A whale's vag-- wait, what? Part 2.

We left off with me saying "I was on vacation and you weren't so be very jealous."  Let me continue.

Oh, but first let me say that this Thursday (August 5th) all of you should go to Dairy Queen and stuff your faces with a Blizzard.  On Thursday, DQs across America are giving $1 (or more, depending on the location) of each Blizzard sold to the Children's Miracle Network.  If you don't know about the Children's Miracle Network, they are a string of hospitals across America that don't turn kids away that are sick -- everything from a broken bone to cancer.  It's worth eating some ice cream for!  Here's the website to enter your zip and see if a DQ near you is participating.

I don't know where to begin with the vacation pictures.  Let's just jump right into it.

At the trolley stop at the convention center, they had changed all the signs to Klingon.

Knitting in line.  I knit that sock all the way down the leg and turned the heel, and put it on my foot and it was huge.  I ripped it out in that line as well.

This is Maeby from Arrested Development GUSHING over Joss Whedon.  She had a comic book for him to sign.  Famous people waiting in line for famous people.  Huh.

And yes, a grave at Comic Con.  My great-grandfather is buried in San Diego, so Jesse and I took a trip and took a million photos.  Looking back, I would have taken off the temporary tattoos (of dripping BLOOD, what is wrong with me) and not worn a shirt where a guy's plumber's crack is showing.

Many of you are familiar with the website icanhascheezburger.com.  At Comic Con I found a shirt that says "I CAN HAS BRAINZ?" with a zombie cat underneath it.  You can see it in most the pictures with me in them.  Do you know how disturbing that tshirt is outside of Comic Con?

The "winners" (if you can call yourselves that) of the postcards are: (did you know I was giving out postcards to a select few commenters?  NOW YOU DO!)

Beth's husband Steve (and consequentially, Beth herself)
Joann
A.B. Keuser, who I actually know in real life and is probably wondering why she didn't get a postcard in the first place.

But now I need your addresses, so email them to me at twelvedaysold@gmail.com.  And I'm not writing them up until you send me your address, because I learned the hard way that sometimes people don't get back to you with their address even after leaving two voicemails saying you have a Christmas card stamped and ready to go.  I may be talking about my in-laws, and I may still be a bit bitter over that wasted stamp.