The Celebrity Whore

4:22pm: is this thing on?
Recapping stuff:

1) Part 2 of my last post was going to be a typically book-length post about my adventures at Disneyland, but this time I'll force myself to be brief: I had a good time.

((winces))

Ahh, I hate being brief!
Continuing the list:

2) bummed that no one will make VHS anymore. I have two (two!!) VCRs and no DVD-type recording thingie. I have a large bag of old tapes that I use to tape stuff. Just because Tivo exists doesn't mean I have to subscribe to it!

3) changed jobs last June. My old company kept laying people off and asking the survivors to please be loyal.
Layoff Survivor During All-hands Meeting: "Will there be more layoffs?"
Executive: "I can't make that promise."
HR quickly spent all of its time putting together exit packages for quitters like me.

4) new job: same industry, different business model. Holy Grail jobs: Disney Corporate (but don't even JOKE about me working IN one of the parks) or Weta Workshop. The latter would require a move to New Zealand.

5) current favorite TV shows: Family Guy, American Dad, SNL, 30 Rock, My Name is Earl, Robot Chicken, Simpsons, Reaper, Battlestar Galactica, Supernatural

6) TV shows that I watch but have to drag myself to it: Smallville, Heroes, Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles

7) Favorite kind of movie: big, loud, full of superheroes.
That might explain while I still watch Smallville, et al, in spite of their lack of quality.

8) I still like swearing, but not as much as Kevin Smith does. I don't think ANYone does. Well, maybe Coen Brother characters?

9) I'm typing this while listening to the track "A Building Panic" from the Titanic soundtrack. Coincidence?

10) Maybe because I have to go out and shovel snow once I've posted this. The thing with shoveling snow is, no matter how tired, sick or injured you are, it has to be done. Period.

11) Resolved: no more Creation Conventions until I've moved back to southern California! It'll be like a present to myself. The reason is because of my own guilt about cutting into Momtime whenever I visit her. If I'm in CA a week, 3-4 days of it is spent at a convention, and that ain't fair to her. Taking a longer vacation isn't something that I'd do. I just wouldn't.

12) my real Holy Grail dream job: retirement. Instant retirement, such as from a sudden magical Megamillions windfall. In lieu of that, my only-slightly-less-realistic Holy Grail job is arts-n-crafts type. Selling my handmade stuff and making an actual, comfortable living at it!

That's not all I got, but I gotta go eat snow.

11:55am: The Celebrity Whore Does California Adventure
This happened in November. I'm a bit behind.

First, I was in California for my usual Creation-Con-has-something-in-November-I-have-to-attend gig. I don't know why all of their cons that I want to attend are in November. And in Burbank. But then, Mum also lives in southern California, so every year I use the occasions to fly out to visit her for 5-7 days, then toddle off to those damned conventions, leading her to make cracks about my spending "5 minutes" with her once a year.

This may make me seem awful, but I need two reasons before flying anywhere, no matter how much oomph any one reason has. By that I mean visiting Mum = 1 reason, albeit with plenty of oomph. Attending a con = 2nd reason. Fortunately she doesn't read LJ and I would never tell her. It's bad enough that she only sees me for 5 minutes each year.

This time there was a third reason. 2007 was my 40th year, and since I was going to be out for the usual November, Mum insisted that a Big Deal be made of my 40th, and that we make a spectacle of it. What did I want to do, she demanded? Being the auster adult that I am, no longer taken with fanciful diversions, I had two requests: Disneyland. And a meal at the Blue Bayou, the only full-service restaurant inside the park. I used to live in southern Cal and had visited the park pretty much every year that I lived there (29 or so), but had never eaten at the BB. Reservations are most definitely required, you see, and I kept forgetting that, visit after visit. The BB happens to be in my favorite "land," too: New Orleans Square. Not just that, but inside of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride itself - the loading area, that is. Boats would drift by as we ate. But I get ahead of myself.

( First, D-land's lesser sibling )

3:54pm: I will never be in a position where James Lipton will be asking me what my favorite swear word is, so I'll just post it: clusterfuck. I suppose it's not really a "swear word," per se, since it's just a noun, like "snafu," describing a situation that's messed up and (so far) isn't used as an adjective, verb, or exclamation. But it has the word "fuck" in it, so on that basis, it'll count.

