Cos' playing's what we do best...

(Left: Me n' Gavin Blair, creator of Reboot.)

I've just come off a weekend of pure, unadulterated nerdosity. This year's FanExpo was probably the biggest one I've ever attended, with vendors, freaks, and geeks galore.

Aside from the fantastic displays, panels, and features, including guests like Adam West, Tricia Helfer, Malcolm McDowell and Jonathan Frakes, one of the main draws of the show has become the amazing cosplayers who come out in full gear to these packed shows to strut their stuff. It is perhaps one of the only times and places outside of Halloween that I feel stupid for not wearing a costume.

This was the first time I've ever purchased a deluxe all-weekend pass that let me into some of the exclusive panels, along with the popular Masquerade, a showcase/competition of costumes.

Now, I have nothing against cosplayers. I think they're brave and courageous and talented people who are showing their fanatical support for their fandoms. I respect their fandoms and I completely understand the desire to don silly hats and full-out gear and be seen for the freak I am.

But OMIGOD, the Masquerade made me cringe so many times, I think my face and stomach are in permanent twist-tie mode. There were 68 entries, and I could only remember a handful of them because my brain decided not to deal with storing memories of the others.

Why, you ask, was it so bad? Well, there's a formula to gaining audience popularity that I think many entrants failed to understand. I thought a lot about it while hiding my face in embarrassment for the tenth guy or so to receive the "WTF?" response from the audience.

The formula--or checklist--should be as follows:

1) Recognizability: is your fandom recognized by the geek public at large? Sure, you may know all the lines from episode 26 of Fruits Basket and understand the characters inside out....but WHAT THE HELL IS FRUITS BASKET?

This may be the group of peers that would understand you best, but because there are so many damned shows and movies, especially in the anime genre, not everyone will know who you are.

Star Wars, Harry Potter, Star Trek, Sailor Moon, InuYasha, Full Metal Alchemist, Dragon Ball, Naruto, a few video game characters...think TV spoofs and you have an idea of what's popular and instantly recognizable by nerds at large.

Obscure anime and manga titles...okay, hooray for fandom love, but please, do the rest of us a favor and don't compete, especially if you're going to throw in some really lame inside joke. Which brings me to my next point....

2) Performance: this is a tough one. A lot of people understand the basic "do a little dance and get a laugh out of the horrible coordination" routine. But there's a point when it stops being funny. It's about 10 to 15 seconds into the show.

Please, for the love of god, keep it short. And stop the show at ONE laugh. If you wring even one laugh out of the audience, you've done your job. Get off the stage, for god's sake. Don't drag it out.

The acoustics in these increasingly bigger auditoriums is terrible. Prerecord your performance for the techies to play, or else learn to project and enunciate. Like this guy.

Most importantly, practice! Showmanship and stage presence is just as important as whatever it is you're trying to get across. That's why the Klingon dude in the link above was in the Master division and not the Novice one. (Really, you should watch it.)

3) Costume: you'd think this would be a no-brainer. But there were good costumes, and there were GOOD costumes. Craftsmanship counts, even if you're only being viewed from far, far away. Details like accessories and weapons add all that much more.

Pick the division that you're suited to...it's why they exist.

On another note, it helps if you look like the character you're trying to portray. I've seen fat guys in red tights pretending to be Spider-Man. Not pretty. Please, if you're going to compete, pick a costume appropriate to your physique. Or at least allow your dignity the ability to make fun of the fact that you're completely ill-suited to play whoever it is you're portraying.

Muscle suits on tiny guys are always funny. Explaining that you're Wonder Woman after forty years of beer drinking=also funny. But man boobs/three spare tires + spandex + serious demeanor=not funny.

I'd hate to say it, but as my companion pointed out, you're going to be judged when you get up on stage. Such is the nature of a large crowd of anonymous nerds. It's like being in a chatroom full of WoW geeks booing the noob. Only it's live. And so very harsh.

4) Impact: Let's face it, groups are easier to remember, more impressive, and generally put forth a more united front. Like this awesome Reboot group.

But don't group miscellaneous characters together and mash together some kind of performance (see obscure inside jokes above.) Yeah, it's funny to you, but you're almost certain to get the "WTF?" rating on your performance.

