I get for a gently used, unusually grumpy, red-headed pre-schooler? Because I AM THERE.
Except. No fellow nerd with whom to geek out about all the loves of my life.
To top it off, last night the King of the Internets, Wil Wheaton, was at the Alberta Rose communing with the local nerds alongside Paul and Storm and the Doubleclicks. Alas, they performed for one less lonely little nerd. I took to the interwebbers to salve my fractured spirit. And maybe yours as well. Live long and prosper, y’all.