See Day 1 and Day 2 to understand the PURE UNMITIGATED HELL OF DAY THREE. But I got better.
I did not really sleep very much Thursday night, or should I say Friday morning? I ached like a mofo from Thursday’s approximate marathon of walking, and I don’t sleep well in hotels anyhow. When I “woke up” Friday morning, I was fairly sure I would have preferred death to nearly anything, including a front seat to the Joss panel. Why?
I have fibromyalgia. Without going into an unholy whingefest, I will explain what it is, briefly. Fibromyalgia (FMS) is a neuromuscular disorder. You normal folks go about your day, spend a lot of time walking, and feel tired & hurt. You’re familiar with the achy feeling that tends to go away by next day. For those with FMS, the central nervous system completely wigs out over normal wear and tear, so the peripheral nervous system says, “Dude, there was this thing, and she did all this walking, and it was like BOGUS, man!” and the central nervous system has something like a pain seizure and says “OH MY GOD OH MY GOD WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE!” Basically, the nervous system in a fibromyalgia sufferer is a drama queen. Our cerebral spinal fluid has more pain transmitters than normal people, and this cascade of ow occurs, stiffening the muscles and making us a giant walking cramp. It’s like having the flu plus being hit with a bat a lot. If you’ve lived through both, you know of what I speak.
I thought a hot shower and breakfast might help. It didn’t. Poor Sara (@radi8n) had had fricken’ knee surgery just weeks before and she was faster than me. I knew I wouldn’t be able to do anything else that weekend, as I was going to go into a massive bodywide flare (including neurological symptoms like extreme fatigue and being really stupid), so I told the girls I was gonna sit Friday out and try to sleep. I obtained an uber pain pill from the gods, broke it in half, and took it. I actually managed to sleep 3 hours. When I woke up, I felt less like dying and more like eating. So I ordered the most amazing carnitas I’d had in a long while up to that point:
Lumpen unappetizing wads of delicious fat.
THEY DELIVERED IT TO THE ROOM. THEY ARE GODS.
After the sleep and eating this, I was feeling kinda like people. I rubbed my legs for a long time, did some relaxation exercises, and called the boy I had been talking to incessantly on Twitter and the phone, @jamezsmith. He made me feel even more scrumdiddlybetter.
It was very important I GET better, because that night was the one and only Chuck Tweet Up at Bar Ninety. It was, in essence, against the law to miss this if you were a Chuck fan at SDCC on Twitter. I took my obligation to be happy and festive very, very seriously, and there was no panel important enough to interfere with meeting some folks I had been tweeting for an awfully long time. Chuck & Chuck fandom was the whole reason I was even at ComicCon, after all.
Once I was as pain-free as I was gonna get (knowing full well there would be gin where I was headed) and an emergency touch up of my nails, I was about ready to go. See, there’s this thing I always do when I pack. I remember everything. EVERYTHING. Except one very important stupid thing that ruins another major thing. This time, it was the pins for my curlers. I had trekked to the CVS with Sara, Jen (@hokie98jj) and Bailey (@littlechuckfan) before, and gotten something I thought might work. I was vehemently mistaken. I basically stood there holding curlers in my hair to no avail. So I had to go to the Chuck Tweet Up with broken ass hair. Lame.
I walked to the venue behind three Portuguese guys smoking what smelled like a combination of a candy store and a weenie roast. Thankfully I had already gorged myself. By the time I got to Bar Ninety, Wendy Farrington (@serendipityWAF) was already there, handing out We Heart Chuck hand sanitizer (desperately needed to fend off ConCrud!) and name tags. I got my VIP taggy tag and hooked up with roomies Sara, Bailey, and Jen.
