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Monday, March 12, 2012

A day at 'Days of the Dead' horror con

By virtue of its creepy, calculated un-weirdness, Peachtree City, Ga. is super fucking weird. The landscape is so well-manicured, the residents so ostensibly upstanding that none of us will be shocked when we find out that prominent townspeople have been performing black masses and ritual sacrifices in the basement of a local church, right? Also, they let unsupervised children drive around in golf carts, which is terrifying.


Horror fans filled the Wyndham Peachtree Conference Center's bright n' shiny shinyparts for Days of the Dead Atlanta, a weekend of fun and fellowship amongst people who have, at some point, m-bated to the films of Herschell Gordon Lewis, et al.

I really love horror movies. I really, really love the B, C, and D-list celebrities who are in horror movies. When I saw the line-up for Days of the Dead, I pooped a little: Bill Moseley , Gary Busey, Gary's offspring Jake Busey, P.J. Soles, Rowdy Roddy Piper, and my personal hero Sid Haig.

After my boyfriend and I ogled/mocked the attendees (one of whom cut the ass cheeks out of her jeans ala Baby Firefly in "House of 1000 Corpses-slash-"The Devil's Rejects"), briefly sat-in on a lame tattoo contest (the tattoos weren't lame, but it's hardly a thing that's suited for spectating), and purchased beers from a surly hotel bartender, we spent most of the afternoon in the conference rooms where the celebrities were seated at tables to sign autographs for and take pictures with fans.

A thing that was equal parts disappointing and depressing — and that I would have been prepared for had I ever been to a con before — is that pictures and autographs cost money.

Gary Busey is scarier than any horror movie ever (see here), but I thought, "How fun to have a photo taken with him. How brave everyone will think I am." Then I saw that autographed 8x10s cost $20 and you had to buy one in order for Gary to pose with you, and I laughed and laughed and took this picture of him posing with strangers who have more disposable income than I do:


Sid Haig was also selling $20 8x10s and I'm pretty sure you were supposed to buy one if you wanted a picture with him. I didn't do that. Instead I ran behind his table (granted, after waiting in a lengthy line), swung my arm around his shoulder, and had my boyfriend take the picture before he could protest. See:


The real highlight of the day was meeting P.J. Soles, the quintessential early-'80s bitchy teen who is the opposite of a bitch in real life. We waited in line, really, just to meet her, shake hands and say hello, but she insisted we each take a picture with her. And she flattered us. "You're a beautiful couple," she said. "You guys could be models." So sweet. And definitely a testament to the sheer number of basement dwellers she sees on the con circuit. Also, she looks great:


To be safe, we escaped Peachtree City before nightfall.

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