I know, I know, "what happened to picking a costume appropriate to your physique? I can't do that and be with my friends, they don't watch the show blah blah blah..." Chances are, your fandom will have a meet-up at the con. Get online, find them, and hook up. Make new friends. If you're going to compete, make it the best performance you can.

5) Have fun: kinda hard if you follow all these rules, ain't it?

Which is why the smart people seem to know not to compete. I saw a bazillion fantastic costumes that did not appear on stage, but got lots of attention and kudos for their efforts.

What, then, is the point of having a Masquerade?

Who knows? It was 2 1/2 hours of near-torture, made bearable by the tongue-in-cheek MC and the occasional entrant who made the time I spent waiting in line outside worthwhile.

The point is, we could drastically cut down the number of blah entries and increase the number of "Wow!" contestants if people just thought about it a moment. I love a good show, but I love a GOOD show, not a hide-behind-my-hands-in-embarrassment shindig.

Would I go to the Masquerade again?

The answer: yes. Simply for the fact that I can watch other people make fools of themselves, thus reminding myself that I am fortunate to be (I hope) one of the smarter people who will never compete.

Still, I wish I had the cojones to be one of them....

What I do during my spare time when I'm not writing smut...

http://community.livejournal.com/capslock_atla/180683.html



http://community.livejournal.com/capslock_atla/182910.html


http://community.livejournal.com/capslock_atla/184319.html


http://community.livejournal.com/capslock_atla/185476.html

BLLLLIIIIIINNNDDDD....

I went for an annual eye exam at my optometrist's today--my first in three years. Turns out my prescription has gone up...by a factor of 100 in each eye.

So now I'm a myopic 450/575 or so. (Actually, since I couldn't quite see the numbers, I'm only assuming that's what the prescription said.) Meanwhile, I am sitting here at my computer, squinting like my parents at the fuzziness of everything. They used those damn eyedrops to dilate your pupils until they're the size of tokens so they can check on the health of your retina. It's liquid speculum for your iris!

Check out my freaky EVIL eyes:

And no, I do not have jaundice. I played with the contrast and brightness so you could see my ENORMOUS PUPILS.

If you look carefully, the reflection of my hands looks like it's is holding it.

Off, off and away!

So, I've sent my manuscript for my first romance novel, All in the Details, off to Harlequin Silhouette.

Yay me!

Yes, I'm relieved and kinda excited, but I'm not putting all my hopes and dreams in that ginormous envelope that cost me $13.63 to send off. I'm working on more books, and even if I don't ever get published, I know I'll have at least tried.

Wait, though, this is the age of the Internets....GASP!! I CAN SELF-PUBLISH!!

And so I did. Because some of you are asking yourselves, "Vicki writes smut? I gotta see this!"

Chapter 1 is right here. Critical reviews (and praise) are welcome! Even if you hate it (and I don't expect you to love it), let me know!

Foisting off life's shit

Lately, I've been cleaning out my possessions from my parents' place and sorting them out into three and a half piles: Keep, Give away, Sell at the Sci-Fi/Anime flea market, and Garage Sale.

I've come across a few realizations as I root through all my worldly possessions:
1) I own too much shit.
2) The world produces too much shit.
3) Sentimental keepsakes make no sense when I can't remember why I'm keeping this shit.
4) Maslow's hierarchy of needs apparently includes shit.

Alas, the Star Wars memorabilia I once coveted has been rendered useless and inconsequential, considering the sheer tidal wave of crap that's come out since Episode 1 through 3 were released. So, I'm getting rid of just about all of it; that, and a lot of very hard-to-find Ranma 1/2 stuff we accumulated over time.

I'm not sure at what point things cross from treasure to trash: probably at the point when you realize, holy hell, I have to MOVE this stuff?

Sadly, by getting rid of my worldly possessions, I may be losing a few iotas of cool factor. Cuz, let's face it, how many girls do you know who own a Darth Vader life-size standie? (On sale for the low, low price of....well, we'll figure that out when you start drooling over it....)

Obligatory returned-from-vacation post

I'm back...obviously.

So how was England? you ask. Well, without going into too much detail and posting all kinds of pictures with explanations, England was beautiful. Very green. And everything sounds so much more civilized over there, even when people are telling you to piss off. (No, no one told me to piss off. Everyone was remarkably polite and kind and helpful. Maybe because of my odd and charming Canadian accent, eh?)

