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Jun. 6th, 2011 12:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeRight: Con, day two. This post using my icon of omg tired because I can't use a Misha icon, it gives me funny feelings.
So, we got there after four hours of sleep and no actual breakfast. I meant to get breakfast but found myself instead in the line for the Misha Collins photo op. Out of everyone during the day, I think he made me the most nervous. He came out and all of a sudden my brain shut down and I was flustered. I haven't been flustered in a while, not like that. Suddenly I was nervous. I ended up tweeting repeatedly at Kiki to make sure my Russian was correct. And then I caught his attention for about a second as he passed, I told him he didn't look tired at all (because, you know, it's a con. You're either manic or you're wiped) and he said "Thank you! you too." and I pointed out that it was a con and he was all "Well, true *ducks into room*" So, that happened. And then there was lining up and there was hugging Misha and making faces at the camera (seriously, I take terrible pictures, I just haven't figured out how to relax for them yet). I told him, Доброе утро and he said it back and ... I can't remember if he asked how I was or what my name was, dammit. And I said "Ahhhh. Я говорю плохо по-русски" which, essentially "ah, no. I speak very bad Russian." (Okay, not very bad.) and he was all "Я тоже", me too. And the frightening/exhilirating thing is, I pretty much understood him straight off.
SO! That happened. Then I promptly flipped out about the fact that I understood him and it was awesome. And, really, this was when I SHOULD have eaten, since I wasn't as interested in the Guy Norman Bee talk but somehow, with one thing and another and getting a second Richard Speight Jr picture because the first one just made me laugh too much and every other damn thing, I didn't. I ended up going down and, oh! I know what I was doing. I was squeeing to everyone about my Russian prowess.
No, seriously, this ought to kill the caterpillars for at least a couple of weeks. I have a decent enough command of the language that I can babble in Russian at someone who makes my brain go to mush, and understand him straight off, right back. The babbling was a bit more rehearsed, the understanding part was a bit harder. SEE CATERPILLARS. FUCK OFF.
So, anyway. I went over for the Chad Lindberg/Brock Kelly (who I adored way more than I expected to)/Richard Speight Jr talk. Richard drove Ali nuts with the promptly getting off stage and becoming impossible to follow with a stationary anything. He also did a LOT of busting Brock's chops, which was cute and also made me kind of protective of Brock. Chad Lindberg sort of bounced between the two of them. I asked a question and Richard completely dodged it while simultaneously making it so ridiculous no one could probably even remember what it had been in the first place. Well, and it was a pretty poking question, so that's all right. I count it as revenge for the Mjolnir thing even if I don't think he recognized me. There was another question I participated in, and I say this because it referenced the Jericho nuts phenomenon. Which basically was, Jericho had gotten cancelled after a ringing out of gunshots and everything going black. And the fans were understandably pissed, no one knew what had happened, who lived or who died or who got injured or how anything at all ended, it was the opposite of closure. So, since the main character's response to a demand of surrender was "nuts" (a historical reference), the fans sent nuts to the studios. 25. Tons. Of them. Or at least that was the figure I remembered, and Richard was telling the story and passing me at the time, so I called over to him that they sent 25 tons of nuts. And he passed behind me, still telling the story, and then turned and looked at me because I guess ... something. And was all "What was it, 25 tons?" "Yep, 25 tons." Literally. I know it was tons and I know it was twenty-something, and I'm pretty sure it was 25 tons. That was... actually pretty good feeling. Just, making a moment of contact and solid, handshake, strengthening contact. I liked it.
Anyway, so. *cough* Then I went and ran and grabbed a burger for Ali, grabbed our pictures from yesterday (oh dear god I forgot how much I hate my own pictures) and made it back in time for Corin Nemec. Yes, I know I should have gotten something to eat. Corin Nemec, though, turned out to be totally worth it. I knew from last year's encounter at Dragon*Con that he was amazing one-on-one, but I didn't know how awesome he'd be in a stage-and-audience setting. But he was. I asked him... since someone broke the The Stand questions I asked him if he could be in the remake they're kind of sort of maybe working on, would he rather be Stu or Larry. He picked, and somehow when I was thinking about this question I kind of knew he'd pick it, Trashcan Man. I tried to get him to do a Trashcan Man but he didn't. Alas. :)
I went up, did the photo op with Brock Kelly, lined up and made line buddies on the line with Corin Nemec, snuggled Corin Nemec and told him to get his ass to Dragon*Con. Hah, I remember also now that earlier when they brought Corin Nemec up I called out, while everyone was catcalling at him, Don't touch my stereo, Nadine and someone was all "The Stand, yeah!"
