B's Secret Invasion Part III

Friday. The thrill is gone. The novelty replaced with cold familiarity. The wonder has evaporated like so much evaporating juice. Still fun, but the sense of awe has made way for a sense of dutiful perseverance. The ever-gazing eye of Comic-Con cares not if you're tired. It cares not for the weight of your backpack. It cares not for ... well whatever.



So on the first day I posted that picture of me and David Mack. That got me a mention on davidmackguide.com, his unofficial-official website. Now I'm worried that David Mack will read my blog and see that I called him the sexiest man alive and then things will be all awkward.



I forgot to post the sketch he did for me. This is a character he created, and one of my favorites, Echo.

Friday morning I walked in and saw Tim Sale at his booth. He can be a hard guy to catch. He's always been a popular artist, but even moreso now because he does all the artwork seen on the show Heroes.

His hard-back art book was a pain to carry around for two days, but I did get this which makes it worth it and then some.

I love the simplicity.

Tara McPherson. I've been a fan of hers ever since I saw her book in a store and thumbed through it.

She handed me my sketchbook and looked up and smiled. I smiled back. Our eyes locked. I leaned in closer. Then she pointed at her shirt and then gestured for me to walk away. And walk away I did.

Skull flower!

Bigfoot!

Comic-Con is more than just comics. All the major movie studios were there getting the hype started early. There was a near riot at the Paramount booth when they gave away posters for next year's GI Joe movie (I got all five).

The crowd surged even more when they started giving away Blu-Ray DVDs. I pointed out that it was just the Nicolas Cage movie Next, and they dispersed in an orderly fashion.

Here's an inside joke (sort of) between me and Emily.

"Hey, great costume man!"

"What costume?"

Speaking of costumes, the number one theme was probably the Joker. I saw about three nurse Jokers.

Meanwhile, this fella CREATED the Joker. And nobody cared. You know, the Joker? Heath Ledger? Jack Nicholson? Caesar Romero? Hehehehehehe? One of the most iconic fictional characters around? You're all dressed like him? This guy created him? No? Not interested?

My friend Sean told me about a quote where someone said "Comic fans treat the characters like they're real and the creators like they're made of paper."

Is this Scott being interviewed by HBO? Yes, I believe it is.

It's tied into the promotional campaign for the new show True Blood. They said Scott was the best interview they've had all day. If I remember correctly it may eventually end up here, Blood Copy.

New game! Spot the Baldwin.

New game! Spot the teenage doctor.

This guy had a bug hat for no damn reason at all.



Scott is a man of the soil, so I guess he didn't mind. I didn't want that thing anywhere near me. And the bug creeped me out too.

This booth-

I guess every picture tells a story, but sometimes pictures try to tell too much story.

Ended up that night at one of the many faux Irish pubs that dot the Gaslamp. I think it was called Dublin Square? I'd look it up but I don't care that much.

Dear Cover Band at the Pub,

There are other Irishy rock drinkin' bands besides the Dropkick Murphy's. It's okay to play a Pogues song now and then. Furthermore, I question the wisdom of spinning a Dropkick Murphy's CD between sets.

Will I survive til the end?

microsuede for beginners

Today's post is a good jumping on point for new readers. It has almost all of the classic Microsuede staples (cliches), but you won't be confused by all the back-continuity. I think you can pick up the story right from here without having to consult the wikipedia page or go hunting for past entries.

Weekend! A series of happenstances between Emily and Tracy led to a plan to visit Heber City in pursuit of a corn dog. Legend has it that this corn dog is the best corn dog around.

I was excited to go because I've never spent any meaningful time in Heber. Aside from a recent night-time raid I've only ever passed through. It's a nice little burg, a true small town nestled within the Wasatch Moun'ains.


To the right you can see the corner of The Dairy Keen, home of the corn-dog. This apparently is the place to be on a Friday night. It was packed, and there were at least thirty high school kids working behind the counter.

