A Brief Guide to House-Hunting (Written By A Total Novice)

This upcoming school year's the first time in ever that I'm living at a place of my own, like not at my folks' (sup ladies) and not in downtown housing that's owned at least in part by the school.  That being said, we've got a month 'til school and still no place to live.  Yikes.  To better prevent you from being me (only room for one, son), here's a quick little grouping of pointers to

House-Hunting In Chicago And What I've Learned Thus Far

So yeah, some of these will be a little... specific.

Section 1: If You Don't Have "A Guy"

1. Get "A Guy"

Seriously.  I know, some (read: many of) realtors are annoying wannabe sharks with really shady practices (that's why we do research, sweetheart).  A similar rule applies for the relationship between writers and publishers: yes, many of the latter (well... the former too) suck donkey balls, but it's better to have one than to... well... not.  Otherwise, you're pretty much stuck trolling Craigslist, bringing me to my second pointer...

2. Yes, Craigslist Is Still Shady

I've had several realtors

"realtors"

bail on me - sometimes as the same day as the showing's I've set up, some have asked for some really unnecessary information (if anyone asks for your account number, run far and long in the exact opposite direction), others have straight-up lied about some pretty crucial information.

"Well um...  'Cozy' isn't exactly the word I'd use, but..."

Shady it may be, Craigslist also has a lot of great shit and I've known several people who've had success finding houses on there.  Just saying, there's no Scumbag Evaluation Form you have to fill out before throwing shit up there, so:

3. Know How To Spot The Scumbags

I already mentioned that some of these jokers ask for a little too much information.  If you're filling out an application and you feel at all uncomfortable when coming up to a certain field, just leave it blank (if it's not required) or ask why this information is necessary (if they claim it is).  I haven't had to do the latter yet, but it can't hurt.

I honestly thought I had more for this one, but it really just boils down to not throwing your personal information around like a jackass.

4. Look At Everything

It's really easy to write off any given location just by looking at an ad.  "What do these Nazis have against two-hundred-pound Mastiff-Malamutes???@!!"  "How is the gas not included with the water.  What.  Do they even understand my needs."  Just relax and set up a showing, okay?  They don't cost anything.  If you don't like it, if you really find you can't stand the sight of those substrate cabinets, then don't buy the damn thing.  Keep looking.  There's a lot more fish in the sea than you think.

5. Don't trust them new ni-

NO DO NOT LISTEN TO HIM

Section 2: If You Do Have "A Guy"

1. Don't Depend On Them

I know what I said, dammit.  As much as I ribbed on Craigslist up there, there are just as many shadesters that don't use Craigslist as their advertising go-to.  Unless you're obscenely rich (in which case, what are you doing not walking up to a building and buying it on the spot?), you do not have them in your pocket (another way of saying they're wrapped around your finger).  They still have the freedom to try to screw you, they're still trying to make a buck off you.  This isn't me trying to say "don't trust realtors".  Just...  Hell, what am I saying?  I dunno, tread lightly.  And carry a big stick.  Or something.

2. DON'T WAIT

Seriously.  This was my biggest mistake, and it's also one of the biggest tip-offs that your "guy" is as big of or greater a scumbag as/than (what is going on with this sentence's structure?) whoever you find on Craigslist.  In the beginning of my hunt for a place to live, I had a "guy", a family friend.  I'm not going to give out any names, not even of the company or their affiliates, cuz I could get into some serious defamation shit.  And I don't need that.  But right off the bat, my "guy" told me to wait until July 1st to start looking for apartments opening September 1st, cuz they wouldn't know what would be open until... I don't know either.  Now that I'm actually typing this bullshit out, I'm realizing how much of a rube I was for falling for it.

Point is, they're just trying to get you to rely on them to find you apartments.  Soon as you know that you need a place, start looking.