And then there was Misha. I went down for the end of the auction and hung around and then there was Misha. Oh god, Misha. Um... I didn't ask any questions, I just called out an answer when someone asked about the rhino puzzle and someone, maybe Misha, phrased it as "something happened somewhere that you didn't see" and I shouted out "Twitter happened." and Misha snatched up that phrasing and ran with it. Or thought of it at the same time, one or the other. The details are all online, I'm sure.
And then there was the cocktail party. And by that point I was feeling very, very thoroughly... afraid. I was feeling young (or old, depending on the moment) and fat and ugly and pushy and grabby and over-eager and all manner of unsavory, dirty, sticky things. I had a drink, which was probably a less than stellar idea considering that by this point all I'd had to eat was an eclair and six pieces of sushi. On four hours' sleep. Yes, this was stupid, but there you go. I had a drink, the first person to come by my table was Richard Speight Jr. And since he ended up sitting next to me and one of the girls from last night's dance fest, we had to reference how we tried to drag him onto the dance floor. He was very hahahahahano. And then I did possibly one of the stupidest things I've done all con, I, um. May have been pushy and told Richard he should give me the chance to regale him with Norse myth saga regarding Loki. Or something. I don't even remember what I said specifically, but he pointed out that they only had a short time. So I passed him my goddamn twitter address and shut up. Mostly.
Yes, I passed Richard Speight Jr my twitter address. With a little note so he would know what the hell he had when he cleaned out his pockets later of lint and god knows what. Spare change. Receipts. "Oh, hey, what's this? Oh yeah. *bin*"
Ahem. ANYway. So, we got... hell, who did we get next. Brock! Brock was a sweetheart. And easier, someone asked him how he'd gotten discovered (apparently by someone calling him Brad Pitt, I think by reference) and I asked him if he was doing all right, tried to be gentle about telling him that he really obviously looked nervous/new. But he was all right, he was sweet, and it felt better. Helped a little confidence. Because then Misha came up and I first thanked him for taking it easy on me with the Russian then there were a couple questions, he stayed for about a minute, literally. And then I did the really stupid thing and blurted out if I could ask him where in DC he lived, and since he was running away he just called it over his shoulder.
And there was method to my madness. Because I've wanted to know this for about two or three years now, since I learned he lived in DC for a while, but oh my god it was a personal question and he didn't stick around long enough for me to explain why and. Augh. Mortification and woe and shame. A lot of all three.
So, after that there was Chad, and I couldn't come up with anything pithy for Chad. And after THAT there was Corin, and I sat back some for Corin although he's sweet and adorable and it's easier for me to talk to him than the others.
(And, holy shit, Traci Dinwiddie aka Pamela Barnes just bloody tweeted me to say she wanted to see me in the costume contest.)
Anyway. Um. So that happened. Another funny thing, though, you guys remember the dream I had about two weeks ago where Misha drank all the gin? Well, I didn't find an appropriate place to bring that up to Misha, and I'm glad I didn't push it, but I got the drinks menu from the Sunday cocktail party and they had the main Supernatural cast as alcoholic drinks and the supporting cast as mixers. And Cas? Was gin. Yeah.
And then we went down to the autograph line. And I chatted some more with Brock and Corin, poor Corin, who asked for coffee and got tea-looking coffee. And I did, thank god, get to apologize to Misha for the personal question and explain that I was curious because I'm from DC, I used to hang out at Dupont Circle, play guitar, um. I didn't tell him about marching through Dupont Circle with a pride parade >.> But, listing off a few fun things I remember doing, and he asked if I busked, and I told him I used to help sort the change from my Dad's violin case. And, god, I remember doing that too, now that I think about it. Pretty vividly. I remember the sun shone warm and there were a lot of quarters and.
Anyway. So, I think, I hope that clarified some and made me out to be less of a creepy stalker. Especially since I wasn't trying to find out where he lived NOW. Just, where he'd been and if we had places and experience in common. Um. Oh! Chad's autograph went by pretty quick, but I also got a second autograph from Richard. Which is going in my binder. And which he signed the same way, but I think this time more as an... I really, really hesitate to say this, but more of as an in-joke? And I apologized profusely (and exhaustedly) for being pushy about, well, heh, everything at him. But he protested that hey, we were both having fun, that's what it was about right? Which is true but I still have brainweasels that I was annoying him. But. It was good. It was ... I didn't linger too long and hold up the line, and later I got his attention when he was crossing the stage and I was in line in front of it, almost tapped his foot but I managed without, and told him to go give Ali a hug for tormenting her whe he was supposedly in front of the camera. Or meant to be in front of the camera except he kept wandering.
So, that happened. I got signed CDs and then we got food and got back to home and BED and oh god. So, that was the Supernatural con. I am exhausted. I am slightly ambivalent about myself, but I think I managed to make up for any uncomfortableness I caused. And in the end, I did have a whole hell of a lot of fun. So. Totally. Worth it.
