FUBARgenre: The Genre of Fubar

As usual, I’m the last to know.

“Dang it,” the news began. “I can’t go to Subic coz only ad con finalists are allowed to go,” Genee wailed one lazy night. I made tchtch sounds with my tongue to express sympathy, and then quickly moved on to other things. Just as Gen was saying goodbye, one foot literally out the door, she casually dropped the bomb: “Neil Gaiman’s gonna be there, you know.”

And I just died.

I have to go to Subic.

Neil Gaiman is a god. No other divinity, entity, being, icon, object, or lover have I worshiped as much.

I must go to Subic.

I still haven’t quite forgiven myself for missing his Manila book signing last 2005, when work and a certain Post No Bill event detained me in Cebu. (Not that I’m blaming a certain someone who badly didn’t want me to go. Threatened, aren’t you? background info: Angelina Jolie is to Mark as Gaiman is to me. We have long since agreed that if Angelina Jolie were to proposition Mark, he has my blessing to get his fill and then come back to me without remorse. I, on the other hand, will marry Neil without looking back. Our covenant stands. Right, Mark?)

I am not going to let this opportunity pass. Not this time, no. I’m all set to book my tickets and bluff my way through the ad congress.

I’ve been in awe of Gaiman since the 90s, back when I was still an angsty teen and Gaiman was more of an underground movement than an international bestselling phenomenon. I deserve a chance to worship at his feet, don’t you think?

Calling all Ad Con organizers: need a writer slash artist slash entrepreneur slash pseudo-professional geek volunteer?

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