Where the Fuck Have I Been? Where the Fuck Have YOU Been, Man!?

My inbox has made it explicitly clear that I cannot skip a week like that ever, ever again.

I did not realize I was so well followed already.

Not really relevant, but "Aww!"

Anyshoe, adorable critter shout-outs to family and funny shows aside, I thought I'd share with you one of the many epic distractions keeping me from you fine people as of late.
Husband and I went to Star Trek's Las Vegas Convention.
EHRMAGHERD, NERDS!
But not really. 
Don't hate on people who found a way to play dress up and imagination land in an acceptable environment, just because you haven't found a place to do it yourself. That's right, go back into your couch cushion fort and tell Mr. Fluffykins you done got called out! 

We, of course, handled the trip with the utmost degree of ridiculous fuckery we could manage.

It took the last shred of self-control I had not to buy it.

It's like they knew who booked the room

We had a really good time meeting people and participating in the Guinness Book World record breaker.  The Vegas convention beat London at a grand total of 1084 people in legit costume in one room, and the guys running it were strict as fuck!

Story Time!

There was a crew in front of us of about 6 guys, all wearing Voyager shirts, but in denim jeans and Reeboks. Right off the bat I didn't like these guys. They were all about my age, so that's a strike right there. Damn yungins.

We were in line to get inside for about 20 minutes, and the entire time these dudes were either eye-raping, or creepshotting me and this other super cute girl in a kitty costume next to us. For those unaware, I hate, hate, hate being stared at. Ask the husband. I go into a blind rage when I get treated like a piece of meat on display in the butcher shop.Guys, I'm not a t-bone, or any bone for that matter. I guarantee you, most women do not like to be stared at like that.

Stahp.

 Kitty handled it better than I did, and when she noticed offered them a posed photo in the hopes they'd stop being so obvious. They did not.

At one point Kitty's husband, and mine, engaged in a stare down that rivaled a Clint Eastwood tumbleweed scene. It got broken up by some comic relief from a Klingon that scared the crap out of me when he tried to shish-kabob my Tribble.

Now for the good part. These guys get to the door, and the record handlers give them the up-down and reject them. They got booted so cold, it made my evil excited. I admit, I almost yelled, "BURN!", like the mature adult I am. Good times.

I'm not as big of a fan of the Star Trek world as Husband is, but I did find my own ways to enjoy it. This trip had a handful of positive firsts for me. This costume was my virgin voyage with cat-eye style make up. I had researched a bit and tried my damnedest to look like an authentic 1960's Gene Rodenberry dream.

The look, without glasses in the way.

Had I planned any betterer - that's a word now - I would have gotten contacts. No one wears glasses in the future, apparently. I had that explained to me repeatedly by many a Kirk, "admiring" my costume. For seriously though, any time Husband left me unattended, someone would rush up to say hello and chat.

This is just further evidence to support my dad's theory that husband is something supernatural.

Or you know, just the usual jealous husband, which sets me up for my next first.

I did not in the slightest think that I had the bod to pull this one off. I am, how you say, fluffy, and not always in the right ways. I have a tendency for food-baby-bump, which is not something I like to flaunt. However, this nice lady at the Rodenberry booth reminded me of the bad bitch that I am, and even helped me change into it there! I haven't felt this bangin since, like, the day before that. Props to the Rodenberry booth. Salesmanship, people. Salesmanship. 

Unfortunately, the belly-bump did rear it's ugly head after many hours of switch-hitting booze and food that was delicious as fuck. Two things in Vegas I have no restraint about are my alcohol consumption, and my budget for food. These are the reasons I gamble.
 

 All of that went straight to dinner's tab.

I can attest, some of the resort restaurants make me want to become a millionaire so I can fund their expansion in order to be located in my town. Okay, really it's just one in particular - The Pub at Monte Carlo. I mean, look at this shit and tell me you didn't just 'gasm!? I know I did.

But seriously, The Pub. Come to California, preferably the Santa Clarita area. Of course then I'd be taking an active step against the battle to end obesity, and I can't afford another reason for Michelle Obama to put me on her "Aww hell naw, girl!" list. 


Another first I experienced was realizing how very much I like George Takei.I mean, I've followed him on Facebook for almost a year, and I've always enjoyed his jokes and even his more serious posts - like his political musings. We're pretty much on the same page as far as our social politics go, so I was intrigued to see him on stage during the convention.

We actually had really great seats, and a perfect view of everyone we went to see on stage, including John De Lancie and Jeri Ryan. I'd have video or photos, but the lighting was set up in super-mega-holyshit-bright spotlights, which white washed the stage into a camera-hater zone. Pretty sure it was on purpose, but that didn't stop some people. 
I was surprised by how many topics other than Star Trek came up during all of the different stage questionnaires. George did take some time to discuss his current campaign against LGBT oppression, which I am starting to get a better understanding of myself.
If you want to read up on his stances, do some research or whatever, his official page is Here.