I may not look as good as *I* want to, but that doesn't mean I don't look good. *grin*
The Men In Kilts (With Leafblower) event on Saturday night (note: this is not going to be a chronographic retelling) was something I'd been dragooned into being a dragoon for and, other than several minutes' worth of "Where the actual fuck is the room we're infesting?" (aided and abetted by running into Happygoth and Jennie, and getting directions from one of the Hyatt's security personnel), we rocked the fuck out of it. Line got managed to the point where it was referenced by guests the next day who didn't know I was the guy doing so as "way better than $other_event" (which I had seen the globular cluster that formed in lieu of a line)... so, yeah, I can put "professional geek herder" on my resume as an actual thing. I have offered to give classes to other tracks next year.
The kiltblowing itself was good, if somewhat muted in terms of theatrics compared to recent years (relatively speaking - two years ago, Obby proposed to Jennie, and last year, another couple got married)... there were some clever costumes and acts (Beast, Loki, Carl the Dragon*Con Janitor, Captain Jack Harkness, a chain-mail Captain America, a Stormtrooper who was double-kilted for a tearaway faux-reveal), and several of the buff and shirtless contingent to which I belong. We filled the 300 seat room to overflowing; 400 seats might have been enough, and 500 would definitely have kept folks from being turned away and/or having to wait for folks to leave.
... which is saying something, because there were two 800 pound gorillas that night; the humongous rave at the Marriott, and the Heroes & Villains Ball at the Sheraton, which was more or less hosted by the rest of the folks on my track, and which drew about 3,300 people to a room rated for 2,000 at the "distant" hotel. I worked that party last year, when it "only" drew 2,800 people, and it was a heck of a thing.
Mostly, though, I just kind of lurked around the Hilton, where I was working my track, making occasional food excursions, and retreating to my room to sleep and soak in the tub as much as possible, because my shoulder and left hip hurt more or less nonstop. CS was also physically inconvenienced/compromised to the point where I suggested talking to the con services folks, at which point, whole new vistas of being able to do stuff without suffering heinous amounts of after-effect pain opened up for her, and next year is already being looked forward to with much optimism. I also got to meet a couple of her friends, albeit briefly, and saw a handful of my old WoW guildmates and other friends, whom I enjoy muchly.
On the whole, it was a fairly low-key con for me; I finally got a chance to play Cards Against Humanity, which is as delightfully heinous as I had expected it to be; I got to see friends and hug people and caught, via DCTV rebroadcast, the pinnacle of humanity that is George fucking Takei (and even got to appreciate a bit of the BSG panel, because when Edward James Almos talked about getting the fucking United Nations to change their policy on the word "race" and follow that up with "So say we all," that's fucking ace in my book whether I think the show sucks or not).
[elision of annoying things, which may get unpacked under f-lock, but the short version is "if you are racist or sexist in my presence, you're going to have a bad day"]
Came home to a robust and healthy Magellan, and caught Kirk up with trivial ease; she got taken to the vet this morning to get weighed, temped (no fever), and given some antibiotics to quell the wheezing. CS has posted a bunch of pix and video to the bookface, many of which I have re-shared from there, and there will be additional feline content to follow, I'm sure. Today was spent decompressing and running a shitload of errands - prescriptions, groceries, plants at the hardware store, the HVAC guy checking my system, and calling to schedule my room reservations for next year's convention.
Friday is my pre-op; Monday, I go under the knife. So I have two short workdays left until then; I have been assured that things were hectic but otherwise unremarkable. I ain't gonna sweat it, because there ain't shit I can do about it.