"Don't you want to ask me about my tentacles?"
"Do I have to?"
BOBW 17: It's kind of hard to remember everything that happened, especially as I've written it down and thrown it away so many times. I was going to try and not offend anyone, but screw that. Even when I try I do anyways, so why bother. Tact is just not saying true stuff, and I wouldn't want you to think my peevish is soley down to mood swings. Okay, Friday. Dragged my overnight baggie to work and it was work, work, work and I discovered this sudden rush is because the website is being sued for not posting information promptly enough, and guess where that buck is going to stop. Damn my wanting to celebrate Xmas with my family. Time to brush off that CV again, I guess.
Armed with this news it was off to the con and I really wasn't in the mood. It wasn't the fact that it had turned from a Stargate con into a Farscape con, I actually preferred it that way, I just wish the FAM had managed to show up because those guys know how to party. I just wasn't in the mood but I couldn't flush that amount of money down the toilet, and you never know, I could have a good time afterall.
So I start off by getting drunk and wailing to anyone who'll listen about my job woes. Lani studiously avoids me the rest of the con, and who can blame him? Happily for me the gang's all here and I soon feel better, and I meet some people from my list, which was cool, too. Highlight of the evening was reminding David Franklin of his page three pin up boy past. Much blushing and offering of cash incentives not to dig up any more dirt. David studiously avoids me for the rest of the con, too, but this time it was worth it (snigger). The party winds up in the Xu bar with Lani in tow. The barkeep plies me with free liquor and I can't remember much else but Lani ain't making eye contact anymore. Oh dear. Still, as much as the Scape boys call me a tramp, in jest, because I was still in flirt mode on Saturday morning, I sure ain't as skanky as some people I could mention and I think I was just being drunk (un)funny on Friday anyways. I do remember Tibor sharing his wonderful photos of previous cons though. The bastard has lost weight and he looks good, wheras my two weeks of diet amnesty has ended in disaster - I'm bigger than ever. All those salads and hard walking for nowt. Wail.
Wouldn't be so bad if the actors hadn't been so busy ignoring anyone larger than a size six the whole time. I spent the entire con feeling like one of the ugly stepsisters, but at least I know I'm not the only one who felt spurned. Much Jane Austen styled hissiness passed in whispers up at our wallflower end of the con. And hey, I'm going to totally own my shrewishness. It's a totally honest and natural reaction to having to watch Hugh Hefner and his barely clad bunnies cavort all weekend - and he doesn't understand where the rumours come from. Sheesh. Yeah, I know, don't say anything bad or he'll never talk to you again, well, like that'd make any difference. I'm just saying sleazy public displays do not quash rumours of sleazy con behaviour - they beget them. There's innocent flirty fun and then there's, well, we were at the Cross, I guess. How appropriate. Meow. Hiss. Saucer of milk.
"I think I'll just get my penis pierced." - CC
Okay, now that I've vented my inner bitch, on with the fun. Saturday morning found me still chirpy and flirty, if woefully hungover (hey, Lani didn't even get out of bed for the photos). I get my photos done but I look rather startled and uncomfortable in them, maybe because I've been made to feel so uncomfortable in my own skin, as if the reflection in the hotel mirror wasn't bad enough. Not even my beloved buddha t-shirt can soothe my mood. At least I'm happy to have the Scape boys there, unlike a lot of American Danny fans who spent a good deal of the con crying into their pillows, apparently. Understandable, I guess. My own mood dips as I go from puffy and grumpy to crampy as well. Oh joy. What timing. Fortunately all the walking up and down dale I've been doing was good for one thing - keeping the cramps down to a suffer in silence level rather than my usual rolling around on the floor screaming business.
So we get David regalling us with the story of how he became an actor. Much sniggering from the peanut gallery at references to the Restless Years, etc. The Yanks sit in a stunned silence - they'll be doing this for most of the con, except when we all start in on the Yank sledging - it's a sport (and it's fun), and then they're all sitting there pursed of lip. Heh. Hey, it wasn't me this time, they were all into it. The Scape boys have all had run ins with American Egos, and it makes for funny tales, especially in the acting business. You see, most American actors arrive like Caesars, complete with petal tossing retinue, and that just doesn't wash down here - we've got a 200 plus history of making fun of people who put on airs, especially if they're popmpous morons, which covers most of the American actors that work out here. Except Ben. Ben very quickly adapted to his environs and was praised highly for this. You see, in Australia, everyone is a grip, leading man or no, and you can either leave in a hissy fit or muck in and Ben mucked in, and more power to him.