3. If They Ignore Your Specs, Fuck 'Em

And I don't mean fuck your specifications.  You know what kind of place you need to move into.  Don't settle for a two-bedroom if you have three roommates, don't settle for the deep south side when you specifically said "somewhere with nightlife".  If you can't tell that they put conscious effort into meeting your specifications, move on and find a different guy.  They have places to sell, and they're just trying to pawn them off on you.  They'll just keep throwing shit at you until you crack if you don't try a new angle.

An example: When I'd first started house-hunting, I told my guy (the one I'd mentioned before) what I needed: somewhere from 1500 to 2400, close to the train, out of the Loop, three bedrooms for three roommates.  I wait (stupidly), like he tells me.  Calls me back, and with what?  A bunch of two-bedroomers in the Loop (where property's doubly expensive).  I told the guy the most polite version of "go fuck yourself" that I could come up with.

...And then, bafflingly, gave him a second chance, leading me to thus:

4. Make Sure It's Actually In Lakeview

Lakeview's very popular these days, and for good reason.  It's gorgeous, there're El stops everywhere you turn, there's nightlife, and the beach is like, a fifteen-minute walk away at most.  Then there's Lakeview's funny-smelling high-school-dropout cousins.  Brief note: just because it's within a mile of Lakeshore Drive, doesn't make it "Lakeview".  If found this out after my first "guy" showed me a place in "Lakeview".  It was not Lakeview.  It was some weird stretch of sad-looking neighborhood between Lakeview and... I don't know, somewhere else.  I mean, yeah it kind of looks like Lakeview... if the Darkness from Silent Hill got to it.  A third of the buildings were abandoned, and I'm not just talking storefronts - I mean like schools and high-rises and what may have been a prison.  The park's full of shadesters, the local economy's based around liquor stores, there's jack in nightlife unless you count shooting up behind a dumpster with some of the area's more colorful persons, the in-unit laundry in the place looked like it had seen multiple stabbings, it's nearly a mile from any sort of train (somehow)...

But one last, more serious point:

5. Don't Be Afraid To Hound Your Realtor

Realtors aren't fantastic at getting back to you.  And I know, they're finding you a place - what right do you have to get on their case?

Well... every right, really.  Don't let them jerk you around.  I mean... don't call them screaming and threatening to take your business elsewhere either.  Cuz that totally won't land you a place.  And you're being a dick.  But it's their job, so... uh... I had an ending here... well, make 'em do it.

Okay, I've been working on this for like three hours and I feel like doing something else with my life now.  Kthxbye.

Bullshit Analysis: "Fake Geek Girl"

I don't know how long this one's going to be.  I've got a bunch of points I want to get to and they're all just kinda bouncing around in my braincloud, and depending on how this thing flows, I might not get to them all.  Actually, it might turn out that there's less than I thought.  We'll see.

Anyways, let's get started.

Today, I'm gonna pick apart a particularly icky term in the world of nerd - icky in terms of connotations and the controversy it's stirred from time to time:
Fake Geek (or Gamer) Girl
Let me preface this by saying I really, really hope I've never used this term in real life except to talk about the term itself.  Forreals, just typing it leaves a bad taste in my... uh... fingers.  I guess.

Not my most flattering yearbook picture.

Let's break this down.  Mostly because I have no idea where else to start.

Fake: Implying that the noun in question is a counterfeit, a sham, somehow not real, a knockoff - thus discrediting any of its worth.  When you really get down and analyze it, "fake" by itself is one hell of an insult, and one that shouldn't be thrown around as much as it is, in or out of the context of gaming/geekdom.
Geek: A circus freak that bites the heads off chickens.  Or, in more recent years, someone who places more time and value in their interests than the average Joe/Jane, usually involving something that has to do with some variant of media (TV, games, literature, movies, comics (which I'd include under literature or as a cousin of such, but for the sake of something I'm too lazy to think of a word for, I'm putting it separately), music, so forth).  There are many different types of "geek" or "nerd".
Girl: One of the female species.

Hmm...  Okay, that helps me a little.  Emphasis on "little".
All right, further breakdownage:

No.

