So, if you’re stuck in a one year infinite loop that starts Dec 6, 2010, you can literally relive all the old posts and everything that happened when they happened. If you’re not, you can still look through the archives.

1 year and 10s of readers later, I’m still perplexed and/or disappointed by people’s Google searches. People really want to read about cakes that look like dogs. I should just keep writing about this, watch the hits roll in, and retire off of that sweet, sweet cake-dog blog monetization.

In all seriousness though, thanks to everyone who actually stops by from time to time. It’s been fun to have a few people here and there appreciate a Guns N’ Roses crossword puzzle or the songs that our dog writes.

Her: I miss Stacey.
Him: Uh huh. What?
Her: Stacey Kane. I miss his catchphrases. I miss his commentary.
Him: Stacey King?
Her: I miss the Mouse Sauce.
Him: You mean “Mouse in the House” and “Gimme some hot sauce?”
Her: Uh huh. What?

mmm...mouse sauce.

So this really happened.

Sorry, that was below the utility belt. When one first encounters Dragon Con as a non-believer, it’s difficult not to crack wise at the expense of the nerds. And they are all around you with four hotels full of panels, autograph sessions, costume contests, and most importantly, photo opportunities with other nerds. The official costume contests are good fun, but the essence of the convention is the constant contest for the prize of nerd respect.

Costumed nerds wander the four host hotels, soaking in admiration, through a knowing nod, an “oh, you’re that guy/girl/thing”, an “OH! You’re that guy/girl/thing!!!”, or a photo request. Costumes are either deadly accurate (the result of spending half of one’s net worth on probably the actual film’s wardrobe department), homemade in a seriously-you-made-that? sort of way, intentionally terrible (think trash bag Batman), or a sexy version of a regular character (purely subjective especially considering the previously mentioned BMI, but for example, sexy Iron Girl, Robin with cleavage, sexy Darth Vaderette).

Walking about without costume, I worried about how any nerd interaction would play out. If it was so easy for thoughts such as, “I wish we were on the Ice Planet Hoth so that you’d cover up,” to enter the mind, would it be just as easy for the nerds to sense my mind’s rolling eyes, not like me, and then let me know about it? Suddenly I was preparing comebacks for a verbal war that didn’t exist. What am I dressed as? “Someone who doesn’t live in his Mom’s basement,” I’d reply if it came to that. But it didn’t. Everyone was really nice.

Nerds never turn down a photo request. Most of Dragon Con is spent trying to get your picture taken with that guy/girl/thing, and they want to be the guy/girl/thing with whom you want to take a picture. They understand each other, obviously, and why another nerd would want a picture with whomever they’re dressed as, but they’re just as accommodating of plainclothes Con attendees, those most likely to be non-nerd outsiders. Or is there such a thing?

Maybe everyone who is there is at least a little bit nerd. Why else would you be there? If you went to the trouble to secure a hotel room (the other half of one’s net worth during this particular weekend) and/or purchased a day pass just to get drunk and make fun of costumed nerds, maybe you are the loser at this convention.

Or maybe this is a place outside of reality, where for one weekend the rules of civilized life don’t apply. Sometimes nerd women grow up to be hot, and in no other time and place would a man who had earlier that day argued in favor of keeping the red underwear outside of Superman’s blue pants be able to stare at an attractive woman, walk straight up to her, take her picture without saying a word, and remain unslapped. This is a place where people go to a Harry Potter prom, which is just like your prom was, except it’s much worse at sports and probably has fewer assholes.

Or maybe it’s just the perfect lesson in not caring what other people do, so long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else. This came to mind when I met Batman. I thanked him for everything he’s done over the years and let him know I’m a big fan of his work. He said, “Maybe it’s time you suited up.” I said, “Shouldn’t you use a more gravelly voice?” He said, “I don’t really do the voice.” I said, “Oh, that’s such a disappointment because the costume is dead on…it would be perfect if you did the voice.” And he said, “I get that a lot.” And I said, “I probably won’t be suiting up, but I wouldn’t ever tell you to stop.”

Abercrombie and Fitch, purveyor of overpriced clothes for tools, has turned on The Situation, offering him and other Jersey Shore cast members “substantial” dollars to wear overpriced clothes for tools from any other retailer. A&F’s press release, which has apparently never seen its own website or any of its own ads, expressed concern that his “association with our brand could cause significant damage to our image.” You see, they’re worried you might see The Situation wearing Abercrombie apparel and mistakenly think that Abercrombie is about baring one’s abs and having sex.

Ok, they’re not actually worried about that. They’re just trying to drum up some free publicity, and that by itself is not a problem. What is just stupid – stupid regardless of results, stupid in a ‘looking yourself in the mirror and having to admit that you’ve abandoned that last trace of dignity’ (this also describes the experience of wearing clothes from A&F) – is that they are attacking their target market, a terrible target market that they share responsibility for creating. I don’t care about The Situation, so I don’t watch his show. I care about Abercrombie and Fitch only to the extent that I make sure to never step foot into their stores, or wear any of their ugly self-promoting clothes, and immediately end any friendship with anyone who does. I care a lot that I have to hear about stupid shit like this. This was breaking news on CNBC.

You will never see Kentucky Fried Chicken tell fat people to stop eating their buckets of chicken.

These 3 did not eat at KFC.

After failing to reach agreement on a new collective bargaining agreement, NBA TV today locked out the Hardwood Classics player’s association. Tonight’s contest between the 1988 Boston Celtics and Atlanta Hawks was the first casualty of the labor impasse. Or my cable provider sucks.