I personally know at least one hot chick who did attend DunDraCon, but unless I’m greatly deceived about certain key elements of my life, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me.
Which isn’t to say that I’m not interested in doing my part to further this symbolic degeneration. The word "coulrophobia" is too delicious to pass up. I’m thinking of writing a short story called "Coulrophobia"; it would involve clowns (natch) and zombies (because I am who I am). And because I was listening to Steve Eley’s intro to the most recent issue of Escape Pod (where he bemoans the lack of love stories in speculative fiction), I’m thinking that my zombie clown story has to be a love story.
Maybe I can even get 1,000 words written down by the time our writers’ group meets tomorrow night.
In other news, I was amused by the little shout out to the nerd community at the end of Heroes last night, but I think they gave it away too soon by listing his name in the opening credits. They should have left it out. The joy would have been even greater.