Traveling Fandras 2: Electric Boogaloo

Where, oh, where has my Fandras shirt gone

Where, oh, where could it be?

With @RealSmarticus, of course!

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Time, Time, Time, See What’s Become of Me

So I’ve blogged two days in a row (!) and it feels weird not to do it today. But I have to get ready for work 15 minutes ago, so nothing substantial is coming out of this brain. And I really thought I’d catch up on a lot of this while my wife was out of town, but I feel like I had even less free time than when she’s here! Hopefully in the next few weeks, here are the things you have to look forward to.

  • More in my new favorite blog installment, Monica’s Unnecessarily Long and Detailed TV Recaps (just for Wynonna Earp and not Orphan Black, evil friend who keeps telling me to write about OB)
  • More updates on the #TravelingFandras movement (and when I buy my new shirt, because that’s definitely gonna have to happen. Maybe I can crowd-fund it!)
  • My inability to choose normal blog titles (but Susanna Hoffs, am I right?)
  • Finally finishing blogging about my wedding in 2015 (sorry, honey)

  • Finally writing about ClexaCon and this amazing, epic photo op

  • Also this one

  • And this one, which is in some ways the most important one

Hope to see you soon, friends.

Traveling Fandras

What happens when you are talking via Twitter DM with someone you met one time at a con and she expresses sadness that she wasn’t able to get a Fandras shirt before traveling overseas? You overnight your Fandras shirt to her, of course, because that makes an excellent story.

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Pictured — Emily Andras so angry with me, she will exact her revenge several months later by blocking me on Twitter for 36 hours. “Accidentally.”

After a quick trip to the post office the next day, Heather (@RealSmarticus) has my blessed “original” Fandras shirt the day of the premiere and is ready to make stuff happen. I, of course, am going through Fandras withdrawal, but this Earper will push on.

First, I got proof of life shipping success.

fandrasheather

THANK YOU, USPS.

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