Ok, so there was, like, a convention? With, like, writy, journally people? And it was, like, totally fun?
Except when it wasn't, which wasn't often thank God, because as Stella once mentioned, I can have fun at an accountant's convention.
So what if there's no karaoke! I'm wearing incredible shoes that make random boys want to hold my ankles and who cares if they don't want to look up my skirt? Because in the end, we're all dancing, and that's all that counts, non? And so what if the hotel wasn't conducive to conversation? The decor accessorised all my outfits! And so what if walking 10 feet in Washington D.C. means having to take a shower three times a day, because you're dripping with glow and you feel like you're in hell? That's ok! Because you're walking towards The Hope Diamond, and several Warhols, and more Rotkho beauty than you can shake a stick at, and giant dinosaur bones that make your age lines disappear instantly because perspective is everything, poppets.
There will be more, I promise. I just have to sort it all out first. I'd hate to ruin my memories of JCon and BEER just because I haven't found a thousand perfect words to paint the picture yet.
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