
… and I thought this contract job was all boring and vanilla and shit.

… and I thought this contract job was all boring and vanilla and shit.

That time of the year has come and gone again. People stayed over at my house again. Another year has passed where my boy Evan has followed me to Turner Field, and inexplicably watched the Mets beat the Braves, in spite of their polar opposite records (the Mets suck). Another year that over 50,000 nerds descended on Atlanta, on the same weekend as 10,000 gay black men, and 60,000 college football enthusiasts, with there bound to be some overlap here and there. Another year, another Labor Day Weekend, and another Dragon-con.
The difference is that last year, I discovered the secret to enjoying Dragon-con, and I actually looked forward to applying such a theory to this year’s. That being said, another year has passed where I look back and estimate that I consumed somewhere around 23 or so beers during the weekend, another year where I took a lot of photographs, and another year that the overall conclusion is that it wasn’t a bad weekend.

I’m just sitting at Starbucks, killing time, while traffic dies down a bit, pondering on what six-pack of boozahol to take to Dragon-con, and what creative back roads route to take to avoid as much traffic as possible, to prevent me from even more white hairs sprouting on my head.
So in the meantime, have a picture of D-Pat getting emasculated waxed so he can accurately dress up as Cheetos during the weekend.

Some close friends and I make a trip up to filthy Baltimore, Maryland, to see some baseball at Camden Yards, ironically one of the better parks in the Majors. Naturally, with the legendary Pickle’s Pub across the street, this devolves into a day of excessive drinking, being obnoxious baseball fans, and getting really trashed. Good times were certainly had, looking back at things, though.