Actually had a discussion with Jonathan about how Oz films were very much a cottage industry and how my friend spent US$200 on catering whereras I used to make sandwiches for about $40 or do a run to a local cafe and Jonathan agreed (much murmurings of Luxury!) that it was better than what he gets on a number of films and on some student films he's lucky if he gets a KFC voucher, and he doesn't much care for KFC (much pouting). And wouldn't you know it, Claudia Black was on sandwich duty for Anthony's film - QED. It's a lovely little film too, about the importance of gardens, and garden gnomes, featuring Gigi and Jonathan and it's really sweet and funny and not at all agonisingly artsy fartsy the way many shorts feel they must be. I loved it, absolutely adored it.
David also played his reel, so there was much sniggering over bad hair days immortalised, too. Ditto the costumes. And yes, that's him in the Toyota truck ad. Much comment on how Braca worked his way up the ranks and how he was buttmonkey to his various commanders.
Form fitting? You could tell I was circumcised." - DF
After that it was the Anthony and Jonathan show, which was a giggle, Anthony demonstrating how difficult it was to do anything heroic in his costume, relying on guys to hand him his sword, which was uber heavy apparently, etc and Jonathan called D'Argo a glorified glove puppet. More tales on the difficult make up and the lack of bedside manner from the local casualty as the actors keeled over - forced by the US tv season to film in our sweltering summer conditions in full latex. I always winced with pity whenever we had a super hot and steamy day.
Next up was Lani, discussing his role of Crais, with all the seriousness of a drama teacher (I think the dear boy was still a bit hung over). Before that we'd all trooped up to Oporto which collapsed into chaos under the number of orders and which wasn't too my friends' tastes afterall. Oh well.
After that it was Colin, hoping the SDJ campaign - out in force - could also become Preserve Major Davis as he didn't know if he was in season 7 or not. He talked about the Gatecon controversy, and some of his unhappy fan run-ins, but carried on carrying on in such a manner that I could entirely see where those rumours sprang from. I'm not saying whether they're true or not, I'm just saying I can see how people would feel the need to be bitchy, because I'm overwhelmed with sour grapes myself, and you know how I used to adore Colin. No longer, alas. Still, every con needs an actor behaving badly. It's tradition :D
After the autographs, over and done quickly because there were precious few photos on sale and I was broke anyway, we all dashed upstairs to watch Andromeda because the hotel now carried Fox8 - and how happy was I about that - we all watched Buffy at midnight because the cocktail party wrapped up early - a lamentable first! So we were happy with our Andromeda fix (I was really feeling the love for Tyr but that might have just been the Mersyndols talking) we reconvened down in the dungeony ballroom. In spite of being limited wardrobewise in what I could carry and fit into, not to mention my $96 skirt choosing that moment to fall to pieces (well beyond a quick patch job), I still managed to be dragged to a table of young gentlemen. It did my battered ego a world of good until I was told clearly I was there in a guy pal who's a girl capacity (insert scenes of things crashing and burning here) but at least I had the pleasure of their company, and some people, not feeling scorned by the guests, were impressed at my feat and I had fun. At least some gentlemen deign to talk to non skinny girls, if not to chat them up then at least because they're still bloody good value entertainment wise. My grandfather married my grandmother because she made him laugh. That ain't enough anymore, but for that night, I felt like a princess, so thankyou. Nothing I like better than excellent companionship and conversation for dinner.
Didn't dance much but that was as much the fault of the DJ as much as the cramps, as they couldn't play anything that wasn't a golden oldie when I was a nipper, much to everyone's bemusement. I was treated to the sight of Captain Crais doing the Nutbush, as if seeing guys from Highlander YMCA-ing wasn't traumatic enough, back at that con in Manchester way back when (heaps o'fun). I could say I spent the night chatting to Anthony Starke and I wouldn't be lying per se, only my Anthony works in retail. Never mind, he's still excellent company.
Back in bed before midnight again - and alone (what is with this con?) I toss and turn until the grey morning light breaks through my window. I should mention the view, as I actually got a view this time, directly across at the Opera House and Harbour Bridge. So it's come to this, a tourist in a town I used to work in. No nude frolics in the pool immediately below my window, alas. That would have almost made up for it, I reckon.