This term implies 1) that there's something "fake" about these girls that... that what, "claim to" love games or other things about nerd culture?  It implies they are, in some way, a bastardization of what male nerds love.  I'm guessing it's because the offended, these angry "true nerds", naturally lash out against any females that step on their hallowed common ground since they'd been, in their words, "friendzoned" by girls "their entire lives".  I smell another Bullshit Analysis in the coming weeks.  Feature, perhaps?

2) Implies that the Fake Geek Girl isn't really interested in her interests (just typing that sentence is a wtf).  So apparently these ladies are fake-liking something just so they can get "in" with us greasy-backed, eczemic hunks.

Get it while it lasts, ladies.

3) Implies that this only applies to females.  No no no, save your flames, just for a moment.  Have you EVER heard someone use the term "fake geek guy"?  If the term "fake geek whatever" applies to whoever takes selective interest in certain aspects of nerd culture without living/breathing it, couldn't that easily apply to a shitton of men that share those qualities?  Answer: yes, but we don't.  The most flak I see the male spectrum getting are dudes who play mostly play CoD or Madden, and even then, it's a few snide comments/snivels.  They don't incense the nerd nationalists nearly as much as "fake gamer girls".

I think I've covered quite a bit in the various sarcastic jabs I've thrown in my text up there, but allow me to dig just a few layers deeper.

Know what it meant to be a "nerd" or a "geek" not even twenty years ago?  Let's say, before 2000?  It meant no girls fucking touched you.  As a geek of yesteryear, you'd be blessed, stunned silent, if a girl not only talked to you but shared your fucking interests, even one of them.  So fellas, when the hell did y'all get so entitled?

Quick point:
Now, I fucking hate The Big Bang Theory, don't get me wrong.  I once heard it called "blackface for nerds"

One of these days, I will learn self-control.

and I couldn't agree more.  However, to illustrate a point about the second Implication (that these girls are "faking an interest"), let me bring up the chick for a second (no I don't care to know her character's name because again, fie on Big Bang Theory).

Would you call her a "fake geek girl"?  I mean, she's on the fringe of "nerd culture", right?  Doesn't look or talk the part?  Well the answer is no, no you wouldn't.  In fact, I'd say she's as much a geek as the rest of the horrible stereotypes on that show, as much as the show tries to beat the dead horse of "Hey, look how FUCKING DIFFERENT she is!"  Why?  Because why the fuck would she hang out with them if she didn't give actually give a shit about their interests?  What could she possibly have to gain?  What's the point of "faking it"?  Why would she ask them about this kind of stuff in every single episode?
(Apparently it started with some bullshit like she tried to get them to do her homework or something - I don't know, I might be completely mistaken, but I really don't care.  After several seasons of this crap, she has to have taken a genuine interest in these guys.)

Something particularly baffling: hearing this term applied to girls that go to conventions.
To purveyors of this term: Do you have any idea how fucking expensive conventions are?  Oh, you do, because you fucking paid for it too?  Then shut your damn mouth.
I repeat: one more colon for good measure: WHY THE FUCK WOULD THEY PAY OUT THE ASS TO GO TO CONVENTIONS IF THEY DIDN'T ACTUALLY LIKE THIS STUFF.  Why??  Why would they do it??  Between ticket prices, merch, costumes (and just about every one of these girls you're calling a "fake" is in costume, one that took some serious work putting together), food, so on, you're easily going to spend twice what you intended at any given con.  So, yet again, what in God's name would be the point of "faking" such interests?

Hmm.  Wish I'd thought of a better ending to this.

Here's the point.  Malefolk of the nerd world: unclench thy collective anus, and count your blessings.  You have NO idea how good we have it.  The world is slowly but surely becoming a nerd paradise, where games like The Last of Us exist, another axe-blow in the fight to have games recognized as art; where the Dark Knight Trilogy and The Avengers can storm the box office and take a giant dump on it; where Watchmen's considered a literary achievement.  A world where fiction of any form is, more than ever, fucking cool.  Why wouldn't you want in on this?  After so many years of abuse, abuse our nerd forefathers had to deal with WAY-the-fuck more than us, are we really going to be so stubborn and selfish as to not turn the other cheek, not let the enlightened into the kingdom of nerd?  Are we really so butthurt that we'll mark as pariah people we'd never know personally if not for their interests?

