My hotel bed sheets are all...leaky. Black and ishy.
Probably should back up and explain that.
I um...well, I don't know what I was expecting from the conference this year, but it wasn't even close to what I was expecting, whatever that was. I got here on Thursday afternoon and I spent about two hours at the conference. Then Friday I went to twenty minutes of one workshop.
And I was done.
I left the convention center and walked around downtown, got some lunch and drank some beers, then went back to my hotel and waited for my cousin to show up. When he did, we drove around through Balboa Park and then went to somewhere (La Mesa?).
And then these happened:
I only cried a *little* around hour forty-million of the needles.
Then we crashed at my cousin's house, played with his crazy fucking kitten, and then came back to the hotel where I got hit on by a bum, met Jessie James, learned how to open beer with a lighter, and fell asleep for houuuuuurs.
I never returned to the conference, not even for the parties. I only used one of the ten drink tickets they gave me. Hell, if I were expecting something from this trip, it's probably that I would have been hung over AT LEAST half of the time, but no. Not even once.
And now I'm packing all my shit up for the return trip to Minnesota, where I've never been so happy to live at the moment.
Did you know that chicks here in San Diego are, like, BLINDINGLY gorgeous? It's kinda painful to look at. And then it makes looking in mirrors just that much more awful.
Airplanes are my best friend now, apparently. If they kill me, I'm so going to unfriend them on facebook.