Aug. 31, 2003 - 4:39 p.m.

In which our plucky young zero escapes from the planet of the awake.

First, I wish to apologize publicly, as I've already apologized privately, for sniping at the rooming budget. As CB points out, they didn't have to pay for me to be here in the first place.

On the other hand, I must say that the combination of inadequate sleep and street food is impairing my enjoyment of panels and such. I meant to go to a number of panels this afternoon, but I've spent it here in the Internet Lounge, trying to remember enough of my bookmarks to check up on them properly. (Not to mention a terminak [sic] that, when updating DL's text composition window, does so at a rate of about 1 letter per second. And that's when it's being particularly cooperative.)

Apparently, quick food and little sleep is the normal way to experience a con. In my opinion, I haven't been missing much.

There's another size site being selected this year — that of the 2005 NASFic (North American Science Fiction Convention), Worldcon itself being in Glasgow that year. But I can't be bothered voting on it, I've decided — as I've said before, I'm surprised how much effort it takes to care.

I'm going to sign off and meet the 'rents for a change of shirt and an early dinner before the Hugos. Tomorrow, I'll update you on the results of all those votes. Understand: it's not you, it's me.

-30-

last time, on The Slack Shack - our next inciting exstallment