Nobody looks good with one testicle hanging out." - DF
Day Two. I start the morning in 'please just get me through this' mode but the mellow yellows kick in and I watch some telly before brekkie and then peruse the dealers room which is shockingly bare and thus I keep my purse in my pocket. Apparently they priced the smaller tables out of the market, which is a shame. More photos (because yesterday's were awful) and my one with the Scape boys is a hoot. Much fun is had and it turns out grand - I decide to get it signed even, at great expense. I confide to Anthony I was a Lost World fan, having heard he was in it. Ant decides he has to tell anybody who cares there's a fan in the room. Cringe. What part of guilty pleasure did he not get? Still, that's Anthony, large and loud, and I love him. I really do. Anthony decides to treat us to a few accoustic versions of his songs and they're really good. And yes, CDs were for sale in the lobby - grin. We also got the world premier of his film. Score.
David decided to prove how silly he was, or at least demonstrate his inability to spell (he couldn't even manage my name in the autograph queue) by spelling loser as looser when he gave his demonstration on how to be Braca, with JH in the audience as peanut gallery, and poor David was practically acted off the stage by the volunteers. Never work with fans or animals :D I was goaded into bringing up the page three boy thing again - but he winces so well - and he went on to tell us about great costume debacles, you know, bits hanging out, that sort of thing.Next up it was the Lani and Jonathan show, with Lani barely managing to get a word in edgewise again. This time they demonstrated how difficult it was to do ADR with scenes from the last episode. Spoiler city. Everyone was actually happy to leave Farscape hanging. It's a very Farscape thing to do.</p>
Lunch was meant to be a relaxed affair at Deli France but the wind had got up so much we were hanging onto our crockery for dear life. Still, they had those lil choclate croissants which I love. Reminds me of that time I was in Paris...(wank, wank, wank).
Nothing else, just the stockings." - CC
After lunch it was the Colin show and he was inviting all those red ball questions people want to ask but never do so he was asked about the Daniel/Michael thing (he said Michael felt unappreciated but now they've backed up a truckload of cash to his door he's feeling happier) and was Davis gay, which led to the disturbing fantasy of General Hammond in just sheer silk stockings and nothing else. I think I need that brain eraser now. I'd never really seen Davis/Hammond but obviously I'd been watching it wrong.
Then it was the auction and Darren's zat went for a nice price - I was so busy taking photos I forgot to bid, wail. The rest of the stuff I let go, though I was surprised on what the Americans did and didn't bid on. No real heavy spenders here, not like at the Highlander cons where the opening bid is usually $2,000. Yikes.
So it was autographs, a cup of tea and a nice lie down - I'd been warned not to fall asleep by friends who were afraid I'd do just that and I admit it was a close run thing, then the wrap party. Glad I'd packed up long sleeved top because somebody had brought the Melbourne weather with them and I froze. I kind of avoided the slash fans, as much as I enjoyed the company of most of them because I was still privately stewing. Most had said they knew of, or enjoyed my writing, and while I realise my fic is a take it or leave it affair and I've said I'd rather people said stuff to my face than behind my back, one of them made no secret of the fact she didn't like me, told me she hated my fic to my face and kept shooting daggered looks at me throughout the con. After she'd shot down my fic I saw myself scowling so furiously in the lift it made me laugh in spite of myself. It made me steer clear of the slash gals though, more than I meant to, though I tried to make it up to them, wandering across to say hi while she wasn't there (bitch).
The rest of the time I spent in the company of my friends, my wonderful, funny, entertaining, caring, ready with the choclate when I needed it most friends. We were being avoided like the plague, though, by actors we'd paid to see so there was some churlishness. We tried to rise above it but nothing could quite quell the feeling that the con was happening in another, cooler corner of the room. The boys weren't bothered, in fact they were bemused, (would have been a different story if it had been Gigi and Claudia) but as I said, there were some very Jane Austen like comments between my girlfriends and I. It's different when you're on the outside, looking in. Still, I had me mates and we had a grand time, much snacking, chatting, debating and photo taking. Next time I think I'll just hold a BBQ for my friends. It'll be cheaper and cheerier, I think. At least I didn't end up in the kitchen at this party, though it was a close run thing.
Monfday: staggered into work all the way from the con, luggage in tow, to sit muddled and unable to answer any queries because they were all out of my field. Gave up and went home early to watch Buffy, sleep, watch Roswell and sleep some more. Had a very vivid dream about Roswell n all. Saw three ads for without a Trace which cheered me up greatly.
Tuesday: decided to stay home and sleep as I was as useless as tits on a bull anyways. I did sleep, lots. Meant to spend the afternoon either in at work, writing or both but I just rolled over and slept some more. I only got up late in the evening to be bit ti pieces by mozzies as I emptied my buckets in the garden. Watched my Scape boys (yay) and went back to sleep.