Super-smart of course... and there is no way you can be super-smart and only average rich, unless you were the laziest MO-FO in the entire world. Or the biggest spender in the world.
I'd wake up sometime between ten and eleven in the morning (because my first present was to sleep in). To give me this gift you have to come in around seven AM and take Catori downstairs to play quietly so he doesn't wake me up.
I'd get up, shower, dress and come down stairs to find every dish in the house washed as my second birthday gift. (Just the dishes, leave the rest for me to do, even the toilets. I like doing bathrooms the best because they get so white and shinny the effort is so much more worth it.)
For my third gift - me, the baby, and who ever was free that day, would all go into town to the travel agency. We'd each get one of those free brosures of vacation packages and then find a resturant somewhere in town. While having lunch (dutch treat of course, cause the lunch isn't the gift), we would look through them and talk about our dream vacations and what we'd be doing if we were there at that moment. (Conversation of my choice over lunch is the gift.)
Then we'd go up to JC Penny's or TJ Max and I'd get to pick out one outfit of my choice FOR THEM to try on. And they'd have to do it. (No purchase nessasry.)
At that point we'd go pick up Jan from school and the whole lot of us would go to Rumney to play on the playground of my childhood. We'd run around, swing, climb, balance beam, and of couse we'd share the little memories we have of that place, if we have them.
Finally we would go over to my Grams house and my closest freinds and family would all be there. We'd sit around the table and eat a true, one hundred percent, home cooked meal just like Gram used to make when we all lived there. (I don't even mind cooking it, but I'd rather not work on my birthday.) And we talk about absoutly nothing, just chatting away the evening like when I was nine-years-old. (Birthday dinner would be chipped beef gravey on toast, brussell sprouts, and Grams lumpy mashed potatoes.)
That would be my perfect birthday.
Day one and I’ve already made a fool out of myself. Instead of starting there let’s go back to the beginning. I got up before any of the others in my room (they slept in till noon), put on my first costume and headed out. Almost no one was in costume, but those who were – WOW!! I got my picture taken and took some but my batteries died before the first hour and I forgot to bring extra. But it was a blast, I saw six other women with the same costume as me. I went to a couple of writing seminars and got some very brilliant advice and information from the writers there. I gave out four autographed copies of my first book, one of them went to Brent Spinner, I’m not kidding, he even said congratulations. I went to see the Phelps twins presentation and after I went up to meet them. This is where I started this post. And I don’t know what the hell came over me. For-goodness-sakes; I was just joking around with Brent Spinner, I was talking hair with Morena Baccarn, I shook the hand of a former Doctor Who companion. I chatted with another actor from Star Trek and Boston Legal… Seriously I must have stumbled over a stupid stick or something on my way over to the twins table. I shook their hands: Oliver’s were warm and soft, James’ were ice cold and very soft. I had my words planned out perfectly, my handshake was firm but friendly, I opened my mouth and giggled. WTF!!! I wanted to die on the spot. So I tried again: opened my mouth and said, “You look better with red hair.” Ok, now I really wanted to kill myself. What happened to the amazing carefree statements I had planned the night before? What happened to all the things I was going to say that would make them think I was cool. I walked away as fast as I could, got two hotels over and decided I was being even more of a psycho fan by not apologizing. I walked all the way back, headed straight for them and spent the next twenty minutes shooting the shit with their assistant and pretending these amazing men were not two feet away from me. If I can get the nerve up, I’m going to go back and finally ask them what I wanted to ask in the first place.
Speaking of celebrities, the one person I wanted to meet, the deciding factor in me coming to DragonCon, Jewel Staite, is charging $30.00 just to come up and talk to her. But she is still my favorite person in the biz, my sixth favorite person in the world, and I will not let a little thing like her trying to pay her bills stop me from admiring her. I’ll just have to admire her from a distance.
Day Two. Let’s see, get six hours of sleep or get three hours and be in the parade. Guess what I did. When I finally woke up I had missed three of the five writing seminars I had planned to attend. Determined to get some use out of my Corina Mew Mew costume, I put it on – it was two sizes too big. My guarder was so big that it kept falling off and the arm cuffs kept slipping down to my elbows. All of these were skin tight when I made them. I guess all the running around made me lose weight. This convention takes up five hotels it’s so big. The un-official count of attendants is 65,000 people. I say un-official because the fire warden (or something like that) limited DragonCon to only 35,000 people. There are almost three hundred celebrities (or so I’ve been told) however, I’ve only seen about two dozen. And the only time I got to talk to them was at the walk of fame. I came here expecting to be able to hang out with famous people just as if they were like everyone else, nope, they don’t even walk the same halls as us poor people. Everyone says that actors are just like us and they want to be treated like normal people – that is bullshit. If that were true, they’d been in the bar last night chilling, or they’d be in the room parties floor seven is constantly having, or they’d strike up a conversation with us once in a while instead of always making us come to them. I am very pissed at the gall that these people have to say we want to be just like you and then turn around and act like their too precious to touch. Everyone else here is fine just to get five minutes and a handshake. Well I’m not!! I spent money on you that could have been spent on me and my kids. I spent time on you that could have been spent on me and my kids. I gave up comfort, dignity, sleep, and countless other things for you celebrities… I Demand Something Back. I want a friendship, or help getting into the business or for Christ sake at least a pen-pal. And before you even think it, YES, I would do it for you if the roles were reversed. Brent Spinner, you’re a sweet heart, and Morena Baccarn you are wonderful – This rant is not about you. But those who it is about (two he’s and a she): You give Hollywood a bad name.
Ok I’ve cooled off and come back to the table. So, as I’ve already said, I slept through most of the day, but I got up in time for the banquet dinner. Not enough time to do my hair, but it’s gorgeous all on its own, so no big deal there. I lost my glasses though. Dinner was salad, boiled chicken and carrots, and chocolate cake. Basically it sucked. Not worth the $50.00 I paid to get in. I kept my optimism; at least here I’d get to smooze with the high and mighty. NOT!!! They were at their own table on the stage, they gave speeches, some people preformed, still I have not gotten to just sit and talk about absolutely nothing with anyone I came here to meet. I am getting very let down. The writing seminars are amazing though. I’ve been to a lot so far and am going to many more before the weekend is over. Next year I am coming just for the writing seminars, and to dress up. Screw meeting the celebrities, it’s just a waste of time. I am kicking myself for missing this morning’s seminars; they would have been the most useful. Turning Rejection Into Sales, What Editors Want, and Goal Motivations and Conflict in Fiction.
Oh yea everyone loved the ball gown I made and they were all shocked to find out I made it myself. I just loved wearing it. They don’t even mind if we go barefoot (another thing I love about here), there are dozens of us doing it. Even cooler are that the shoe wearers are taking special care of us bare footers, warning us of things that might hurt us. One thing I learned here is that good looking men and overweight woman are ass holes. The bigger the woman or more attractive the man the worse they are. And don’t talk to anyone not in costume and not with another person in costume. Cause if there are no costumes in there circle of friends it means they think there’re better than you and you will be treated very badly. Watch out for the frat boys who sneak in just to see woman wearing almost nothing. They are horrible people and do really bad and nasty things.
I don’t really remember day three cause I was drinking at that point. I got more free drinks in those four days than I’ve gotten in the last four years. Day four was a blur of packing and some last minute writing seminars.
I’m trying, but am I trying to hard?
I’m trying not to fall asleep.
I’m trying not to cry.
I’m trying not to give up.
I’m trying not to give in.
I’m trying not to try.
I’m trying, but it’s not getting me anywhere.