carnaaki

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Well, that sound you heard across the country on Tuesday Night wasn't a giant stepping on some massive bubble-wrap, it was instead thousands of Archeaologists and Historians exploding in outrage and fury scanners style at the last episode of "Bonekickers", which frankly has become unmissable viewing for me, only to see how preposterous the plot is and how utterly rubbish and unacademic the female lead further becomes, seriously its a great descent into madness and preposterousness...can't even excuse this one on the basis of the skeleton having an american accent. C'mon folks! Get with it! Watch it next Tuesday and just throw your hands in the air, enjoy the ride and go "Wheeeeee!" as you descend down the helterskelter of tripe! It's a great laugh, and would particularly benefit from a group of mates, a lot of drink and a ton of heckling MST3K style! Why didn't I think of this before? I would have applied the same principle to "Robin Hood" if I had...

In other news of impending crapness that no-one wants and no-one asked for:

Remake of Rocky Horror Picture Show planned by MTV

*Ducks to avoid the messy shrapnel from Ju's head exploding*

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!

_tonylee_

• 22:49 Bloody hell. Arrive at pro reg queue at 2.15 expecting my usual hour wait in line. 3 minutes later, barcode scanned, I have pass in hand. #

_tonylee_

You know it's a bad thing when you start mixing tequila slammers with champagne...

So, Day one of the incredible San Diego experience. Or, as it was mentioned occasionally yesterday, 'that bloody awful bastard bastard why the hell am I even here' day. Yes, as ever the San Diego fuck Tony up curse was there in force, as ever.

5.30 in the morning, I get up, shower, dress and I'm in the car for 6am, driving down to my Dad's house in Hayes, getting there for 8am. My wonderful father drives me to Heathrow for 8.30am where the moment I get out of the car I bump into celebrity chum, Fables artist Mark 'Bucky' Buckingham who, unlike yours truly, about to start into the hour long queue to the American Airlines check in desk, was instead taken by dancing girls and fashion shoot models to the Virgin Atlantic desk - such is the way of fame, I suppose. Damn him.

The flight over wasn't too bad - I even managed about an hour's worth of kip in between watching episodes of West Wing which I had downloaded onto my PSP and reading. Eventually at 2.30pm (that's 10.30pm GMT) we land -

To be told that we can't leave the plane.

No, I shit you not, gentle reader. Due to an 'event' in LAX that had closed the entire airport for an hour at the exact moment we arrived? we were stuck. Aha, I thought. The curse has struck again. But no, we were let out, past the line of police who examined our passports with intense scrutiny and then through immigration and security in a record speed. For once we were ahead of the curve, and I managed to get to the American Eagle terminal in good spirits.

Of course, the Gods of fate were still rolling dice and huzzah, the plane I was waiting for was cancelled. Huzzah. We then had an hour of stress, as people were lined and shuttle buses were arranged. There was a problem where members of the AAdvantage  club were automatically moved to the next flight and, as an AAdvantage member I was confused as to why the hell I hadn't been, and then we had a long arguement involving that I hadn't amassed enough miles to get the level, regardless that I had on this journey alone. Eventually I gave up, having had enough and took the shuttle to San Diego, a journey that took three hours and got us into the airport just past 9pm, three hours later than I was expected. Yup, every other year I seem to end up driviing to San Diego...

From the airport I took a cab to the hotel, driven by an insane Kenyan who was a devout Arsenal fan - I have never been more scared as he drove over the massive bridge that links San Diego to Coronado while leaning back to talk to me about Ian Wright...

Staggering into the hotel at 9.30pm, I'd crossed the awake for twenty four hours stage and met up with roomie Sean Dulaney where we saw the mansion that is our room. Pictures in tomorrow's blog, I think. Anyway following a fresh up and a change of clothes we were back out and off to Cafe Noir for Ben Templesmith's pre-SDCC bash. Bart Thompson, our other roomie was  a little delayed too - he was due in at 6pm but it was now looking closer to midnight.

Ben Templesmith is a scholar and a gentleman and an all round good guy and the amount of free booze he provided was phenomenal. A good evening was spent with friends - the British contingent was there with Jamie McKelvie, Kieron Gillen, Frazer Irving and now splitter Manhattan urbanite Ben McCool. And of course ex-patriot Rich Starkings. Heidi MacDonald explained the sacrifices that people will go to to buy an iphone, Andy Schmidt explained how his East coast - West Coast moving situation was going and even Jim Lee popped by with a small entourage of women. I swear to God that he's the Hugh Heffner of comics. Except younger and, well, better looking.

Anyway there were a ton of people there, half of IDW and some people I hadn't seen in a while but after enough champagne, tequilla slammers and beer you need to sleep, especially when you're on thirty plus hours. And so it was back to the hotel room and bed.

Bart got in just before 3am...

_tonylee_

• 10:24 @sispurrier - Damn, was looking forwards to drinking with you. #
• 10:25 In bar at Heathrow waiting for plane. Can't turn back now. Okay, I know I CAN, but you get the gist... #

_tonylee_

In the O'Neills in Terminal 3. Killing time before I can board my plane in 20 minutes. Have entire 7th season of West Wing on the PSP just waiting to be watched. Huzzah for technology.

Hopefully  we'll have another update when I land at LA.

Amusing start of the day - I was up at 5.30, left the house by 6am, drove to my Dad's, he dropped me off to the airport at 8.20am. I wave him off, gather my bags and walk straight into a grinning Mark Buckingham. I'm on the 11.35 American Airlines to Los Angeles, he's on the 11.30 Virgin Airlines. We wave each other off and I proceed to stand in an hour long check in queue while satin draped Virgin Airways lovelies coo and stroke at Mark and whisk him off to the Virgin executive line for important busywhizzes.

And he's staying at the Hyatt. I hate him.