The paging system seemed a little too complicated for a one-dollar corn dog. can't they just yell out "97!"?

When the dog is ready the pager beeps, vibrates, and a robot voice says "Your order is ready. Please return to the counter to pick up your order." Weird. Oh, the dog was pretty good by the way.

Post corn-dog plans involved a stop by the cemetery. I like cemeteries aesthetically, for the stories they can tell, and because they remind me of the circle of life and all that junk. The cemetery in Heber is particularly interesting though.

There's this guy:

I'm a wannabe WWII buff so I was fascinated by this one. I've researched Sgt. Edwards' division, trying to see what steps he took. From what I gather he would have gone from Heber to Camp Barkley Texas, Fort Dix New Jersey, England, Wales, Normandy, and finally back to Heber.

Presuming this guy was in combat, he would have landed on Utah Beach two days after D-Day, and been involved in some pretty fierce battles while trying to retake northwestern France. Again, presuming he was killed in combat, he would have died while the 357th liberated the prefecture of Mayenne. I don't know if this is interesting to anyone but me... I dunno. This twenty-three year old from sleepy Heber City, going halfway around the world and meeting his end to free people he'd never meet, then making the long journey back to Heber. It's something.

While we're talking long journeys, I like this headstone. "Died in this city."

Here's this.

Same stone from the other, spookier side.

Three children from the same family, all under the age of two.

Can you even imagine? My biggest struggle on any given day is deciding where to go to lunch or dealing with the hassle of my wi-fi not working.

[pause for dignified reflection]

Here's someone walkin' around.

At first I was pretty excited that I'd captured a ghost on film, but it turns out it's just Emily. I guess I should have been tipped off by the fact that the ghost was dressed just like Emily.

One more cemetery pic and we're done.

Okay! Time to see what the Heber night life has to offer, starting with a stroll down Main Street.

This is posted in the doorway of a sewing machine store.

Ken's a great guy, willing to accommodate an after hours sewing repair emergency.

Neon. This place carries parts for all cars.

This restaurant saloon is called the Spicy Lady.

It claims to be the oldest building in Heber, and the oldest bar in Utah. It was only refurbished recently though and made into a mostly family friendly affair.

My attempts to hit on the waitresses were unsuccessful.

"Are you a spicy lady? Did they name this place after you, caliente chicadilla?"

The important thing is that they serve kangaroo meat. I was almost going to order it even though it was $22 and I wasn't hungry, but luckily I could get my kangaroo fix in a more economic quesadilla format.

Tastes like marsupial.

Finally we ended up at a place called The Other End. Had there been a piano player he would have stopped playing as soon as we walked in, as every sleeveless shirted cowboy hatted head turned to glare at us. Not my usual scene, but it was a friendly enough place. At one point I found myself alone on the patio (not uncommon at bars/restaurant/social functions) breathing the fresh country air and looking up at the big orange moon (likely a product of the California wild-fires). Just over yonder a bull was grazing. It was nice.

I didn't take too many pictures as it didn't seem like a picture takin' kind of place, but I had to get my neon.

And that's that. So long Heber.

Nothing happened on Saturday that can be considered more noteworthy than this.

A long time ago someone thought that mixing clam juice and tomato juice would be a good idea. Then someone else thought that mixing this clamato with beer would be a good idea. Guess what? It's not. In fact it might be the worst idea anyone has ever had. I took a swig and reflexively spit it out. Yich.

Unlike Budmato, there's one thing that's always a good idea. Watching the Wire. Here's a B's eye view of that affair.

Sunday was the boringest day ever, the end.

katie casey had the fever and had it bad

There's really only one thing I wanted to do while in Chicago, besides all the other things: see a Cubs game at Wrigley Field. Rudy had a ticket to the game too and our seats weren't near each other, but it ended up working out because no one ever claimed the seats next to me.