We stayed in Lymington, a coastal town on the Solent in the southwest region near the Isle of Wight. It's a quaint area with cobblestone streets, good shopping (they even had a La Senza), and a wharf. Lotsa boats.

Lymington's located in an area called the New Forest, famous for its protected animals. Wild horses and cows roam around freely, grazing by the side of the road without fear of cars or people. It's been like this since 1099. I shit you not.

We visited various towns, including Beaulieu, home of the third lord of Montagu whose family estate hosted a secret agent "finishing school" during WWII. (I smell a Harlequin novel...)
Once again, I shit you not.

Oh, and they had a motor museum and a James Bond exhibit there, too. Also, the Lord Montagu has gardens, a mansion, and a monorail on his grounds, open to the public for an admission fee. I want a monorail on my property....is there a Lady Montagu?

We stayed at Elmer's Court, which had spectacular grounds with pheasants and rabbits and ducks roaming around everywhere. It was exactly like what you'd read about in a Jane Austen novel, only with resort facilities. We stayed in a time-share cottage. It was very comfy.

Yes, I did eat fish and chips.
Yes, I had a Cornish pasty.
No, I did not have bangers and mash. But I did have liver and bacon.
Yes, the beer was warm.
Yes, we went to London on a whirlwind one-day tour. It was insane.

We even had our own little Hobbity adventure, trekking through the swampland on a casual "walk"--(okay, so John carried me through the muck most of the time since I was wearing sandals)--that ended up with us crawling through thorny brambles and onto private land so we could get back to the main road. The theme from Fellowship of the Ring kept running through my head the whole time...but it was so much fun.

My favourite things about the whole trip:


It was a bakery delivery truck in London. The sign reads "DRIVERS DO NOT HAVE ACCESS TO THE MUFFINS". Apparently, muffin theft is a big problem over there.

That's England in a few words. I hope I'm not expected to expand on that any further. In any case, you can see all the pictures, with captions, on my Facebook account.

Off to merry ol' England!

Eh, guvna', I'm off to seek adventure in jolly ol' England and per'aps 'ave a spot o' tea with the Queen!

Pip pip, cheerio, and other silly English colloquialisms, eh?

Be back Saturday July 21st.

End of an era....

I've finally given in and upgraded my eight-year-old cell phone handset.

Say goodbye to the brain-frying, two-tone Radiation King, and say hello to my sexy new Nokia slide phone, who I've lovingly named (*whispers*) Slider.

To protect the glass screen, I got a case the Telus guy recommended, since it was on sale for $10.
Sadly, it was made by Hummer.
I never thought I'd buy a Hummer...it was a moment of weakness....the shame of it all.....

I amz dead ppl?

On my way to work today, I looked up from my morning haze and suddenly realized that, waiting for the bus at York Mills Station, I was completely and utterly alone. Not a soul in site. The buses were emptied of passengers, the drivers nowhere in sight.

No one was waiting in line with me for the 122 Lesmill bus, a bus that is normally packed with workday communters. The driver eventually came, and for the entire trip I was the only passenger. As I sat there, staring around, wondering what parallel universe I'd woken up in, I started running through the possible scenarios in my head:

"I'm dead" theory: Just as Nicole Kidman in The Others realizes she is not alone in the house, so too did I conjecture the possibility that I was actually surrounded by hundreds of people I couldn't see, and that I was the ghost among them.

"I'm out of phase" theory: the space/time continuum has somehow been disrupted, and I've been caught in some anomaly that doesn't let me see other people. Like Beverly Crusher in that one episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation.

Abduction theory: Everyone else in the world has been abducted by aliens. Or Jesus. Whichever plot you subscribe to.

"I smell funny" theory: People are giving me a really, really wide berth today because I ate sushi last night. It's so bad, CP24 is running an on-going Vicki-radar scan to track where I am and where I'm headed so commuters can plan an alternate route. That would explain the helicopter that's been following me around...

Broken watch/sun theory: Did I wake up at the wrong time? Is today a holiday? Or a Sunday? Did the earth move? Has the sun shifted since I was asleep? Is it actually bright as day at 4:00 a.m. in the morning? You never know what those trick aliens will do while you're sleeping.

Subway delays theory: the most mundane but likely culprit. Even so, WTF? Empty bus platforms?

I've got a theory for you....

