VVC OMG

TWO WEEKS, TWO WEEKS, YOU GUYS IT IS TWO WEEKS.

And I have a Club Vivid plan, finally. Normally I just go in my pajamas. Well, except that one year I borrowed stuff from vagabondage and tried to go all tough and punk, but everyone just patted me on the head. This year I still plan on going in my pj's but I'm going to work with the head patting. Embrace the lame that is me which will never, ever look right in any attempts to look the sexay or the tuff. I am going to attempt to make a t-shirt to wear with my jammie bottoms using iron on letters to spell out Free Hugs, and hearts and stars, and somehow attempt to make them sparkle. Given my talent level with such things I am going to end up looking like a kindergarten project. That sparkles. Take that all you hot ass sexy people in your sexy things on the dance floor.

TWO WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKS.

(no subject)

I am a little, actually a lot, weirded out by the report of Tennant getting mobbed by fans at Hamlet [ETA: this may not actually be true]. I don't get it. I mean, even setting aside the whole boundaries issues and whatever, I fail to see where the payoff is from the fan perspective. Going to the show, yes, I totally get that. The payoff is obvious, a production of Hamlet and a chance to see a favorite actor dig his teeth into a big meaty role with the RSC. And if you are like me and willing to plan international trips around it, you get to wander about a country you've never visited before. In the same way I sort of understand going to an actor panel at a con or lining up for a photo or autograph session, because the expectations are clear and everyone has agreed to what they are. Not my cuppa, usually, but I get where the fan payoff is. I can even see going to the stage door on the off chance you might get a chance to fangirl, though I'm a bit of a chickenshit about that sort of thing and would likely only do so if I was following people I was with.

Sticking around once it is any sort of large crowd flailing about trying to get to a dude who is likely exhausted and will not remember you five seconds later if he sees you at all...this, I don't get. I mean, lets say you do manage to elbow your way to the front of the crowd. So what? It's not like he's going to look over and see me and drop to his knees going "There! There is the bald, chubby, 30-something lesbian I have been waiting for all my life. Come cuddle me so I can confuse your sexual orientation more!" At best there might be a hastily scrawled autograph and a brief glimpse of eyes screaming 'dear god, I just want to go home and nap'...and what's the fun in that? I don't know the guy, he doesn't know me, and at a certain point the payoff to irritation ratio in the actor/fan interaction for both sides just plummets.

Maybe I'm missing some part of the fan gene, but at that point what sounds like way more fun is finding somewhere to quiet to sit down with fellow fangirls and squeal over coffee about how Hamlet's hair has never been quite that expressive, and yes, you know...I never thought about it but if someone had just given him a kitten a whole lot of tragedy might have been avoided. Goofing around with actual friends after getting a chance to see a great performance and support a favorite actor vs. getting kicked in the shin by a hyperventilating mob on the off chance of a five second uncomfortable encounter with said actor? Seems like sort of a no-brainer to me.