Amanda Fucking Palmer

A little bit ago (I think a week and a half ago?), I went to see Amanda Palmer and the Grand Theft Orchestra in concert. I went with a good friend (who was supposed to make a vlog that I promised to include here, but her camera derped. Oh, well. Her blog can be found here.) and ran into someone I haven't seen in a while, so that was all great. There was pre- and post-coffee, because I have a problem.

Amanda Palmer has been with me through the last two depressive spells of my life. Admittedly, this particular one is more hatred and anger and misery than sadness, but she has songs for that, too!

I got into her when the Dresden Dolls were still a thing the first time around (apparently they got back together two years ago? Why wasn't I aware of this?) when I crashed at my friend Mike's place for a couple of weeks while I escaped the grossness of Savannah. He was convinced I'd like them, so in between trips to Flying Biscuit and being anti-social at MonsterBash, I was exposed. I was in a studio. I had no where to escape to. I had no choice but to like them.

"Mike, give me back my goddamn hat. Oh, whatever. I have a book."

Mike and I have since swapped hairstyles.

 

(People keep telling me Savannah is a major tourist destination. I have no idea why. Is it that you people just LIKE parking lots, abandoned buildings, and a higher murder rate than NYC two years in a row within the past decade? What? Well, yes, I am bitter about having had to live there. Why do you ask?)

Anyway, Amanda Palmer is awesome. The show was just lovely, even though I kept bursting into tears- when she read the #inmyroom tweets and during "The Bed Song" and I was generally a mess.

She didn't play "In My Mind", even though I was really hoping she would, but I can forgive her for that. It has been the anthem of my quarter-life-crisis.

On Ghetto Horses

I am in the process of changing my name back to my maiden surname. This is apparently way more fucking complicated than I thought it would be.

I went to the social security office, but apparently they don't consider temporary (paper) ID's valid. Even though there is no mention of this on the website. But whatever.

So I attempt to go to the DMV, to yell at them (for the fourth time) for never getting my hard copy to me. Fortunately, throughout this ordeal, I have two friends (Chris and Andrew) to keep me company via texting.

Well, the bus was five minutes early, so I was just in time to see it drive past my stop from across the street. I was forced to wait another forty minutes for the next one. That should have been my first clue to just go home.

Then, the bus, which was different and separate from the first bus, that was supposed to take me to the DMV didn't. Google maps is a LIAR. Instead, I was taken on a very exciting tour of the Atlanta super ghetto! I spent an hour and a half attempting to find a window or door that wasn't barred, smashed, boarded up, or some combination thereof. I was disappointed.

There was also a terrifying stint where the driver stopped, opened the doors, and left the bus for about five minutes. We were parked across the street from an abandoned soul food restaurant with a hand-painted plywood sign. I suppose this is better than the cardboard and Sharpie combination outside a... "cafe"(?) that seemed to be run out of someone's house about twenty minutes behind us.

Chris- "Don't you dare leave that bus."
Me- "SO NOT EVEN AN ISSUE. TRUST ME."

Most wonderful, though, was the real, live horse in someone's yard! It looked healthy and average. It was just chilling. In someone's yard. In the middle of the Atlanta ghetto. I seriously considered stealing it and riding it home.

Andrew- "Just remember to return it when you're done. It probably has more power than the bus you're on."
Me- "You take all the fun out of everything."

To add insult to injury (well, theoretical injury, since I was fairly certain I was going to be shanked at any given moment), about ten minutes before we finally got to a train station, we passed the DMV.

There were no survivors.

P.S. I finally made it to the DMV the day after this happened.

DRAGON CON

Well, firstly and most importantly, I was only actually costumed on Friday. I made a half-hearted effort on Monday, but mostly I just wore street clothes.

I AM PRETTYFUL

Notice the wire elf ears! Notice them now, for you will never see them again! I managed to keep track of them all day, until about fifteen minutes before I went home. Then they were lost, never to be seen again. I had assumed they were in my bag, but I was mistaken. Infinite sadness. At least I have a picture of them?

Also, I ran into Garrett Wang a grand total of three separate times in three separate locations. I have no idea how Life managed this, except that Life has an absurdist sense of humor.

I took some photos of panels, but they are mostly all spectacularly crappy. Maybe I should invest in an actual camera, rather than just using my phone... Anyway, I went to some awesome (and a couple of not-so-awesome) panels. Richard Dean Anderson, some people from True Blood (my mother is obsessed with that show. I blame Twilight.), Jonathan Frakes and Michael Dorn, Patricia Quinn (who was delightfully smashed for her panel), Juliet Landau, James Marsters, and several discussion-based panels.

 

MIchael Dorn showed up on time for his panel. He made some disparaging comments about Frakes and his ability to tell time, when lo and behold! Someone jumped up from the back and started asking personal, embarrassing, and inappropriate questions! He would not be silenced! He demanded detailed answers! He was Jonathan Frakes!

And then they ignored all legitimate questions and just started singing through their favorite musicals together. It was fairly wonderful.

The last night, kilt blowing happened! Don't know what that is? Well, you take a kilt. Specifically, a man wearing a kilt. And then you get a leaf blower...

Pretty much the most SFW photo I took

There was also a surprise, actual, wedding at the end. Yay, Dragon Con, where that is completely normal.

Every Con, I allow myself one splurge. Two years it has been corsets, last year it was a dress, and this year was a KILT.

At some point, I will enlist a photographer friend to do a mini-shoot of the kilt, because it is AWESOME.

And then I went home and slept for two days straight.