Bailey had a big jar with a happy Ken Mar puppy sticker on it. Her intent was to collect donations from Chucksters for Yvonne Strahovski‘s favourite charity. Intent met! Sara suggested she go around the bar with me as an escort. As I had enjoyed the whole “money in jar from strangers” concept so much the night before, I was more than game. I put my donation in the jar, and then I was basically the voice over the music so Bailey could get her cash on. “ExcusememynameisKellieJaneandthisisLittleChuckFanandwearecollecting
donationsforYvonne’sfavouoritecharityKenMarRescureforDogswouldyou
liketodonate?” The very next question was usually “Yvonne’s favourite charity, huh?” followed by “Sure!” and then, to Bailey, “Are you THE @LittleChuckFan? May we get a photo with you?”
Bailey’s inimitable response was always “Sure, but you have to make a donation to save dogs!” Bailz RULEZ.
So we make a pass and then I bring her back to her mother to assure her I haven’t sold her to the highest well meaning bidder. In the meantime I got to meet roller derby diva @fearbee, my darling and amazing friend Megan (@memo07), the indisputable queen of Chi-town drinking, Sam (@tisisam) and Queen of Charger Fandom herself, Ivy (@yoitzivy). I also saw the wonderful Larry (@EVERY1TALKS) again, himself a We Heart Chucker. I met Philippa (@xenaclone) properly; you might know her as the English chick from the Chuck You Tuesday podcasts. Yes, she was dressed as Xena. I think I met several other people, including a guy called Devon (I remember because I called him Captain Awesome), but at that point I think Jessica (@jessicasisk) had already bought me two gin & tonics, and Michael (@prezofbuymoria) had arrived and got me one, too. This is me with my third gin and tonic, as captured by Rosie (@rosesyjuco):
Busted hair, flustered face, but damn, that drink looks GOOD!
A little unsteady, I retired to the safety of the VIP Harem Tent (this is how I remember it) which was filled with Sara, Jen, Bailey, Jessica, the amazingly suave Tess (@punkatess), cupcake-wielding Amanda (@amandammason…who actually took time on the way to SDCC to BAKE FREAKING CUPCAKES), the warm and beautiful Shar (@lightstarangel), and of course Wendy. We were joined by Prez Michael and his sister. Jess made sure we had a Bollywood dance party moment, Amanda made sure we had goodies, and Tess made sure the drinks kept coming by flirting with our waitress, Britney. Oh lord. Was it Britney? It was a B name. Anyhow, I think in a different time and place, Tess would have a cigar and a scotch and be draped with bitches. Instead, she had beers and us Chuck buddies. You get whatcha get.
Favourite quote of the part of the night where I remember quotes comes from Sara: “Check me out, Mother of the Year. Bailey, is that Mommy’s beer over there?”
We were then informed that Zac Levi might be stopping by. I knew Adam & Yvonne couldn’t make it, as they were still shooting (woo hoo Fraturday!), but Zac has been known to make appearances to fans if it’s even remotely possible. I went outside with adorable Megan, hunting cigarettes (gawd it’s such a bad habit!) and then, I saw him across the street.
Casually, I say, “Huh, it’s Zac.”
Wow, that was dumb of me. Cos people kinda went a little squeeriffic. Which is totally understandable. So what do I yell across the street before it gets totes out of hand? “Hey ZAC! Did you bring cigarettes?!” Zac is a known chain smoker.
Somebody elbowed me in the ribs and laughed. I think Megan then noticed a shorter figure at his side…Gomez! She said, “Oh my gaaahhhhd,” [Megan is from The South], “Girl, I would so have Josh Gomez’ chahld!”
So of course I yell, “Hey Gomez!” I point at Megan’s head. “Willing baby mama! Right here!” I think Megan hid behind me after that.
Then we noticed the uplifting, generous, and wonderful Mark Christopher Lawrence, Sarah Lancaster, Ryan McPartlin, Scott Krinsky and Vic Sahay. Everyone was kind of wondering what to do so I whispered to Megan “Dude, it’s ZAC. He’s gonna go straight for a mic. Hit the DJ booth.” She ran inside. I went inside also, but to the VIP booth to stay away from the craziness. You know me and crowds. Also? My drink and purse were in there.
