Dispatch from Pittsburgh

My source in Pittsburgh tells me that Anthrocon is off to a flying start. There's a get-acquainted mixer on Thursday night where the attendees, in various stages of fursuit, may get their dance on:

Happy Mother's Day, Darling Part II: Make Room for Cousins

Photo courtesy of Awkward Family Photos, with a tip of the hat to Dr. Monkey V. Monkerstein, for providing me with this perfect time-waster.

Finally...

Wednesday afternoon, New Year's Eve, brought another envelope in the mailbox.

"If you're not busy, stop by and ring in the New Year with us. We have a new fondue recipe, and we plan on toasting the New Year with Sahara Highballs and Andre Cold Duck. We'd love it if you could join us.

It's been a non-stop party over here since Christmas. We put a couple more Polaroids in the envelope so you could see what you've been missing."

And there they were. More Polaroids:


We kept the blinds down and the lights off on the side of the house facing the neighbors that night. I nursed my nagging cold with champagne and stuffed mushrooms that my bride thoughtfully prepared for me. We huddled together and watched Death Race, Blades of Glory and What Happens In Vegas, all the while nervous that the neighbors might knock on the door looking for us if they saw the flickering blue light of the TV set through the blinds. Fortunately, we were left alone and greeted the new year in a subdued but comfortable fashion.

We saw no sign of them on New Year's Day.

This morning my bride returned to work, and I took the girls for chicken and waffles at Kitsch'n after I got a haircut. When we got home a realtor was hammering a "for sale" sign into the neighbor's front yard. The house was obviously and suddenly vacant. There were a few black plastic trash bags by the back porch, waiting to be carried out to the curb. I noticed a couple pieces of paper blowing across my driveway; on closer examination they were nothing but unused Polaroid backing papers.


Our long holiday season nightmare was over.

More awkward

Sensing that our quick retreat from their home was only a result of my bride's discomfort, the mister next door decided that some extra effort was called for.

An envelope was left in our mailbox. Inside was this handwritten note:

"Erotic photography is not just about what turns the men on--it's also for the foxy ladies."

He included a couple of Polaroids by way of demonstration.

Awkward

We have some neighbors who we don't see that often. They seem nice enough. They both put off kind of a retro vibe--she's got some big blonde hair, and he's got some rocking 70's style sideburns. Their house is a homey riot of paneling and shag carpeting, and on the rare occasions we've been inside they've always offered fondue and Harvey's Bristol Cream.

I had just gotten done cutting up all the cardboard boxes and I was taking them out to the recycling bin when I heard my neighbor calling out to me. He said he and the missus were pretty excited about one of their Christmas presents and wanted to know if we'd join them for some drinks later that afternoon. I said ok.

My bride and I strolled over around 3. We knocked on the back door and we heard a cheery "come on in, we're in the front room" from inside.

Once we made it into the front room we discovered that the present they were excited about was their new Polaroid Land Camera. We were greeted by the sight of the mister in his shorty velour bathrobe, Tiparillo dangling from his lips, clicking away with the Polaroid while the missus modeled for him.


That was awkward.