Necon 29… aka Defcon

Ahhh Camp Necon. A gathering of friends, colleagues and drama in one tiny little state. I could tell you about the magical adventure box from hell and how it tortured us on the road trip—but I won’t. I could tell you about the road trip itself, but you really had to be there for it—SEEKONK! I could share Necon secrets and discuss rocks and bushes and spearing pumpkins, but I’m a kinder, gentler girl now and wouldn’t want to embarrass those involved. I could do an old wench-style con report, but alas, those died when I sold the site. Instead I give you the reasons that Necon is one of the best cons you’ll ever attend.

The Breakfast Club

The Breakfast Club: the bandleader, hippie, wench, jersey, just joe, princess, and the canadian… and all those missing [though talked of, loved and abused in their absence].

Friends. A comfort zone that will never be matched by a cluster-con of fans and business, of hundreds of people, of dual programming tracks. Where friends can just hang, visit, giggle and take incriminating pictures of each other. Where the notebook still lives strong and includes such gems as:

Bitter Box
Electric Boogaloo
“I can’t even 69… it’s too confusing!”
Bobbies up, smile & song
That’s no groundhog, it’s a Yeti!
“I was just keigaling”
Cleavage yodeling
It’s my publisher, not my daddy
Free magic show
Hate puppet

Like CHEERS, everyone knows your name… and that can be a bad thing. Because only friends abuse friends like Necon allows, aka The Roast. This year’s roastees were Weston and Yvonne. We heard from them, their elders, their colleagues and yes, a few of their underlings, including me. I was going to dig my claws into the audience, attacking Tom & Paul [for being wonderful], Kelly & Dan [for making us all hold our breath all weekend], Nanci [for those damn countdowns & lolcats], Keene [for not being there], etc. but decided to keep it short and to the point, and hit the nerve I’m known for hitting [with a few jabs for good measure]. For those that missed it, here’s my roast.

Yvonne… I love you [hug], no worries. The only thing I can say mean about you is that you choose to live with him

Weston… darling…

As Weston and many of you know, I used to be HorrorWench. I used to be feared.  And of all the authors in all the gin joints in all the world, only one ever whined, argued and cried about a review… [drum fingers and stare at Weston]. I don’t know why… afterall… Vampire Outlaw of the Milky Way is the only book to ever be yanked from Shockline’s “Guaranteed Good Read” list… even Matt, who will defend Pacione, Bile Dragon… PHILBIN… couldn’t stomach it. Why? Let’s review…It was a space opera… with vampires.  Filled with characters that even Captain Kirk wouldn’t bang. Dallas however…

Specifically, what killed this book? Well…  Spelled out sound effects, as in, “the air left her in a whoosh”. And the hatch sssked open… yeah, that’s spelled S-S-K-E-D. Had enough? Me too… which is why I ended the review by letting everyone know that the 6-piece mcnugget was now on the dollar menu… and then I blocked your emails.

Love you…

Between that, the Breakfast Club [and other images], and just a hint of the full notebook… you need nothing more—except your registration papers for next year. Necon 30… an anniversary… complete with brits… back on the campus… promises to be better than ever!

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