So, we got there after four hours of sleep and no actual breakfast. I meant to get breakfast but found myself instead in the line for the Misha Collins photo op. Out of everyone during the day, I think he made me the most nervous. He came out and all of a sudden my brain shut down and I was flustered. I haven't been flustered in a while, not like that. Suddenly I was nervous. I ended up tweeting repeatedly at Kiki to make sure my Russian was correct. And then I caught his attention for about a second as he passed, I told him he didn't look tired at all (because, you know, it's a con. You're either manic or you're wiped) and he said "Thank you! you too." and I pointed out that it was a con and he was all "Well, true *ducks into room*" So, that happened. And then there was lining up and there was hugging Misha and making faces at the camera (seriously, I take terrible pictures, I just haven't figured out how to relax for them yet). I told him, Доброе утро and he said it back and ... I can't remember if he asked how I was or what my name was, dammit. And I said "Ahhhh. Я говорю плохо по-русски" which, essentially "ah, no. I speak very bad Russian." (Okay, not very bad.) and he was all "Я тоже", me too. And the frightening/exhilirating thing is, I pretty much understood him straight off.
SO! That happened. Then I promptly flipped out about the fact that I understood him and it was awesome. And, really, this was when I SHOULD have eaten, since I wasn't as interested in the Guy Norman Bee talk but somehow, with one thing and another and getting a second Richard Speight Jr picture because the first one just made me laugh too much and every other damn thing, I didn't. I ended up going down and, oh! I know what I was doing. I was squeeing to everyone about my Russian prowess.
No, seriously, this ought to kill the caterpillars for at least a couple of weeks. I have a decent enough command of the language that I can babble in Russian at someone who makes my brain go to mush, and understand him straight off, right back. The babbling was a bit more rehearsed, the understanding part was a bit harder. SEE CATERPILLARS. FUCK OFF.
So, anyway. I went over for the Chad Lindberg/Brock Kelly (who I adored way more than I expected to)/Richard Speight Jr talk. Richard drove Ali nuts with the promptly getting off stage and becoming impossible to follow with a stationary anything. He also did a LOT of busting Brock's chops, which was cute and also made me kind of protective of Brock. Chad Lindberg sort of bounced between the two of them. I asked a question and Richard completely dodged it while simultaneously making it so ridiculous no one could probably even remember what it had been in the first place. Well, and it was a pretty poking question, so that's all right. I count it as revenge for the Mjolnir thing even if I don't think he recognized me. There was another question I participated in, and I say this because it referenced the Jericho nuts phenomenon. Which basically was, Jericho had gotten cancelled after a ringing out of gunshots and everything going black. And the fans were understandably pissed, no one knew what had happened, who lived or who died or who got injured or how anything at all ended, it was the opposite of closure. So, since the main character's response to a demand of surrender was "nuts" (a historical reference), the fans sent nuts to the studios. 25. Tons. Of them. Or at least that was the figure I remembered, and Richard was telling the story and passing me at the time, so I called over to him that they sent 25 tons of nuts. And he passed behind me, still telling the story, and then turned and looked at me because I guess ... something. And was all "What was it, 25 tons?" "Yep, 25 tons." Literally. I know it was tons and I know it was twenty-something, and I'm pretty sure it was 25 tons. That was... actually pretty good feeling. Just, making a moment of contact and solid, handshake, strengthening contact. I liked it.
Anyway, so. *cough* Then I went and ran and grabbed a burger for Ali, grabbed our pictures from yesterday (oh dear god I forgot how much I hate my own pictures) and made it back in time for Corin Nemec. Yes, I know I should have gotten something to eat. Corin Nemec, though, turned out to be totally worth it. I knew from last year's encounter at Dragon*Con that he was amazing one-on-one, but I didn't know how awesome he'd be in a stage-and-audience setting. But he was. I asked him... since someone broke the The Stand questions I asked him if he could be in the remake they're kind of sort of maybe working on, would he rather be Stu or Larry. He picked, and somehow when I was thinking about this question I kind of knew he'd pick it, Trashcan Man. I tried to get him to do a Trashcan Man but he didn't. Alas. :)
I went up, did the photo op with Brock Kelly, lined up and made line buddies on the line with Corin Nemec, snuggled Corin Nemec and told him to get his ass to Dragon*Con. Hah, I remember also now that earlier when they brought Corin Nemec up I called out, while everyone was catcalling at him, Don't touch my stereo, Nadine and someone was all "The Stand, yeah!"
