Yes, I realize this post is outrageously delayed, but you know, deadlines and all that. Girl’s gotta make a living. Anyway, here it is.
Once the library meet and greet was done, we rode the mirrored space limo back to Jordan HQ for drinks and chow. I had heard all sorts of crazy stories about the wild debauchery of MMMs past, but the evening was actually very relaxed and mellow. Butch made lots of new friends and ate way too much people food. I got to hang with Crimespree Cinema editor and fellow fightnerd Jeremy Lynch, who I love to death and don’t get to see nearly enough. Speaking of the fights, I also got to meet a fightnerd of a different stripe, former boxing judge Tom Schreck. And yes, I’ll get to the stuffed Basset Hound. All in good time, little Miss Impatient.
The day of the actual event, I managed to get myself vertical and presentable for the 9am arrival of the space limo. I wasn’t about to leave Boston Butchie alone in a strange hotel room for 8 hours, even in a dog friendly hotel like the Iron Horse, so he came to the library too. I think he had more fun than any of us.
My panel wasn’t until later in the afternoon, so I was able to loaf around, explore the surrounding neighborhood, (such as it was) peruse the stacks and chat up the librarians. I was amazed to discover that there was a shower in the staff bathroom. I had no idea being a librarian was such a dirty job that they need a full body scrub-down before they go home. Or maybe when those naughty librarians take off their glasses, pull the pins out of their hair and transform into rock-video hotties, they all get into the shower together and soap up… Wait, what was I talking about? Oh right, Murder and Mayhem.
Okay, okay, the stuffed Bassett Hound story. Well, I’m not sure who bought the plush dog for Tom Schreck, but it was life-sized and amazingly realistic. Not only that, but Tom, being a real dog person, knew exactly how to move the thing, going through all the classic doggy body postures as he made it interact with Butch. It was love at first sight. Next thing I knew Butch was humping away on his new plush girlfriend like there was no tomorrow. Yet another tawdry convention affair to be gossiped about and regretted the next morning.
After that kind of hot plushie action, Butch clearly needed to get some air. We decided to join Konrath and the legendary Beer-Behind-the-Gas-Station Brigade for their annual and ongoing winter cavalcade of fun. And beer. Neither Butch nor I actually like beer (or freezing our asses off behind a gas station in WisFuckingConsin for that matter) but I’d heard it just wouldn’t be Muskego without participation this venerable tradition. And you know what? It was actually a blast. It’s never about the booze for me anyway, it’s about the company.
When I got back in out of the cold, I ran into Kat Richardson carrying several square pink boxes containing gargantuan chocolate cupcakes given to her by a fan. Downside of being a hardboiled writer; none of my readers bring me cupcakes. Luckily, Kat was willing to share the wealth. I did not die from frosting overdose, and when it came time for the Noir panel to hit the stage, I was hopped up on sugar and ready for action.
I’m still not sure how I wound up being in charge of the panel. It was kinda like the scene in Apocalypse now where Willard is walking through this nightmarish war zone asking “Who’s your CO?” and the one soldier replies “Ain’t you?” Well, however it happened, I did end up acting as commanding officer of our little hardboiled outfit. Nobody threw tomatoes so I guess it went okay.
But the most interesting discussion of the day took place after the panel was over, in the green room. It started with labiaplasty went swiftly downhill from there. I won’t mention the Aflac duck. Oh wait, I just did. I think Jen Forbus may have been secretly videotaping this profound debate, so don’t be surprised when footage pops up on YouTube. And in case you had any doubt, it will be very NSFW.
Yes there will be one more chapter to this saga. In which I become a gay sex therapist and Judy Bobalik refuses to tap out. Wait for it…