For the sake of the betterment of a culture I owe so much to, for something in which I have so much stake: I certainly hope not.

This 50th post is dedicated to American McGee.

Yes, that's right.  I'm spamming this signal bump.  Well, I don't know if "spamming" is the correct term or what, but... I'm writing yet another post extolling the virtues of American McGee, the Alice series, and why YOU SHOULD GIVE YOUR DAMN MONEY TO THIS KICKSTARTER:
http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/spicyhorse/alice-otherlands

For the first, oh, two weeks of this, I wasn't worried.  People out there actually like games, right?  They want something awesome, yeah?  Looked like they did!  Shit was going strong as hell, past on-target... until like three days ago.  And now the money meter's moving at a crawl.  Hmm.  Okay, I know there's supposed to be some big rush in the last like, two-to-three days, but until we're up to 150k, I can't put myself at ease.

Overly-general bitching aside, here's something that really burns me.

Take a looksee at this petition, for Alice: Otherlands.
http://www.thepetitionsite.com/372/809/248/make-american-mcgees-alice-in-otherland-a-reality/
Yes, it's for the game, not the films, but still, it shows that there are at least this many people that want the Alice series to keep going.  Over fourteen-goddamn-thousand.
Hop back to the Kickstarter.
http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/spicyhorse/alice-otherlands
...A little over two-thousand.  Que pasa, folks?

I think I might know, maybe not what happened, but at least some of the thinking behind it.  "It's not a game, it's just a distraction, an offshoot."

Hmm.  Interesting point, definitely one that hasn't been beaten bloody.  Let me take this piece by piece.
WHY WOULD THEY MAKE THIS AND NOT A GAME
Seriously.  Dude's even said there will be a game, an Alice: Otherlands game, if the Alice: Otherlands films get funded and made.  That's not a "perhaps".
What you have to understand is, the entire purpose of this latest project is to renew interest in the Alice series, see who's still on board.  If you keep your nose turned up and only jump into the fray when it's a game, that's pretty damn selfish, considering what's at stake.  I mean, maybe Alice won't be over if this business doesn't get entirely funded, but shit, what if?  You'd really see the end of this franchise, something with such massive potential, such vision, just cuz it would mean having to shell out a couple bucks for a movie you don't want to (and don't have to) see?  BEFORE GETTING A GAME OUT OF IT ANYWAY?

Going back to my original point, with the petition: pretend all two thousand of these backers are also folks that signed that petition.  I'll bet both little toes that they're not, but for the sake of statistics jargon, let's pretend so.  That leaves twelve-thousand more people that haven't given a red cent.  If every single one of those twelve-thousand gave just five freaking dollars, that'd be 60k, add that to the 140k-ish that the Kickstarter looks frozen at, we make the goal.  Ten each?  120k, making goal and then 60k more.

Please, guys.  Don't let this series get swept under the rug.

AND WOULDJU LOOKADIS DAMN ART:

Wonder^2 or, Another Title Involving Lots of W's That I (Falsely) Think Is Witty

'Bout that time, eh chaps?  'Bout that time for another One Hit Wonder Wednesday, if I do say so myself I is I is wot wot.

That's what I was saying to myself earlier today over a spot of tea, behind my monocle and luxurious power-stache.

Okay, so it's not that luxurious, but seriously: who else can pull off the moustache-atory like that?  Yeah, you know what I mean by "moustache-atory".  That's right.  With your younger sister.

Oddly, I had some trouble thinking of a right proper inclusion to the One Hit Wonder Wednesday family.  This was (is?) ridiculous, because the 90s are more full of awesome one-hit wonders than Mike Tyson.

Woops, wrong picture.

Too soon?

(Correct answer: no)

So I put on my thinking cap.  My thinking cap turned out to be a live raccoon.