And then there was Misha. I went down for the end of the auction and hung around and then there was Misha. Oh god, Misha. Um... I didn't ask any questions, I just called out an answer when someone asked about the rhino puzzle and someone, maybe Misha, phrased it as "something happened somewhere that you didn't see" and I shouted out "Twitter happened." and Misha snatched up that phrasing and ran with it. Or thought of it at the same time, one or the other. The details are all online, I'm sure.
And then there was the cocktail party. And by that point I was feeling very, very thoroughly... afraid. I was feeling young (or old, depending on the moment) and fat and ugly and pushy and grabby and over-eager and all manner of unsavory, dirty, sticky things. I had a drink, which was probably a less than stellar idea considering that by this point all I'd had to eat was an eclair and six pieces of sushi. On four hours' sleep. Yes, this was stupid, but there you go. I had a drink, the first person to come by my table was Richard Speight Jr. And since he ended up sitting next to me and one of the girls from last night's dance fest, we had to reference how we tried to drag him onto the dance floor. He was very hahahahahano. And then I did possibly one of the stupidest things I've done all con, I, um. May have been pushy and told Richard he should give me the chance to regale him with Norse myth saga regarding Loki. Or something. I don't even remember what I said specifically, but he pointed out that they only had a short time. So I passed him my goddamn twitter address and shut up. Mostly.
Yes, I passed Richard Speight Jr my twitter address. With a little note so he would know what the hell he had when he cleaned out his pockets later of lint and god knows what. Spare change. Receipts. "Oh, hey, what's this? Oh yeah. *bin*"
Ahem. ANYway. So, we got... hell, who did we get next. Brock! Brock was a sweetheart. And easier, someone asked him how he'd gotten discovered (apparently by someone calling him Brad Pitt, I think by reference) and I asked him if he was doing all right, tried to be gentle about telling him that he really obviously looked nervous/new. But he was all right, he was sweet, and it felt better. Helped a little confidence. Because then Misha came up and I first thanked him for taking it easy on me with the Russian then there were a couple questions, he stayed for about a minute, literally. And then I did the really stupid thing and blurted out if I could ask him where in DC he lived, and since he was running away he just called it over his shoulder.
And there was method to my madness. Because I've wanted to know this for about two or three years now, since I learned he lived in DC for a while, but oh my god it was a personal question and he didn't stick around long enough for me to explain why and. Augh. Mortification and woe and shame. A lot of all three.
So, after that there was Chad, and I couldn't come up with anything pithy for Chad. And after THAT there was Corin, and I sat back some for Corin although he's sweet and adorable and it's easier for me to talk to him than the others.
(And, holy shit, Traci Dinwiddie aka Pamela Barnes just bloody tweeted me to say she wanted to see me in the costume contest.)
Anyway. Um. So that happened. Another funny thing, though, you guys remember the dream I had about two weeks ago where Misha drank all the gin? Well, I didn't find an appropriate place to bring that up to Misha, and I'm glad I didn't push it, but I got the drinks menu from the Sunday cocktail party and they had the main Supernatural cast as alcoholic drinks and the supporting cast as mixers. And Cas? Was gin. Yeah.
And then we went down to the autograph line. And I chatted some more with Brock and Corin, poor Corin, who asked for coffee and got tea-looking coffee. And I did, thank god, get to apologize to Misha for the personal question and explain that I was curious because I'm from DC, I used to hang out at Dupont Circle, play guitar, um. I didn't tell him about marching through Dupont Circle with a pride parade >.> But, listing off a few fun things I remember doing, and he asked if I busked, and I told him I used to help sort the change from my Dad's violin case. And, god, I remember doing that too, now that I think about it. Pretty vividly. I remember the sun shone warm and there were a lot of quarters and.
Anyway. So, I think, I hope that clarified some and made me out to be less of a creepy stalker. Especially since I wasn't trying to find out where he lived NOW. Just, where he'd been and if we had places and experience in common. Um. Oh! Chad's autograph went by pretty quick, but I also got a second autograph from Richard. Which is going in my binder. And which he signed the same way, but I think this time more as an... I really, really hesitate to say this, but more of as an in-joke? And I apologized profusely (and exhaustedly) for being pushy about, well, heh, everything at him. But he protested that hey, we were both having fun, that's what it was about right? Which is true but I still have brainweasels that I was annoying him. But. It was good. It was ... I didn't linger too long and hold up the line, and later I got his attention when he was crossing the stage and I was in line in front of it, almost tapped his foot but I managed without, and told him to go give Ali a hug for tormenting her whe he was supposedly in front of the camera. Or meant to be in front of the camera except he kept wandering.
So, that happened. I got signed CDs and then we got food and got back to home and BED and oh god. So, that was the Supernatural con. I am exhausted. I am slightly ambivalent about myself, but I think I managed to make up for any uncomfortableness I caused. And in the end, I did have a whole hell of a lot of fun. So. Totally. Worth it.