The Convention – Friday

some of this is copied from earlier FB posts, some of it’s new.

Friday – okay, peripheral neuropathy has left my feet numb to about 70% of the sensations they should be feeling, but even so, the full spa pedicure at Enso Nails was damn near orgasmic. my feet felt better by the time the technician was through with them than they have in years. there was humor as the technician, with her less-than-perfect grasp of the English language, came to terms with my desire for ‘color’. 
‘you want color?’
‘yes, color – go ask my wife what color.
she goes to where dorris is getting a manicure.
‘you husband, he want color?’
‘yes, yes he does.’
‘what color?’
so dorris chose a metallic blue, and while the girl is painting my toes, two or three of the technicians wander by, look at what she’s doing and then look at me, asking, ‘color?’
‘yes, color,’ i’d reply.
then she put on the designs… more fun yet again. (a little pink fish on each big toenail, with waves and water-side reeds.) other technicians stopped by during that as well, but they’d already figured out i was a freak and merely stared.

then we were on the road to dallas, with a planned stop at the Elite Cafe in Waco.
if you’ve never had their Shiner-Bock-battered onion rings, you live a sad and colorless life, and are doomed to wander the face of the Earth having never tasted bliss. their chicken-fried steak is one of the top five i’ve ever had. i would’ve loved to have stopped there on the way home as well, but it was late and we were still very well-fed from supper (we’ll get to that toward the end of the sunday report.)

the trip went by pretty quickly and then we were downtown trying to find parking/unload the car closer to the hotel than somewhere in Ft. Worth (asshole attendant wouldn’t let us pull in, check in, offload and then i’d take the stuff to the room and dorris would go find parking – oh no, that would have approached convenient.) we eventually ended up pulling up to the curb in a no-parking, no-standing zone, dorris went in, checked in and grabbed a bellman while i waited outside ready to try and block any attempt to tow our car… i needn’t have worried.

so eventually, courtesy of a very helpful bellman, we got up to our room to find my keycard didn’t work – par for the course. he let me in and dorris picked up keycards that did work on her way up from parking the car under the Sheraton’s south tower. (finding a spot in the Sheraton parking in itself was a minor miracle.)
i honestly thought they’d put us in the wrong room. it was part of one of the suites (the Presidential i think), meant to serve as the ‘bedroom’. metric fucktons of floor space, two queen-size beds that were Very Comfortable, desk, chairs, moderately large TV, vast expanse of window with a lovely view of downtown Dallas (we could see the old Mobil Oil Pegasus).

linked up with my dear sister Wendini, went and tried to find George, who had my badge, and ended up in the bar, talking with old convention friends.

back in the hotel room – still open for business, just needed some coffee with my alcohol, and a damn sight more affordable than any thing in the bar.

proof that cons are good for the creativity:
“What do you think of Lady Gaga?”
“I like her message, I like her music, it’s pleasant, but it doesn’t stick in my mind,” says I. “But I’m really into Bavarian Lizard Death Metal right now and it’s kind of an all-consuming thing.”
So, Bavarian Lizard Death Metal band – Grosse Gilameister – their first album, “Pretzels & Blood Jam” – breakout track, an 18 minute cover of “Walking on Sunshine”.
when you think of Grosse Gilameister’s style in videos, think women from a concentration camp that had a pasta bar, lots of trippy “Jim Morrison/Lizard King” soft focus visuals, lederhosen, red filters, lots of lizard tongues going in odd places. 

got a call from Mark Bryant, old college friend, and he and his wife came up late that night, got a hotel room and stayed around for saturday’s festivities… but dorris and i crashed about midnight as we were your bonafide tired puppies.

oh, and a final note on the hotel – not wanting you to think it was all Shangri-La and blow-jobs, i’ve seen gas station restrooms that stocked better toilet paper. not particularly rough, just stiff and not too absorbent… made blowing one’s nose, among other things, somewhat unpleasant.

Listening to: “Old Baghdad” – Jerry Goldsmith – ‘The 13th Warrior’ Score
Mood: barely awake, slurping down coffee, doctor’s appt. at 10

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