Several stitches later, I got myself thinking about the title of this feature, One Hit Wonder Wednesday, all the words in it, trying to trigger some kind of association in my coffeeless office-worm brain.

Where are you, shitty pun?!  WHERE ARE YOOUUUUuuuu...

Then I got it:

I know, I know; in the music world as a whole, Oasis is not a one-hit-wonder band.  They are very well-known, they go on big tours and shit, and you actually know the names of at least two of the members.

Well... since they're brothers and you had to memorize a total of three different names, so we'll count them as a 1.5.  Not like they make two complete people anyway.

But name another real hit by Oasis, as in something that crossed over into the world of pop, anything near the level of notoriety that makes you hum the word "Wonderwall" in Liam Gallagher's grating and nasal caterwaul as soon as you read it.

Anyone who says "Champagne Supernova" gets a kick in the teeth.

Flash Fiction Friday the First: The I Hate Myself And Want To Die Club

Hola, muzzafuckas!  New feature today!

I mentioned this I think only once before.  Several posts ago, I mentioned that this blog would be tweaking its format over time; first moving away from just stuff about 90s music, introduce a couple different regular features, some of my silly little hopes and dreams, branching out into different forms/formats/interests, and then way down the line, who knows, maybe finding a new focus.  This right here, Flash Fiction Friday, is one of the new ones I promised.

Premise is, I chain myself to a computer, hop on Blogger, and just write, for a full hour.  Hour's over, wherever I am, I wrap up the story (unless it finds its own ending before then), do a few very small spot-edits, and publish it.  So here's my first attempt; hope you enjoy!

Note: If any of this somehow offends you in any way... I really don't care?

Lights up on The I Hate Myself And Want To Die Club.  Well, only one part of the club.  The stage.  Yes, it's an actual club, not like, some club full of suicidal folks who talk about their feelings and how they wanna off themselves.  Sounds kind of fun, actually.  No, this is a flesh-and-blood, real-live arthouse club, over yonder under Sweden's Bridge.  Naw, it's not made of flesh and blood.  That'd be a little uncomfortable.  FDA would be all over that shit.  Sounds kind of gnarly, actually.  I guess a more accurate description is, a real-live wood-and-steel arthouse club.  Maybe iron instead of steel.  I don't know.  I don't know much about making buildings.

So on, on go the stage lights!  And there's already a sumbitch there, standing at the mic.  He stands mighty straight, like a pole, straighter than the mic stand itself.  Funny.  The types like this guy, they're usually not straight-standers.  Stand-straighters?  Nah, ain't my business.  But he's one of them kids that looks like he could be fifty, skin all junkied out til it's like petrified sap, covered in tattoos, including a buzzard wrapping its way from his shoulder to his neck.  I can see it cuz he's got no shirt on.  Got his nips pierced too.  And his earlobes stretched.

The murmurs begin, up front by the stage.  Buncha loons.  Show hasn't even begun and they're critiquing away.  Buncha hens.  I don't even know who this kid is, what he's doing performing at the I Hate Myself And Want To Die Club.  But I lean myself forward in my chair, and I watch.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..." he begins.  He speaks in a croak, like a frog, or a goat.  Depends on the goat, I guess.  Sounds kind of like an alligator, actually.

Kid goes on to divulge the entirety of "A Tale Of Two Cities" by Charles Dickens.  Heartwrenching piece, really.  Very timely, only took about two hours.  Got to take a good look around at the clientele; see all the lonely dreamers, the snobs what look like they're wearing microscopes on their faces, the small-time critics (all these weaselly little fellas with notepads that keep twitching their noses like rabbits), the stuffed-suits.  People drift in and out of this; not like it's boring.  The kid's monotone and his heavy Icelandic accent, it's all very commanding.  It's just a sleepy-ass night is all.  The I Hate Myself And Want To Die Club sometimes tends to do that to ya.  Low light, smoky, all-black interior.  Lots of gothic chandeliers and curlicue furniture and the like.  Lotta red candles too.  Interesting place, interesting place it is.

