Home from Wizard World Chicago, and exhausted from staying up far too late last night and getting up far too early this morning. But the company was excellent, and I don't regret a minute of it. Okay, except for the part Friday night when I perhaps drank a bit too much on an empty stomach. You'd think after 15 years of this show, I'd remember not to do that.

But this year I only managed to call at least one old bar buddy by the wrong given name, instead of my usual 3+. Score!

Name tags. I love name tags. They are especially useful when I am trying to remember if I recognise you because we went out to dinner and had a great conversation about Suicide Squad that one time 5 years ago, or if I recognise you because I had to rescue a girlfriend from you in Knuckles. Twice.

Also, while I forever miss the pool table in Knuckles, which has gone to the crappy hotel sports bar in the sky, the espresso/cappucino machine in the Regency Lounge has totally made up for it. I want to marry it and have 2.4 kids and a dog and a house in the suburbs with it. No lie.

Oh! And this year the Obligatory Hyatt Regency Arrest was a beardy white guy who was rapping in the lobby and cussing in front of small children. They tasered him, and he was openly weeping—possibly from pepper spray—when Buzz and I saw him being cuffed as we came back from lunch.

Those Rosemont cops. They're wacky.

I met a lot of lovely new people, and saw many old friends and there was much hugging and hanging out and story-telling and trading of YouTube clips at 3am (how the boys at The Pull Box have lived this long without Here Comes Dr Tran!, I will never know).

I have now been home for about 6 hours, have read all the comics I bought or was given, done absolutely no laundry at all, and I am struggling to keep my eyes open. So I'll have to do a proper con report later this week.