Why would you put a vendor who has successfully actually showed up and vended[1] at your convention two years in a row on the waiting list for vending space? I can't help but suspect this is the result of someone's bone-headed notion of fairness.

[1]As opposed to the phantom occupants of the several tables that stayed vacant at both of those years.

FIRST FAN: Yes, very passable, that--very passable bit of AppleDash.

SECOND FAN: Nothing like a good spot of Twilestia, eh, Josiah?

THIRD FAN: You’re right there, Obadiah.

FOURTH FAN: Who’d have thought four years ago we’d all be sitting here reading Twilestia fanfic, eh?

FIRST FAN: In those days, we were happy to have any story.

SECOND FAN: A short story.

FOURTH FAN: Without tension or character development.

THIRD FAN: Or plot.

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My cat's name was Ron--Ron Wheezy or Foul Ole Ron when he was a kitten, but just Ron when he got older (and once we found the right food for him). Ron turned seven sometime around the beginning of September, and I expected to have him in my life for another decade, at least.

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When I came home this afternoon, there was supposed to be a cat. He was supposed to trot to the door with his tail held high when he heard me come in, and he was supposed to meow at me at the top of his lungs, because that's the only way he knows how. Then he was supposed to run upstairs to the bed, jump up, and wait for me to take the hint and pet him while he rolled around and licked my arm.

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Estee has a wonderfully put-together period piece western which features and is called A Horse Called Sunbutt. theRedBrony made some references to Blazing Saddles in the comments on the latest chapter, and the Filker's Area of my brain was off to the races. Here's the result--the spoilers are very minor, but under

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Yep, I'm in Baltimore. Our hotel room overlooks the station for Rescue Company 1, so I'm currently being thankful that I'm able to sleep through the periodic sirens. On Saturday, I'll be taking a field trip to the Smithsonian's big facility at Dulles Airport, but other than that, I'll be lurking around, helping SPark (table 924!) out, and variously stalking the halls. If you see someone with two Celestia cutie mark pins on his shirt collar, that's almost certainly me.

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Let's all fly to Seattle!

I'll be at Everfree NW this weekend, like a couple thousand other folks. I will definitely be participating in the Iron Author competition, and may show up for some of the writing panels. I'll also probably be sticking my nose into the open Fanfiction Chillout room both nights. I will be at the con with SPark, who is vending, so I will be spending a certain amount of time in the dealer room.

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We're Mares of the Round Table,
We sing whene're we're able!
We do routines and chorus scenes with hoofwork impeccable!
We dine well when in Canterlot,
We eat yams and jam and bran a lot!

We're Mares of the Round Table,
Our show is formidable,
But our manes deform when we transform--Rarity was inconsolable.
They're rainbow-mad in Canterlot,
We run from the designers a loooooot!

'Gainst foes we're tough and able,
Quite indefatigable!

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Pinkie Pie, you are making me crazy
The future's meant to be hazy
So won't you please make sense?

Oh Pinkie Pie, your weird earth pony magic,
makes reality plastic,
in your candyfloss hooves.

You became a legend in academia
And now the thought of watching you
Makes me hurt in my head.

Oh Pinkie Pie, you are driving me frantic,
You push the limits of magic,
To get where you belong.

Will the whim that sent her prancing to my tree,
Kindly send her dancing away from me?

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Following Bradel's excellent and upstanding example, I will tonight attempt to drink and write. I am going into this with the sincere hope of writing more Snit (so that may be a plus or a minus to you), but we'll see what happens.

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