About halfway through, the owner comes up to me, buys me a drink, just stopping in to say "hello".  He's an old salt, he is; blind in one eye, left hand like a claw.  Left eye's the blind one.  No one's really sure what's the deal.  Sounds kind of grotesque, actually.  But it's not, it's not, it's really not.  You get used to his visage like that.  Finger-snap.  You can't really snap your fingers at someone when you're writing it down, can you?  So there, I wrote "finger-snap".  Now you hear it, don'tcha?  Finger-snap.  So me and Louie, he's the owner see, we catch up.  He takes off his top hat, fans himself cuz it's musty and stale like always (that's the I Hate Myself And Want To Die Club), sits back and watches the show with me, and then takes off.

Then I'm back to watching the show by myself.  Not the pretty girls in red dresses flopping on these little suited punks like dummies, up there in the front, nor the bar and its black liquors.  Just the front, just the kid.  Just his accent and his constant storytelling.  Heartwrenching piece, it really is.  Sounds quite nice, actually.  Something about the kid's voice.  If you could take the sound of breaking kindling and somehow make it rich, that's a pretty good picture.

The piece ends.  We all clap.  Everyone that was asleep wakes up.  No heckles, but no roses either.  I actually stand up.  A few other people stand up too.  It's no ovation, but it's what the kid deserves, at least a little of it.  Not that he notices, anyway.  He walks offstage, soon as he finishes that last word.  Still stiff as a pole.

I had the pleasure of drinking with the kid, the Dickens kid, and some other fellows on the veranda - the one hanging over the river - after the rest of the performances.  Nothing else to speak of.  I made sure to chide old Louie about it for a second after the dust had cleared.  "Rolled out the best for first, eh?" I said.  He laughed and made some kinda growl, mighta been a word.  It don't matter much, he doesn't resent me for it.  He was too busy putting chairs away anyway, and I was on my way out back to have a smoke and a drink.

I asked him why Dickens.  He said because "Dickens hated his wife."  I think it might've been a joke.  I asked him why "A Tale of Two Cities".  He shrugged, spun his beer in his lap for a second, legs up on the aluminum table.  Maybe it's iron instead of aluminum.  I don't know much about making tables.

Then the kid looks up, though he's still not looking at me, and he says it's about love.  I ask him if he's talking about the Dickens or himself; the performance or the material.  He laughs and says "Both," and then mutters "I guess."  He has less of an accent now.  Maybe it was part of the performance.

TL;DR: Not Supporting This Kickstarter Is Un-American

YO.  Listen defuq up.

So American McGee's kicked a starter.  Started a kick, whatever.  Yes, another one.  Oh, come on...  All right, yes, I know, the last one wasn't the most successful thing ever,

but American and the Spicy Horse Crew (why oh why is that not a band name) are back, with bigger ambition and a shitload more focus.  They're not just coming out of the gates swinging for the fences, putting haymakers left and right; ain't no Luke Skywalker trying to hit a drone blindfolded; these fuckers know their target now and they're gunning for it with timely and specially-skilled Liam Neeson punches.

+2 Taken Reference of Awesome

Not to say I wouldn't have loved to see an Oz thing.  But guize... Alice is coming back either way, and with a little bit of cash out of all our pockets, that way can be fucking major.

Check it, bitches:
http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/spicyhorse/alice-otherlands?ref=recently_launched

"Waaaahhhh, it's not a game; it's not the exact same big chunk of painstakingly-crafted media that I would've made to fit all my bullshit fanboy/girl expectations," said every person who didn't read the freaking memo.  Guys, do you really think they're gonna bring Alice back with a one-two punch and NOT make another game?  As a freaking gaming company, do you really think they would do that?

American, in case you're reading this... that's not what's happening, right?

Btw, you look like you front a 90s industrial band in this picture.  Not a bad thing. #mancrush

But forreal, OF COURSE THEY'RE MAKING ANOTHER GAME, NINCOMPOOPS.  Again... they're a game company.  "They" being Spicy Horse.  It's what they do.  They know we want it; they'll deliver.

