Head above parapet moves mouth, film at 11.

[invisible_lift]

I'm, ah, not dead?

So I had a really awesome plan with the redismycolour thing. I was going to do them every day and use it as an excuse to be In The Chair as a writer, blah, blah, blah because this year I am writing a book and wanted to come in with a bit of play.

And then a handful of really excellent Actual Work landed on me, and, um. Yeah. So. The so-called Other Writing is going pretty well. My Respectable Alter Ego had an article in Crossed Genres this month about fanfiction as folklore, which I'm proud of.

I miss rolling around in fandom as much as I'd like. Grr. Argh. How is it already nearly March?

That being said, my Respectable Alter Ego will be at Gallifrey One this week! Panelizing at 11 AM on Saturday. About Torchwood. So, uh, that's a pretty heavy dose of fandom, right?

Of course, thinking, "Hey! Con!" reminded me that I still haven't posted hilarious pictures of myself from Dragon*Con. Of which I've got two.



First up, me looking my usual suave geektacular self on the TARDIS. Which I took to and from Atlanta, obviously. I would never, say, go Greyhound and wind up on some hilarious 26 hour trek that left me smelling like...well, like I'd survived a 26 hour long Greyhound fiasco.



Second, me looking exceptionally compassionate. And more than usually buxom. And kind of like somebody's mom. It just seems unfair that there are so many women dressing up as Ianto, and Gwen gets no love from the guys, you know? I love Gwen. She's a freaking badass. I am...somewhat less badass. But I have fake foam boobs. And everybody got to squeeze them. Because I have no shame.



One of the funniest moments of the con, incidentally, was having to use the gents in that.



And now, to slink away in shame. To my bed. Where if I get lonely I suppose I can find the foam toys I used to make my boobs and give them a little grope for old time's sake.