Thursday, August 10, 2006

Convention rejection.

The comic convention was this past Sunday, and for the first time in nine years of attending them, a girl was going to come along with. Unfortunately, like most girls I make plans with, she decided to bail on me. So, same as last year and the year before, the only person who came along was Deanry.

I’d call it a sausage-fest, but two wangs hardly constitute a fest.

I remember back in the day, I could get four or five guys to come along with me. We’d all pile in the van and jam to Jimmy Eat World all the way to Rosemont. All day, we’d raid booths for free stuff, take pictures with models, and make fun of the weirdos in tights and that midget who played R2-D2.

Nowadays all the people I know are always too poor or too cool to go. Deanry’s the only one who’ll ever come with me, but I’m pretty sure it’s only because I always pay for his ticket as a birthday gift. This year he even took off early to go to Lollapalooza. At this rate, I have a feeling I’ll be attending next year’s con all by myself.

There’s nothing sadder than a geek that no one wants to be geeky with.