At one point I remember looking up to see Bailey pulling a Superman. I poked Sara. “Uh, don’t look now, but your child is airborne.” “Oh my Lord,” Sara muttered, standing up to see what was going on. Tess had been taking Bailey around for a second, more effectual pass at the Ken Mar fundraising, so they were right about up front when the Chuck cast arrived. Zac had apparently grabbed Bailey and held her aloft, “Circle of Life” style, for all to see. Of course Bailey was in her adorable Orange Orange outfit, so it was like Chuck was holding up baby Sarah Walker in some sort of odd time travel episode of Star Trek.
Almost as soon as they showed up, the cast had to reluctantly leave to go do some industry stuffs. Michael hadn’t met anyone, so I had him and Megan follow me out as I can usually guess where folks will pop out backstage. I was wrong the first time. We came around the building and I actually ducked to avoid running into Zac. Mark saw me. “Miss KellieJane!” He gave me a big MCL® hug and we talked about his comedy show Sunday night. I then totally failed to introduce him to Megan or Michael as I am what is fondly referred to as a Clueless Asshat of a Drunk. The cast had to get to bookin’ anyhow.
Now that all was calm, it was time for some dancing and group hugging with the aforementioned girls and Carter (@wondroushippo). At some point it was just us girls and I snapped this picture of Megan. This is, oddly, the only photo I took all night:
This is all I took a photo of, people. You're welcome.
Finally, my dear friend Christi (@christikassity) was able to come. Now it was a party, except I was already really drunk, on my 7th G&T, I believe, and we were dancing. They played Bel Biv DeVoe. They played Rob Base. They played errthang. Myself, Jess, Wendy, Shar, Megan, and Christi were all getting down as only girls with drinks and 80s jams can, unsupervised by tut-tutting male types.
Eventually it was time to trudge drunkenly back home. Megan and I had taken off in search of cigarettes, and I think at some point earlier in the night, we bummed one from a super gay man and his friend. I recall zebra stripes. Now, she, Christi and I stumbled toward downtown amongst many other more drunk people asking random folks if they had smokes. We bumped into Tess and Amanda, who had left at some point to have fabulous photos taken of themselves.
And then we met the world’s nicest homeless man. “You ladies want cigarettes? I got several cigarettes for some lovely ladies.” He then dug around in his fanny pack for loose smokes. In retrospect, this was not even remotely sensible. I even remarked at the time that they may in fact be laced with PCP. Christi recently reminded me that I said to Megan, “Take a drag off it. If you don’t want to eat my intestines afterward, we’re good.” WOW. I am the walking picture of class.
After we realized we were not inhaling PCP, we felt it safe to go to our respective hotel rooms with our friends and families. Christi helped Megan and I negotiate with a wisp of a Russian man to PediCab our arses to our hotels. Megan and I got in back and enjoyed the soft and gentle breeze of pedicabbery whilst downtown San Diego drunkeness swarmed by. Megan got this amazing photo of our happiness:
Bitches be PediCabbing, yo!
It turns out, however, that even if you give the guy a ridiculous tip before hand, his scrawny legs won’t take you up 7th. Well, crap. I walked half the way back to the hotel anyhow. Megan texted me when I got there that she made it home safely. My roommies were actually waiting for me as they were still up, counting the moolah Bailey raised for Yvonne’s favourite charity. Chucksters donated nearly $300 that night! We were excited, and I was drunk, but it was time to go to bed, as we had the Chuck panel first thing in the morning. Like anybody was going to sleep.
Before I leave you with too precious of a sleepy scene, you have to know something I keep forgetting to mention. On the route to the convention center from the hotel, there is a Hustler store. The window has mannequins in lingerie and a display featuring handcuffs. It is a clearly a kinky adult store, and even Bailey could discern that when we were walking by the first time.
What I never understood is why Bailz insisted on stating, “That’s YOUR store, KellieJane!” in her darling Virginia accent each time we walked by. Hmmmm. Is it something I tweeted??
Princess of Swords 