News today from Yahoo reports a Chilean lake has vanished.

They think geology did it.

But we all know it was much more sinister than that....

Thirsty megalomaniac evil terrorists, anyone?

Post 300!

THIS.
IS.
300!!

And what better way to celebrate my 300th post than by announcing that one of my fanfiction stories, The Game, previously thought to be some quaint and eccentric (excuse to be anti-social) nerd habit, has been nominated for a dotmoon.net 2006 UFO honorable mention award. Here's the badge to prove it:

Okay, so said like that, it doesn't mean much. Mind you, my story was the only Avatar: The Last Airbender fanfic nominated this year, and I've never even heard of this Web site until today. So it was pretty cool to see the e-mail in my inbox this morning from some out-of-the-blue Web site saying "Hey, someone read your stuff and thinks you're cool."

Anyhow, I'm milking this for all it's worth. When I write my author profile for my Harlequin novel, you know that's going on there....

Meanwhile, yes, I have in fact finished my Harlequin novel, tentatively titled All in the Details. A host of lovely people I've met through fanfiction.net have kindly agreed to beta-read for me.

A teaser, if you will:

Lilah Mann had to grow up fast when her father abandoned their family while she was only 17. She had to drop out of high school and work to keep a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. She'll do anything for her mother and sisters--it's what drives her to make sure her new event planning business succeeds. And she'll do anything to make it work, up to and including engaging in some questionable business practices with her newest client, the too-sexy-for-words Kent Sullivan.

But what the senior publisher of Sullivan Media doesn't know is that the spunky, elfin-haired "event engineer" is the same woman he met at a Halloween costume ball only a week ago...minus a stunning red dress and a blond wig. Can Cinderella keep her slippers under wraps, or will Lilah's Prince Charming insist on a fairytale ending?

...Admittedly, that does sound cheesetacular, but if you've read any Harlequin novels (and I insist that you do!) then you should be glad there are no nymphs, vampires, or time-travelling Highlanders in my book.

Wish me luck: I'm already starting a second book....

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooo....!!!

Battlestar Galactica to end after season 4.

*SOB*

That's all I have to say. Now pardon me while I curl up in a corner and cry.
*SOB.*

English

Interrobang: a punctuation mark that incorporates a question mark and an exclamation point--it actually looks like the two are superimposed on top of each other. It's rarely used, but is sometimes seen in British usage.

Scrutator: one who investigates.

Testate: Having made a legally valid will.

Since we're talking about the English language, I'll just take this opportunity to mention that I'm off to England for a week starting Friday. I'll be with John's family, staying in a town called Lymington, so before you call flood me with comments about high terror alerts, let me just mention that Lymington is about 60 miles away, in the southwest part of the country near the Isle of Wight.

It must be love when...

1. She pukes all over you and you don't fling her across the room.

2. You decide you really can spend hours upon hours making stupid faces at her, just to see that smile.

3. You stop referring to her as "the parasite."

4. Changing diapers becomes a skill in your eyes.

5. She has ceased tasting like turkey gravy and more like guilt.

6. Most of your conversations with her sound like this:

You: Ooja-booja-boojah! Goo-goo-goo? Heeeeee!
Her: *quizzical look*
You: Ahm-yahm-yahm eat my hand! You're a strong girl! Yes you are! You're going to eat my hand!
Her: *gnaws on your knuckle*
You: Squeeeee! Who's a funny girl? Who's making funny faces? Hmm? HMM? Goo goo goo goo....
Her: *fart*
You: YAY! Who's a gassy girl? WHO'S A GASSY GIRL??? YOU'RE a gassy girl!! Yes you are!
Her: *grin*

Happy three-monthday, Bowie!

DAEMON!

I am so psyched for the Golden Compass movie...
See a little preview teaser clip...it looks so....boooootiful....
Go find out your daemon now!

First draft picks!

OH THANK GOD, I've finally done the damn thing.

For those of you I haven't told, I've been working on writing my own Harlequin novel. I started writing it in November and I just now finished the first draft. (That thar' be a picture of me typing with my nose, since my hands fell off typing.) Yay me!

It's been six months of weekends and after-work hours in front of my computer trying to make two fickle characters hook up in a slightly conceivable and romantic fashion. Now, a number of you are probably saying, "Aw, but that's easy, all the stories follow a formula..." And while that may be true, I might add that nuclear physics also follows formulas, but that doesn't make it easy to do.

