Gothic Panda is missing

You are probably wondering where Gothic Panda is right now. Where is her zany blog post detailing her latest artsy/craftsy thingy? Where are the amusing anecdotes about her family and/or the monsters that live here? Well, that's a good question. Perhaps, it would be best to start at the beginning. Or maybe I'll just start in the middle. The beginning is boring and involves a sappy love story. So the middle it is then. The ninja cat pulled out a box of chocolate ice cream. That managed to distract Gothic Panda long enough for the alien toaster to wrap her up with her own yarn. Thankfully, it was a color she didn't regularly use otherwise she would have been very upset. There was a big flash of light and oh pumpkinfuzz...hold on. What? No, I'm not doing anything. No. I haven't seen your computer. Maybe you left it in the cave. Ok. Bye. Where was I? Oh yeah, big flash of light. Then, Gothic Panda went for pizza. They were having an all-you-can-eat buffet of pizza and girl scout cookies. And that was the last I saw of her. In the meantime, I will now tell you what it is like living in a household right before a convention. Imagine if you will a very orderly factory with everything moving along straight and clean conveyer belts in nice neat boxes. The floor is waxed to a beautiful shine. Brilliant light streams in the window. Some nice, gently music plays softly in the background. Have you got that picture yet. Yeah, nice and peaceful. Okay. Now, imagine that we have a box of rabbid squirrels dipped in paint and we've let them loose in the factory along with a herd of angry elephants armed with bazookas. Now, that's what the house looks and sounds like during convention time. Everyone is hyped up on so much sugar and caffeine in order to stay up each night trying to cram in last minute costume work, art table stuff, and other assorted devious plans. There's pins and strips of random cloth everywhere. Seriously, it looks like Jackson Pollock and Marilyn Manson painted our floor. Occasionally, one of the cats wanders into the room, stares blankly in disbelief, and then quickly hurries to the bedroom where they hibernate like bears until the damage is done. Either that or they decide to help with the costume work by vomiting all over the finished pieces when our backs are turned. They can't vomit on the proverbial tower of scraps in the middle of the room. Oh no. They pick their way to the box containing that jacket we spent six hours sewing trim onto and then...well I think you get the picture. Now this isn't to say that pre-con time isn't fun. After all, it gives me an opportunity to stay up late, say bad jokes, and then distract Gothic Panda with exotic dances. Then there's the dress-up part, which I enjoy immensely. She's just so cute. Well, I'm going to wrap-up now. Gothic Panda is demanidfthjj htyji9pjhjjk