I just think it's a funny-sounding word, especially when uttered by a former coworker who otherwise sounds like Minnie Mouse, and on the other end, spat out by a South Boston coworker during a "don't get me stahted!" rant. Ironically enough, the rant was very helpful to cheer me up after I'd called her with the news about one of my sister's death last year. Becauee I'd gotten her stahted, the rant about our work went on for at least 20 minutes, and let's face it: some accents are naturally funny when part of a tirade. South Bostonian is one. For my britpals, I would much rather hear Craig Charles or Billy Connolly on a tear than Jude Law.

That said, the other day my Local Sis was on the phone, and every 4th word or so was some variation of "fuck." It's too bad she'd already told me that her 8-year-old was at a sleepover, because eventually I interrupted with, "Even if you hadn't told me (she) is away tonight, I can tell that she's not around because of all the 'fucks.'"

At which point she veered off into a love letter to swearing. She loves swearing, and not necessarily because "the kid's away." Pre-child, she especially loved swearing with the boys (mostly salesmen) at her former work, and had been irritated when they'd clammed up around her out of some deference to her womanhood, no doubt. Once she called them on that, she was allowed into their Curse Club, I guess. During our call I admitted that I, too, enjoy swearing, and probably squeeze out more than I should (albeit quietly/conspiratorially) at work. But you know, what the fuck.

Granted, there is too much of a good things in all cases, and I do find movies/TV whose dialogue consists mostly of swear words to become tedious very quickly. Hence my "falling out" of sorts with Kevin Smith. His dialogue got to be too much for me, I'm afraid. I also got sick of him finding ways, no matter what he was writing about online (blogs, etc), to gush about how much he loves fucking his wife. Yeah, you, uh... go, guy? And just as well that I've never subscribed to H-fucking-BO, but did catch about 5 minutes of The Sopranos in a hotel one night. I vastly prefer the MadTV sketch about it, showing what episodes would be like if it aired on, say, Pax.

Yes, there are folks who see no purpose to swearing, get no pleasure out of it, don't like hearing it, etc, etc. Then I've already replied for you! Ain't I fucking nice!

5:59pm: The floodgates have not opened
I so rarely post these days that I figure that anything I write about that's way out of character for me falls under the category of "You did that?? YOUUUU?!?! Where did this come from?!?"

So.. no replies to that effect, please. I already have the script in my headfor them. Anyway, the way out of character thing was a few months ago, when I sang "All For the Best" (from Godspell) during church. For those of you unfamiliar with that particular ditty, it's a duet inspired by vaudevillian tunes, and is complicated thanks to the final round being a duet where the singers are singing two different melodies. I forget the official term for that sort of song.

( Some men are born to live at ease... )

7:14pm: Ladies' Men
Any time that I stumble upon articles advising men how to score with the Lay-dehs (running the gamut of just getting a number, to humping them within a half hour), or on very rare occasions, encounter men who claim to "love all women" and that they can bag any babe, etc, I secretly wish that just once, one of those guys would try their so-called failsafe charms and tactics on me.

Well, not secretly anymore, cuz I just told you. This isn't out of any desire to crush their nassive egos with my pinky and be the one gal that they can't fuck on the first date, but just plain old curiosity. I want to experience firsthand just what's so wonderful about their methods. Trouble is, even those one or two guys that I've encountered who "love all women" ... well... don't seem to love me, too. Basically, they told me all this stuff like I was one of the guys already. Did they expect me to ask for advice? To ooh and ahh? To challenge them to a duel? Who knows. Maybe just saying "I love all women" was their entire method.

I have no need to go on at this point and speculate on why none of the Ladies' Men will ply their trades on me. I'd have a pretty crappy self-awareness to have no clue why I don't attract any man, let alone the Ladies' Men. But it'd be interesting to at least have an encounter with one, like I said above, just to see what all his self-proclaimed fuss is about. And no, absolutely none of them could coax a one-night stand out of me. That much is certain.

6:10pm: A coworker who's been living with her man for a million years is now sporting a 'gagement ring, so I said something like, "Apparently you're engaged now."
She: "Yeah, it was bound to happen, we've been living together so long."
Me: {{bon mot about her casualness about it}}
She: "It was either this or a plasma TV."

Ohwhuh? She wanted a teeny engagement ring instead of a plasma TV? wtf is wrong with chicks? "It's what HE wanted," was her excuse. Come on. Like she never watches anything. Or maybe she only watches "Monk." I'm still boggled.

She added something about "six months of paperwork." Nah. Still boggled.


Now if it were a choice between our own version of the Yankee Workshop or a plasma TV for my engagement thingie, that would indeed be a tough call.

7:06pm: Am I the only one who doesn't give a crap about the Harry Potter books?


I watch the movies, exactly once, then move on to other things.

