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Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Bar Bets and Bustiers

John Calvin’s bones are climbing his crypt walls at that headline, no doubt, but I didn’t make the bet—my trivia team was its unwitting subject.  Monday night was the first of a new quarter, trivia-competition-wise, and our all-girl team decided to discard our old nom de hmm “That’s What She Said” and adopt another.  The new name is an homage to a typo (scripto?) from last quarter: “No Man’s Cupcake” (the answer we meant to write was “no man’s land” but we were discussing desserts at the time, and, well, we added crawling through icing to the perils of the First World War).  It seemed fitting, given the gender makeup of our group.  During the game we noticed some yuppie policy-wonk type guys at another table looking over at us, and eventually one came over and asked us what our team was called.  “I won the bet!” he crowed when we told him. 

My friend and teammate Mia brought me my Comic-Con magazine/preview program, which had been mailed to her address, since she was the one who bought my ticket for me at last year’s ultimate nerdfest.  We’ve been discussing costumes for months, and for one of the four days I’m planning to be a character from Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (Mia tells me they have a zombie parade and we’ve got to participate) and for one of the other days I’d like to be a half-and-half steampunkish Snidely Whiplash/Moulin Rouge chorus girl.  I’ve ordered a top hat, and I’ll find a suit at an estate sale I can alter to 19th century lines, and then split down the middle (I plan to cut the topper in two and cover the new opening with ostrich feathers and sequins)—the cravat or bow tie will be connected to a black velvet neck ribbon with half a cameo on it.  But, I need another corset, preferably in red leather (fabric just isn’t as comfortable for day-long wear, and my brown leather one has a pre-Victorian vibe and is besides insufficiently flashy) which will contrast with the men’s garb, and to which I can add lace and feathers.  I’ll have a mustache on one side of my face (and a Sherlockian pipe), and false eyelashes and outlandish feminine makeup on the other.  The whole point is to have fun dressing up, after all—why go to Comic-Con and be dull?

I need to send Mums the dates for the trip so she can meet me out there in San Diego the last day of the convention and we can spend the next week sightseeing.  I'm going to a new part of the country and I want to stay to explore a while; and it’s much more fun to explore with someone else.  I shall eschew eccentric dress once Mums arrives, however.  She might refuse to be seen with me, although Californians are probably used to weirdness by this point.

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