WUNDERBAR!

(Please excuse some formatting issues - Blogger kinda blows).

As you may or may not have guessed, I'm a fan of something called comic books. Every February in San Francisco, Comic-Con International sets up an event called WonderCon. Imagine the San Diego convention but about a fifth the size. Coincidently, my older sister moved to San Francisco two years ago. Long story short, my parents and I packed our bags and traveled to the great white north.

Thursday – February 21^st

My family and I got picked up from our house by a shuttle surface at around 4:00 PM. The driver is delightfully ethnic, Turkish to be exact. I only understand half of his words but that's enough to put a grin on my face. While passing Thurgood Marshall Middle School, the driver points out that Thurgood is the English spelling of a common Turkish name. I take his word for it. Upon being dropped off at the airport, I ask my mom to remind me to make more Turkish friends.

The airport was fairly uneventful, as they usually are. A woman waiting for the same flight has a small yappy dog. It would have been adorable if I didn’t think it was a child at first. The plane ride was slightly delayed due to the weather in San Francisco. My mom was upset that I didn't hold her hand during take-off and landing. But that's what she gets for dancing in her seat.

The man who drove us to our hotel was equally ethnic but not as funny. He seemed like some cross between Japanese and Italian; at least based on mannerisms and accent. We got dropped off at the hotel at around 9:00 or so. To get to the room we have to take two elevators and navigate a Thesian labyrinth. But at least the TV is a high-def flat screen. My dad and I watch Adult Swim for a while and the family goes to bed. Well that was the plan…

Friday – February 22^nd

"It’s like there’s a party in my mouth and I’m going to murder my family. I’m currently holing myself in the hotel bathroom because my father’s snoring resembles a jet engine with some loose parts. I brought a portable CD-player and headphones for just such an emergency; but I have to turn the volume up so loud to drown out my father that it completely defeats the purpose. Note to self (and all of you): NOTHING is relaxing past 100 decibels, not even Stars. Another problem is my mother, whom is currently serving as the buffer between myself and blind, sleep-deprived patricide. Like most women of parental age, my mother wears a nightgown. The catch here is that it tends to ride up or ride down in all the wrong places. So now I’m limited as to wear I can rest my head. I can still hear him snoring in here as well as I could back in the main room. Jesus motherfuck this is insane. To calm me down, here are some other things that piss me off:

1. Epic chanty move trailer music - Wagner and Orff are dead, and your Casio keyboard and Latin choir aren't going to change that. The next time I hear "O Fortuna" outside of Carmina Burana, I will murder the closest person to me regardless of friendship or affiliation.

2. Techno remixes - If you really need me to explain why, try swallowing some drain cleaner.

3. Jacques-Louis David and Neo-Classicism - Yeah it's impressive. But it's also boring as all hell.

4. Acoustic guitar singer/songwriters - No real explanation.

The motherfucker is still snoring!

5. People who laugh because something is "omg so random!" - This my friends is the reason we haven't heard a new joke in years. You all have my orders to shoot on sight. How will comedy advance if comedy writers can make us all laugh by depecting a rabbit being kicked in the head by bar of soap trained in the art of nin-jitsu. That's not particularly random but I'm tired and pissed so fuck you (except Euhana).

6. Heroes (TV Show) - Great idea that got fucked over by audience pressures. Now it's just stalling until it can find a plot twist that works.

7. Fuckers who ask "What gives us the right?" - We did! Next question.

8. Knowing that no one will read this. - Seriously. Fuck y'all (again except Euhana).

With that my fine ladies and gents, I bid you goodnight. I'm going to do some reading until I pass out. night y'all. And may the lord smile."

My father was able to redeem himself in the morning by referring to himself as a "stupid dildo". I forgot why he said it. He and I go to the convention center and get our badges/tickets then wander around before it opens. We head to a shopping center nearby where there is an entire room devoted to claw prize games.

Right next to the convention center is a toy store that sells luchador masks. I am certain that I will be back. At 11:30 AM my dad and I head back to the convention center. I can't get the Nutcracker Suite out of my head.

So now begins the convention itself, the reason I set foot in this city in the first place. Attendees of the annual San Diego conventions would feel right at home. The main floor consists almost entirely of useless overpriced bric-a-brac. It’s going to be a great weekend. As is the norm, the comic books are condemned to the time out corner so the more mainstream entertainment can take center stage. This unfortunately put me on the fringe for most of the convention. This means that I had to constantly rub elbows with forty year old men whom had just purchased illustrations of Japanese schoolgirls being penetrated by not one, not two, but eight or more extra terrestrial phalluses. All in day’s work.

At around 2:00 I return to the hotel to drop off all the stuff I wasted my money on. I realize that San Francisco smells like sewage and marijuana. I return again at 5:00 because I’m done for the day. At around 7:00 my sister shows up and we spend the next hour trying to decide what to do for dinner. We eventually decide – wait a minute this is boring. That night the saga continues. My dad snores like crazy, but for some reason I was able to sleep with little trouble.

Saturday – February 23^rd

That’s it. I decide to get a luchador mask. My mom agrees to come with me. To pump myself up I put a CD containing T.I.’s “Hurt” into the hotel room CD player. My mom danced to it. Mother and son together at last. I end up getting two masks; one for each of my lucha libre personas Senor Bueno and Viejo Halcon. I go to the convention again where more of the same happens. I get a birthday present for a friend of mine and that’s pretty much the highlight of the day. More dinner with my sister and parents, this time at my sister’s pizzeria on Haight Street. My sister has dreads, what a no good bitch. My parents and I take a taxi back to the hotel. The driver is not ethnic in the slightest. Again my father snores like a jet engine. I return to the bathroom to write something far too existential to share.

Sunday – February 24^th

This is about the point where I kinda stopped writing stuff down. I spend only an hour or so at the convention. It’s the last day and I’m tired of it. I finish my business and return to the hotel. My family watches the Oscars and we go to bed. Seriously. That was it. Jesus Christ my life is boring.

Monday – February 25^th

Taxi – Airport – Waiting – Airplane – Window seat - Airport – Baggage claim – Shuttle – Ambiguously ethnic driver - Home.

And that’s all she (I) wrote.