2:06pm: The Celebrity Whore Does BSG, 3
Sunday, August 27, 2006

This was Friday's entry. It should be read first. You know, for, like, setting the scene and stuff.
This was Saturday's entry. It should be read second, especially since there was a bit of a time gap between it and this post. {{sigh}}

( Man created the Cylons. They rebelled. Then they had eggs and sausage. )

( Explosions, Pictures, Q & A, Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves )

( Move 'em out (Head 'em up!) Head 'em up! (Move 'em out) Move 'em out (Head 'em up!) Rawhide )


I lied. Sunday's wasn't shorter at all.

12:23am: The Celebrity Whore Does BSG Again
Saturday, August 26, 2006

This was Friday's entry. It should be read first. You know, for, like, setting the scene and stuff.

I thought I should mention that attending a BSG rather than a Farscape con is a Bold New Venture for me. I was pretty much starting over here. Although I always attended FS cons alone, mostly the same folks would be attending, too, so at least there’d be minor reunions. Even many of the actors recognize me by now, and I’d been able to give them goodies and such. Some of them even hadn’t packed away their Doll Doctor dolls into deep storage. Life was good with those folks. A Celebrity Whore’s dream, y’know? Yet still she doesn’t have any of their phone numbers or personal email addresses.

But y’know, Claudia Black will likely never sign anything again, not even at a Stargate con, so I can’t keep going year after year in the hope that she’ll relent. Too many evil fans have ruined it for the rest of us. I can only afford one trip to California per year, which I also use to visit my mother and Disneyland, in that order. Not visiting Disneyland while in CA is not an option. With only one trip across the US as an option, though, this time I decided to play with the new toy. Please forgive me, Farscape!

Click the cut at your own risk. This one is long even by standards.

( Man created the Cylons. They rebelled. Then they rebel-yelled. )

( Events in the schedule are closer than they appear )

( Welcome to Celebrity Speed-Dating )

Current Mood: tired

2:36pm: The Celebrity Whore Does BSG
Friday, August 25, 2006

Scenario: flying from Boston to Burbank, California for Creation’s Battlestar Galactica con. If not familiar with recent news, the old 80’s show that was cancelled in two seasons or whatever, was remade. And it was good. They even sort of shut up Richard Hatch’s incessant prattling about reviving the show the cheesy way that it used to be by giving him a juicy recurring role on the show.

( Off we gooooo, into the wild, blue buttstain... )

6:53pm: Movie thoughts - Superman Returns
With summer comes the movies that I like best: big, expensive, loaded with special effects, light hearted, and preferably comic-booky. Yes, law-abiding citizens, I AM the lowest common denominator responsible for indie films remaining indie.

But rather than review said movies, I thought I'd throw out the various thoughts going through my head as I watched them.

And I'll even cut it on accounta there being spoilers, kinda.

( Up... Up... and Away... )

4:07pm: Fine, I'll marry you, Keanu. Now shut up
Keanu Reeves has been making the mag rounds lately, lamenting that he's lonely and wants to get married and have kids. Actually, I think that he just wants kids and "a companion." I keep forgetting that, for celebrities, legal commitment is optional.

I remarked to the coworker who'd first alerted me to his personal crisis that fine, I'd marry him, but no kids. He can grow them in the yard or whatever it is people do to have kids, as long as I'm not involved with it.

I tease, but believe it or not Mr. Reeves is actually on the Celebrity Whore's list of celebrities that she'd like to meet. I will not give up on my dream of one day befriending a celebrity, and I don't mean "Oh, yeah, s/he totally remembered me at the last convention," but actual befriendament. Or something. I know how shallow that makes me seem. I don't care.

( There's nothing interesting for the rest of the post, either )

3:35pm: stuff
So last year was my year of self-improvement. Well, to an extent. I haven't actually lost the 70+ pounds that I need to in order to be a normal weight, but have hovered around 20. I lost the 20 on Weight Watchers through work, but since the other schendricks wouldn't sign up for a second session, there went the weekly weigh-in that hovered over our heads like Damocles' sword. It was the inherent trauma of not having made any progress being logged into their official records that was my main incentive. Just wanting to lose weight is a much smaller part of it. Doing the online program ain't the same. Sign up again, you schmendricks!!

Plus side: haven't gained it back. So I can wear Large shirts if I want to and one size smaller pants. But not quite the so-called XL 2003 shirt from Disneyland for the Nightmare Before Christmas Haunted Mansion ride. Extra Large indeed. For which species? Damn you, Disneyland!

