Now, before I get back into the Con report (The three previous parts have been backdated for you convenience)....I first envisioned this sequence back when I was working for TAG, doing tech support for...certain computer companies. The arc was originally harsher. But now I'm doing tech support in a much nicer, more stable environment so the venom is gone. And I'm glad; I'd hate for a two-year gig to make me bitter for life. Anyone can be sarcastic when they're on the end of the phone. But that's not Jeff, you know. And it's not me either.
I've also decided not to start reading new manga series until I finish more of the ones I've started. I mean, I start reading Hot Blooded Woman (violent gangster girl switches bodies with studious girl, misinterprets everything school related as gang battles) and then I start reading Change Guy (studious guy switches bodies with violent gangster guy, interprets all the gang battles as school-related) and I keep meaning to find volume 2 of some other body-switching series....and I can't keep it all straight. That's why I've switched to reading boys' series - they're easier to keep track of. In shoujo manga, I need to keep track of why this girl is angry at the other girl and who Kitano is...in boys' series, I need to know who the title character is (he's usually on the cover) and who he's punching. If a guy isn't being punched, I don't have to worry about keeping track of him. So no new series for me until I finish more of the old ones up. Need to get them finished up and shipped out of my headspace. Why don't I read more webcomics instead? Well, I think I will read more webcomics instead! (The answer "because webcomics are generally ongoing, thus exacerbating the original problem" will receive partial credit.
And the con report.
I never did mention our hotel. We stayed at Good Nite Inn - Sea World. We were right by some warehouses. Friday night, I heard some guy playing guitar. He was doing a decent Hendrix impression so I figured that it was a band practicing in the warehouses. Next night, we come home and the whole band is there. Turns out there's a bar about twenty yards from our room and they've left the (back?) door open so we can hear the blooze. Because the band thinks they rawk. There's also a 24-hour sex emporium about twenty yards in the other direction. But at least they were quiet. But we're not staying there again next year.
And a big hello to Tall Tails, Young American Comics, John Troutman, Kris Straub, who I enjoyed seeing but don't have any very specific stories about.
