Zombies! Engagement! Thunder Birds!

Kind of a scattered post here tonight. First off, Megh and I got engaged today! I proposed at the park. Megh thought I was getting her Magic cards. It was one of the best days of my life, even if Isaac was too busy looking at trees to notice what was going on. His mind is prone to wander, and I doubt he even got the context of what was going on, besides.
Anyway, it was quite a shock to Megh. And I was flying by the seat of my pants, so the whole thing was a shock to me as well. We also didn't tell anyone else, so it came as a shock to everyone! Shocks all around!

SHOOOOOOOCKS!

Needless to say, she was speechless. And I don't think she expected it in what was supposed to be a lull after the wake of San Antonio Zombie Con 2012: The Apocalypse. If you don't know what that is, feel free to jump back a few days or weeks in the blog and give me some extra page-views.

The con was a lot of fun, but rough-hewn and unprofessional. There were too few vendors, too many bands, and not enough organization. The staff, composed of a single family, was expectedly unprofessional. It was a good try for the first con, and Megh can give you more details in yesterday's post, but I wanted to talk about Z-Con a bit on my own. Because there was something Megh left out in her review. Something that influenced me greatly, but did little to effect the con as a whole. The food gave me diarrhea. The overpriced carney food gave me the runs. At one of the most inopportune times of my life. I'm not sure I've ever had to sit and wait in one spot for that long before. It is not good for any human to sit at a booth for twelve grueling hours, trying to sell merchandise with a pressure cooker of pickle juice and McDonald's pig grease boiling over in his intestines like a farty witch's cauldron, accompanied by blaring dubstep music and teenagers screaming. It is even worse to have that aforementioned colonoscopy soup waxing and waning inside you like the Gulf Coast tide itself while mouthbreathers in camouflage take pictures of you. And all of the overpriced Gator-Aid in the world could not fix it. The only solace that I had was the fact that, if I did indeed poop myself, I was at least dressed in a straight jacket and could claim it was part of the costume.

So to you, San Antonio Zombie Con 2012: The Apocalypse, I must say that I will not be attending San Antonio Zombie Con 2013: The Post-Apocalypse. Nor any San Antonio Zombie Con to follow. I have eaten pickles. I have eaten McDonald's. And burning hot hot wings, Mexican food, Indian food, my weight in 2% milk, and several things I found on the ground outside, and nothing was caustic enough to bring me such spontaneous and urgent bowel movements. And hopefully, nothing will ever effect me that way again. Good day, San Antonio Zombie Con 2012: The Apocalypse. Good day and good riddance.

Stay classy,
 Aaron