( More boring crap within )

8:17pm: Wow. I haven't posted in many moons
I have lots to say and often think of stuff to post, but never quite gather the interest to actually do it. Plus, this site being completely blocked at work doesn't help. I don't usually post from home because I'm too tired and my dialup is too slow.

Yes, I still have dialup. And no cellphone, no call waiting, no caller ID. I can write complex SQL statements, but can't grasp new telecommunication technology at all.

Hope that's good enough to keep my account from getting deactivated or something.

5:49pm: The Celebrity Whore Does Burbank (again) - Sunday
If wondering if these reports will ever end, they have to, because Sunday was the last day of the con. Or for those just joining us, the Burbank Farscape con of 2005. Go back and read the first two posts to get the full story arc of this trilogy.

More Miscellaneous
A Scaper on my floor had hung up a Peacekeeper flag outside of her door, and over the course of the con, guests had been stumbling through the halls and had been signing it. The flag ended up with four that I knew of (Lani, Raelee, Rebecca Riggs and I think His Eminence). It immediately became my tradition to shake my fist at it in a mock jealous rage each time I passed it to and from my own room. What? Since when have I ever presented myself as a heroine in my own story?

( Shaddup and finish this, already )

Excelsior!

9:10pm: The Celebrity Whore Does Burbank (again) - Saturday
The Thursday/Friday post precedes this one, so if you want chronological order, go back one space. Lose a turn.

Saturday
I got up before the roommates again. I'm starting to think that, even though I've lived on the East Coast near 8 years now, I'm still on West Coast time. Back home it takes every ounce of my self-discipline (and I have little to begin with) to drag myself from bed at 6:30 am, after 3 or 4 snooze alarms, and yet the whole week in California, I was getting up at 6:30 without any alarms. In other words, getting up at 9:30 EST is natural for me; 6:30 EST is not, since apparently my body has never stopped thinking of it as 3:30 PST. ADJUST, DAMN YOU! ADJUST!

( But enough about fucked up body clocks. )

1:03am: The Celebrity Whore Does Burbank - again (Thur/Fri)
It's true that I'd skipped the Burbank Farscape con last year, but I wasn’t disappointed with the Jersey Thanksgiving con a mere week afterwards, or as I like to call it the Leftovers Con. I mean, really - it was after Thanksgiving, and only some of the FS guests were there. The leftovers, you know. I suspect that there wasn’t one this year, though, since the Creation Gang must've realized that working through a major holiday is most non non heinous.

That said, I had no choice, really, but to fly out to Burbank again this year, but to be fair, there were also mothers to visit. Since time with Mum would be truncated because of the con, I spent almost all of my pre-con time with her, at the expense of pretty much everybody else I knew in California. I figured that I needed to give her preferential treatment in that regard. Of course, one could argue that I should have stayed a full two weeks, with only a few days devoted to the con, but that’s a matter of having the appropriate amount of vacation time accrued.

( So come on everybody; here we goooooooooooo... )

1:39pm: Finding Nimoy
Yes, I’ve been away for a million years. Since work sucks me dry, I spend my so-called spare time desperately trying to finish Doll Doctor commissions, which, thanks to work sucking me dry, can take over a year to finish. And then another commission comes in...

The Celebrity Whore has actually taken in two other cons prior to whichever one I described last, and this one about to be described. But best to leave those tales untold, I suppose. As for this tale, the CW is on vacation with Mum, so does have time to sort of catch up on LJ stuff.

( Come on, everybody: here we goooooooo )

PS – Actually, this was finished 4 days after getting back from vacation. Heavy sigh.

1:06pm: Why can only reptiles have two heads?
We've got two-headed snakes, lizards, turtles... So what about mammals, huh? Hm? Huh? Hm? HuhHmHuhHmHuhHmHuhHmHuh?

Oh, sure, some non-reptiles are born with two heads, but die, like, 15 seconds later, if they last that long. Reptiles have all the fun psycho-genes.


This message brought to you by one of the very few "Cops Finding Horribly Abused Aminals" shows on Aminal Planet.

3:31pm: Fellow Veggies! To my aid, quickly!
I'm craving meat!

10:21pm: 63 Bits and Bobs About Me
Idea snurched from Ms. Virginia Hey’s earlier posting, called “100 Bits and Bobs About Me.” Like Ms. Hey, I could go on 100 times, but stopped at 63 to spare you lot. Aren’t you glad I cut the list instead of posting the whole thing at once, though?
( Come on everybody! Here we gooooooooo... )

Yes, I know. It’s been, like, totally forever and stuff since I’ve posted.