Back to the actual Kickstarter at hand.  Alice: Otherlands is to the Alice series as the Animatrix was to The Matrix.  What Halo Legends was to Halo.  And you know what those other two things were?  Those other analogous things that've already been made?  That's right, fucking awesome.  Seriously, if you A) don't think this is gonna be great or B) are seriously gonna sit up there pouting on your high horse, then you need to... to... I don't know.  To shut up and get me a beer.  Or something.

GOD DAMN WOULD YOU LOOK AT THIS ART.

Tomorrow, when my newest paycheck's gone through, while I'm sitting at my desk at my safe little internship, know what I'm gonna do?  I'm gonna go online and donate 75 dollars of that bitch.  That's right... on my muthafuckin' lunch break.

Okay, seriously.  If you really love video games, if you really love the crazy minds of Lewis Carroll and American McGee, if you really want to see the advancement of video games as a storytelling medium and assist its crossover with other media, I strongly suggest donating to this new campaign.  There's a few handfuls of game developers out there that share a similar vision, that want what we want even more than we do, and those handfuls are growing and growing, but you know who was one of the first to join that fold?  One of the first front-line gaming visionaries, fighting for this medium's artistry, one of the first to be scooped up by Art's metaphorical hand and stare up into its face and show no goddamn fear?

That's American.

If anyone deserves our respect, our admiration, our support, and yes, our cash, it's American McGee.

So one more time:
http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/spicyhorse/alice-otherlands

Thank you.

I've Been Con-Vinced

So I went to my first convention over the past weekend.

And I am never missing another one again.  Ever.  If at all possible.

Yes, it was that great.  If you consider yourself a nerd/geek/enthusiast/hobbyist at ALL, even if you only really wig out over Doctor Who and don't watch that much anime or play very many games, you should probably motherfucking go.  There's hella interesting panels (and funny ones too), so much awesome merch (that's not that expensive either), free ramen all day, bands, autograph things, freaking speed-dating and OH MY GOD THE COSTUMES.

Cuz oh my fuck Pyramidhead.

Seriously, this was one of the best things for me and my unsettled brain.  I've never interacted with so many people in one day, ever.  And what's more, for all that interaction, I enjoyed like, at least 90% of those interactions.  That's insane.  I'm no misanthrope, but usually after being in contact with like, twenty people in a day, I'm like "Enough.  Back to the Thomascave."  But at Anime Midwest, I... I really coulda just kept going.

One quick thing though.  I was originally going to put this at the very end, but I'd rather not leave this off on a dark/disturbing note, so we're going to get this signal bump out of the way here and now.

I know it's a little after-the-fact, and the next major con isn't for a while, but a warning to all ye congoers, especially the womenfolk: there's this dude, Christopher Jason Ross, who's going around online (and maybe in meatspace too) stalking and harrassing female cosplayers.  I heard he's been banned from cons, but I don't know how much truth there is to that or if anything else has come from this.  Now I'm not gonna sit here making fun of some dude I don't know by name because that's base and not very productive, but seriously, this dude is unbalanced.  Read the article linked below to know what I'm talking about.  The fact that there's a dude like that somewhere in this town really wigs me out.  "This town" meaning Chicago, if I forgot to mention.

http://stickiebun13.tumblr.com/post/54962207802/warning-to-any-female-cosplayer-in-the-chicago-and

But more about me finding happiness!  Yaayyyy!
The only picture of me I could find:

Myself as a Heartless, my friends camo!Deadpool and uh... I forgot what eye-patch guy is, and a chick we met there, dressed as Haruko Haruhara.  That's her cardboard-and-duct-tape bass that I'm playing.

Go forth, ye doubtful.  Go forth and con.  You will thank me.

Oh, and I met this guy:

who's the voice of this guy:

who's like, one of my favorite characters ever.  So that was cool.

UPDATE: Also, I just realized after posting this that I used the phrase "wig/wigged out" in both positive and negative contexts, in the same article.
..........................................Meh.