Indeed, I shall be there, but alas I've yet to get a suit. I will, however, be bringing my shit-eating grin, my lust for a new societal world order, and my boyfriend. If I am not wearing something flashy then dear god, I've gone awry. Or am quite hungover--but that would only be the case should I the chance to sober up.

I don't live furry because normal society has rejected me. I live furry because Sherwood Forest landed on us! And as God as my yiffness, I will never go bald again, nor shall the children run through the streets naked and starving; they are dying and all I do, all I ever do, is sit on my ass whistling dixie because it only takes a dollar a day to feed an entire nation of starving pikachus, how do they hunger for the flesh of the meek, the willing, the misguided skinny young boys with father issues and a predilection for dresses, fisting, and teddy bears. Yes, I have seen it all and it has not seen me--not yet.

No, not yet.