So maybe it's kizmet (or too many ganja brownies), but I picked up the latest Stranger and right damn there on page eight is an ad for Seattle's annual Emerald City Comicon. And I'm actually 'free' those days and available to go to it. And I actually think I can swing the entry fee. What's weird is Jamie Bamber is going to be there. At first I just thought Bamber was way too toff and really bland. Then I decided bland was the new black and decided I liked him in BSG. He's like a really nice rug that pulls the whole room together.
But meet one of these TV celebs in person (along with 500 scary fans)?! Yikes! No way! I hate it when reality intrudes on fantasy and that's what television is. Damn good fantasy. This would be like finding out the way-too-cute guy in the corner office at work, the one you've lusted at from afar? Has halitosis, nose hairs long enough to braid or a weird sexual kink like dressing up in French maid outfits and being spanked. It would be like visiting your favorite aunt in California during a glorious California summer planned with horseback riding and trips to carnivals and accidentally walking in on her while she was changing her colostomy bag. Reality is a rude, earthy business and I try very hard to avoid trucking in it.
Baltar is right to prefer the Caprica 'in his head' to any of the 'real' versions. Who wants reality when you can have fantasy?
3 comments:
Tee hee! While I have little to no commentary on comics (in fact the only ones I have read in years are the Buffy ones which I stopped at the lesbian BS, and some trashy set called "Trouble" my friend talked me into)- I so understand on maintaining fantasy versus reality. I mean we have enough reality every day- why have your world rocked like that? Tell me how crushed my wee heart was when I met Vin Diesel and essentially was the same height (in 4 inch heels but those are my MODEST heels). And it isn't just him- how utterly tiny Hollywood is in general. Of course the women it goes without saying but the men... oh the tiny men. I hate weighing more than them! A final illustration on having the fantasy be better than the reality and it has nothing to do with La-La Land. I had a crush for a couple years on my friend this bar manager. Total Billy Idol thing going on (Billy is still hot to me, but I mean Billy like early 80s Billy) and he was just this notorious lothario. The younger the girl, the more incentive. But we were friends, and I was quite the tart myself so we'd trade stories until the ineveitable happened. He closed up the bar, brought some of those teeny little screw top wines he had left over from the stock, and we went to work. Well... let me tell you. Two years of fantasies I had of him shirtless were nothing compared to the saggy moobies and leathery smoker skin that awaited me. Of course I KNEW he was about 12 years older than me at the time. But my my my. Should kept that one a fantasy... So I respect your choice for retaining yours! Why not keep illusion where possible in this cold world?
'Saggy moobies'! (as in man boobs).
ROFLMAO !!!
Moooooobies! Never heard it before! Love it! Have them!
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