Rounding the corner, here's what I looked like at the exact moment I first set eyes on Wrigley.



Freakin' Wrigley, man. When I was a little kid I'd spend my summers sitting in my bedroom sorting baseball cards and watching Harry Caray call Cubs games on WGN. I've never really been a Cubs fan, but the games were on and thusly I watched them.

The scene around the park is insane. I've never seen so much hype around a sporting event, including big time NBA playoff games. These folks love their Cubbies.

We got there way early, checked out the neighborhood. Met up with some friends of friends at this hole in the wall bar.

At least I thought it was a hole in the wall. It was packed to the gills, and narrow doorways led from room to room to room. This place was huge!

Ah, there's the famous Chicago El Train, named by the early Spanish settlers to the region.

"Hey, help me get up there. I'm gonna write some awesome graffiti on the El rail."

"Oh yeah? What's it gonna say?"

"It's gonna say, 'Cubs."'

"Nice."

Rudy and I walked through the tiny concourse and he stopped, took a look at the field, and said "Dude." Nothing else needed to be said.

I've been to my share of Major League parks, but Wrigley might be my favorite. It's so intimate, and the crowd was great.

Here's all-star Derek Lee. He hit a home run on this swing.

Fan favorite Kosuke Fukidome.

"You can't arrrrrg-ue with great taste." I didn't understand this at first, then I realized the Cubs were playing the Pirates.

I wonder if they change the sign for every series? "our brewers never strike out." That's all I got. You come up with more.

As it happens, my favorite player, Doug Mientkiewicz, plays for the Pirates now.

You've probably never heard of him, but he played for the Salt Lake Buzz in 2000, a powerhouse team that produced a lot of Major League players. He had to cut the season short to play for the good ol' US of A in the Olympics, where he hit a game-winning homerun to upset Cuba. Then he played for my Minnesota Twins in 2001, their first winning season in like ten years. He's bounced around a lot since then and even though he's known for his stellar defense, he's never really been able to get his bat going.

Cubs won, 13-1. Such a great experience, but it could have been so much better if I hadn't forgotten my banjo.

After the game me and my new friends headed out for a place called Sheffield's. Passed this on the way.

His real estate seems great until you realize it's just a bunch of green-screen.

Every movie that has ever taken place in Chicago has filmed a scene under this track. Probably.

A word about neon. I was incredibly disappointed by the neon selection in Chicago. Maybe I just wasn't going to the right places, but I hardly saw any neon at all. This is the best picture from the whole weekend.

Now let's Microsuede it up a bit.

Spent a lot of time at Sheffield's, a haven for beer snobs. They had 200 different varieties of beer, which is great for me since I like to collect interesting beer bottles or bottles from particular good times.

I really like this one, from a place in Colorado called Ska Brewing. It's like this bottle was made just for me.

I disagree, I don't think I drank too much at all.

Back to the hotel for a half-hour nap, which ended up lasting five hours. I woke up at midnight totally bummed that I had slept through the Jazz game and potentially wasted the entire Saturday night. Luckily there was a place open late, so I was able to get my chill on.

Nora the Lithuanian: "Are you from Illinois?"

B. "No, Salt Lake."

Nora the Lithuanian: "Exactly."

Some Stranger: "Do you like Heroes?"

B. "The show or the ... type of person?"

Some Stranger: "The show."

B. "Well, not really."

Some Stranger: "Okay." (disappears)

Maybe I reminded her of Hiro. Some people have said that before which is weird because I don't wear cardigans.

Finally, time for some food. I seemed to be hot on the trail of a disrobing barista.

This McDonald's was a grand palace of indulgence.

I wish I could have gotten a better picture of this guy. He looked exactly like my brother Sean. Same poofy hair, same beard, same size and shape, same hang dog expression. Uncanny.

I realize that it's rude to take pictures of a stranger just trying to enjoy some McDonald's. I'm not proud of myself. But still, he looked just like Sean.

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