SDCC 2010: Imaginary twitterings
Twitter didn’t work for me so well on the show floor, and my phone wouldn’t take the strain anyways. So here’s the first half of my imagined tweets from the floor. The second half of this may or may not ever appear.
The triple chili-cheese at Tommy’s is unnecessary. Structural integrity starts low and slides from there.
This rental really is no damn good, even if it’s brand-new. Bottom-end is essential in city driving.
AGENTS OF ATLAS #2 is apparently impossible to find in this town.
Kearny Villa Drive is not the same as Kearny Mesa Road.
The sky outside is like the opening to NEUROMANCER, only much brighter.
I know times are tough, but a quarter to go take a leak? Isn’t that against the law? #neverbeentoeurope
This trolley is fuller than it will be on Saturday. #utterlyweird
The professional registration line actually gets worse every year. I’m beginning to suspect that some are fakes.
You could shoot the front of this line in the head and the news wouldn’t get to the tail for more than a week.
Meet under the GREEN HORNET banner? WHICH GREEN HORNET BANNER?
This phone holds a charge like my grandpa could hold a Budweiser.
Floor is busy like a Friday. I’m more than a little afraid. Hold me.
No, you couldn’t make me go in there, not even for a bag full of real money.
DC’s booth is actually less loud. I see that noise ordinance went through.
Dark Horse is giving out bags the color of hazmat suits.
I can’t ever recognize the SCOTT PILGRIM cosplayers.
And where is that pitch-perfect Superman I used to see? I miss that guy.
That’s just a bunch of molecules that kinda looks like a hot dog.
Okay, that golden throne is pretty cool.
This place has its own weather systems. Atlanta in May or Buffalo in February. Take your choice.
It really is a tote-bag economy at SDCC, isn’t it?
Never have people worked so hard for stuff so free.
Cosplayer incidents are down. Waiting in line in costume is apparently hardcore.
Artist’s Alley is mostly deserted. I realize it’s just Wed. but that makes my blood boil.
Oh hey, it’s inappropriate Golden Book guy. Apparently it just started as a joke.
I always felt bad for Fredo.
The Alan Spiegel Fine Arts table is always an island of sanity.
No, I don’t want any of that free stuff.
Yes, you really are very pretty.
No, I still don’t want any of that free stuff.
Everyone keeps asking what my plan is like I’m going up the Amazon. I’m relying on Shackleton-esque luck.
The center of the hall truly is the Heart of Darkness. Just brightly colored, lit and loud.
Oh, so I heard from my editor at REDACTED. So I guess he’ll be here tomorrow. Waiting on follow-on email.
I don’t like waiting. But I promise not to text him in a panic.
The inside of my head feels like a Gary Numan video directed by someone coming off a bender. Angular and muffled.
Hey there, bunch of people I only see on the internet.
It’s been pointed out that my nametag only has my first name on it and nothing else.
I feel as though I should become a recording artist and enter into dispute with my label. For five years.
Does your mother know you’re wearing that shirt?
I can tell I’ve had too much caffeine already.
Who typed out Carla Speed McNeill’s placard? Carla McHeill? Really?
And who designed Artist’s Alley? It’s all a buncha tiny cul-de-sacs. Nobody likes a cul-de-sac.
Tote bag failure in action #1. Seen a lot already re-tied into some other configuration.
I really wanna buy that, but I don’t know where I’d put it.
This room smells like someone murdered a perfume factory in it.
Can’t sleep. Reading THE GODFATHER instead.
Still can’t sleep. Stupid gargantuan Cokes.
Still not asleep even when roomie makes it back.
Pancakes! Still sleepy though.
Splurged for downtown parking and don’t think I regret it.
Already missing a panel I wanted to make. Oh well. Dude probably won’t die before the end of the show.
Oh, hey there’s Pat Mills right there at the booth.
Pat Mills is a surprisingly nice guy for someone who invented MARSHAL LAW.
Conundrum: Yanks love Brit TV above all else. The converse is also true. Who is right?
Never have I said “pardon me” so much in my life.
The giant Boba Fett figure display is pretty cool. Would be cooler if it was IG-88. Or Bossk.
Where is all the INCEPTION junk? It’s no MATRIX.
Whoever said booth babes don’t work is completely wrong.
Oh, okay, I’ll go, even though I don’t really play that game anymore.
And I promised not to do this, but I’ll text the editor anyways. Maybe he’s actually here.
Who doesn’t love a gnome warlock in S3 Gladiator gear? They’re so CUTE.
Oh hey. Editor’s here. Editor wants to talk.
Better yet, editor is going to buy the story. That was an awful long courtship.
Downstairs at The Century Guild, talking to Michael Zulli, Jeremy Bastian and Gail Potocki in turn.
Ms. Potocki is an amazingly talented painter and far more cordial in person than you’d expect.
Sometimes, the darker the subject the nicer the artist. Sometimes.
Going to The Field to celebrate selling a story for actual currency.
Ah, Strongbow. #strongbow
No, not going to any post-con functions. Going back to my room to read and to sleep, maybe in that order.