Was it hard? OH GOD, yes. Mostly because characters take on a life of their own, no matter what you try to make them do or how you make them want to act. And since my characters are often brooding, angsty, angry, bitter people with intimacy issues...well, just try to make someone like that fall in love.

Next steps are for me to edit this sucker down to under 65,000 words, the maximum word count for the series I'm pitching it to. And then I'll have to go through the arduous task of editing some more. And more. And more....

I've actually put most of this book through two to three edits already, but it's going to need a lot more spit and polish before I send it out to my beta readers (and for those of you who though fanfiction was just a hobby and would never come in handy, SUCK IT! I have beta readers!)

In the meantime, I'm looking for a pseudonym! A nom de plume, a pen name, an alias, a moniker. Why? Because Vicki So is too short on a book spine, and Harlequin readers don't go for overly-foreign names unless the story is a cultural one.

Got ideas? Come up with a list! Keep in mind, I want something borderline klassy (with a K) but not porntacular. And preferably female. If you can, keep a V in there somewhere.

Whoever comes up with the best name will win a free Harlequin book from my personal library (because I get em for free)! And if my book gets sold (crossing fingers), I'll sign a copy fer ya...it'll be worth millions of pesos one day!

Man pr0n

That's right: Harlequin makes smut for men, too.

While editing books from Don Pendleton's Mack Bolan universe, I realized just how subversively porntacular these stories are. Not in the hot and heavy engorged member kind of way: most of the time, there's never any explicit sex scenes.

In fact, most of these stories deal with international crises that a quasi-official mercenary group from Stony Man farm is usually assigned to clean up. So where's the porn, you ask?

It's in the guns. Lots of them. Big ones, little ones, and everything in between.

That's right, every shootout becomes phallusfest. The heroes barge into a heated situation, stroking their triggers to spray bullets at their enemies. They grunt and cry and groan as bursts of light and sound and force explode all around them. The ensuing orgiastic shower of shrapnel and blood always ends with the triumphant heroes standing over their litterally dozens of vanquished foes who lie twitching (post-orgasm) in pools of their own bodily fluids, dying little and big deaths.

And how do the heroes react to the death they've brought upon these nameless souls?

With a smile, of course.

I know, the gun/knife/sword/weapon as a phallic symbol is pretty old news. But if ever you need to write an essay about it, and you don't want to ready Tom Clancy, Mack is your man.

BUY THESE BOOKS...

Or get them at the library...whatever you do, just get your dirty little hands on them!


The Twlight Lord by Beatrice Small.

This third in erotic fantasy series, The World of Hetar, deals with the kidnapping of a half-faerie woman by the Twilight Lord, a big ol' baddie with--count 'em--TWO wang doodles. His mission: to impregnate her with his spawn who will herald the end of all that is good, like sunshine and puppies.

I wish I had kept up a list of quotes from this books, but let me just say this: the word "rod" is used A LOT...as in "she's been well-rodded" or "his dominant rod pulsed hotly".

Other stunning word to add to your erotic vocabulary include pleasures, manroot, and my personal favourite, rosehole.

It's in trade paperback for $17. If you have that kind of disposable income, this is a great read to stock your bathroom with, right in between that old Archie Double Digest and that issue of Playboy from January 2005.








Of course, if time-travelling Highlanders who fight evil are more your thing, read:

Dark Seduction, by Brenda Joyce.

Part of the Masters of Time series, which follows the exploits of hunky, oversexed magical guys in kilts, this erotic adventure into the 1400's (or 1600's? I can't remember...but does it matter? Warrior men in kilts! SEX!!!), Dark Seduction made me alternately laugh and cry all weekend. Laugh for obvious reason, and cry because I had to edit it.

Mass market paperback for $8. A perfect companion to the Nymph King.

Goodbye, cruel world...

Don't do it, man!

You have so much to live for!

Think about your children...like Little Billy No-Ass! You worked so damn hard to get him that seatless pool chair!












And what about your gorgeous wife....?

Wait a second! She's RIGHT BEHIND THE DOOR!

DON'T DO IT, MAN!!!


(Ahh..SkyMall makes me laugh....)

Hide your daughters

That a lot of Wangs....

*Snert*

I'm so immature.