12:25pm: Unaccustomed as I am to memes....
I got this from wiccachik, who got this from ???, who got this from ###, who got this from &&&,....

( The 'I've Never' Drinking Game!! Okay, not really... )

I don't get out much.

12:58pm: Basic update stuff
Still not much time for (and, I admit, decreasing interest in) posting, but here goes:


Employment Report
Despise the commute. I hate the commuter rail, I hate going up and down stairs to take the subways, I hate walking across the street (Causeway) amid the swarm of locusts people to the sound of angry car horns. Yes, car horns can sound angry.
Total commute, from time that I leave the house to when I get home: 12 hours (7am - 7pm)
Work demands considerably more than I'm emotionally wired to give. This is because there's nothing enjoyable about it, so it becomes 100% "work," and I will always be miserable until I'm able to not have to work.
Dream job, if there is such a thing: artist
Chances of any sudden windfalls rescuing me from having to work: None
Age when I'll be able to retire at the rate that I'm saving: 128
I have no marketing skills or business acumen whatsoever. I can make the product, but have no idea how to sell it. Or myself, most importantly. This is why it took me 1 1/2 years to find work after being laid off.

Weather
My work's "snow day" policy is this: There are no snow days. Ever.



EVER.
And yet for some reason they continue their cruel practice of having a hotline to call.
When it snows, I have to get up at 5am in order to shovel in time to make the train. Which is often then late. I thought that most people would stay home, leaving the parking lot much less crowded, but it turns out that even MORE people take the trains to work on snow days, to avoid driving. You can tell who those folks are because they don't know where to stand on the platform.
Mother thinks that I'm going to get a heart attack if I continue shoveling my own driveway, which I have no choice but to do. It comes down to her wishing that I had a man, since they're so much stronger than we are and have more betterer muscles and stamina than women do. Ask her to explain it.

Health Watch
I have the flu. Since starting public transportation 4 months ago, I've been ill 4 times. Prior to that I always drove, and loved it (yes, even when traffic was bad, I preferred it to public). And rarely got sick. In fact, I used to brag about having a super immune system. Now I know I was just isolated. Or something.

Doll Doctor stuff
As I said above, I can make the product and do have orders, which I work on during the few hours I have when I get home, but I'm not fast enough to chuck it all and do this full time. It is my respite from the "real" work, though. When I'm not playing Zoo Tycoon 2, that is.


That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

9:03pm: Oh. Right. I have a LiveJounal.
Uh...

Stuff has happened since December 2, I guess. I still work (yay) in Boston (blech! ptooey!) and have to commute by train (long bout of projectile vomiting).

The rest is just details. Must logoff now and attempt productivity.

9:40pm: The Celebrity Whore Does Secaucus
Secaucus, New Jersey, that is.

Prologue: this is regarding Creation's Thanksgiving Star Trek/Farscape Musical Extravanganza. A few weeks prior, I contacted one of the honchos at Creation and offered to make a few plush dollies for their charity breakfast thingie. Plushes don't take as long to make as the 12" custom action figures, and normal humans can actually afford them. So for several weeks I spent every waking moment outside of my full-time job, including shoving the materials into a bag and working on the commuter train, weekends, all the way through Thanksgiving (ignoring my family members along the way) until the Plushies were DONE, DONE, DONE. I was donating PlushJohn, PlushAeryn (both with removable pulse pistols, and PlushChiana. Not enough time for a PlushD'argo.

Even More Prologuey: Creation's TST/FME guest list this year consisted of Leonard Nimoy having Saturday almost all to himself, and then Anthony Simcoe, Gigi Edgley and Ben Freaking Browder dividing up Sunday. Why is Ben's middle name suddenly "Freaking?" Well, it was advertised that he'd finally be signing things, which is almost as rare as Claudia Black signing, who by this time probably won't even sign her own checks, so I flung some e-mails posthaste to my friends, blaring that "Ben Freaking Browder is finally signing things! Do what you will, but I must go!" Henceforth I shall refer to him as "BFB."

( Saaaturday... at the Con... )

( My Donut with Anthony )

( She's starting to shimmer... )

( Intermission! )

( Heeeeeeeeeere's TONY! )

( Smile- FLASH! Next! )

( Strum Strum Strum )

( Ben, the two of us need look no more... )

( Keep the line moving! )

And the Whore got home in time to get... well, some sleep. Many thanks to Creation, CreationGary, and his minions for making it an A-1 experience. And I wasn't even in that seat!

PS - Atomicpagan's and Ctegan's missions were also accomplished! They finished and distributed the conbooks!