Tiny Mulder - and our JennyPop - might draw strange looks in public, as JennyPop - and the odd cohort - position him hither and thither; yet, he doesn't mind the judgment. She doesn't mind either. TM is out there and loving it! Drinking in the atmos of pubs and bars, here and abroad, surveying the pumpkin pie and pressies at Thanksgiving dinner and on Christmas mornings, TM will be relegated to a dank, FBI basement no longer. Today, and forever, Tiny Mulder is ... at large! Go forth and find the truth, my tiny friend.

Published in Recent Posts
Wednesday, 10 August 2016 19:41

SDCC 2016 Slideshow: Are You Hip Enough?

Maybe my focus was on all the supa kawai'i Sanrio merchandise. (Have you met Hello Kitty's friend, Gudetama the Lazy Egg?! Please, leave me alone.)

Wednesday, 29 July 2015 08:00

Dr. Lucy's Famous Slideshow: SDCC 2015

Okay, kittens. Comic-Con is now truly a fait accompli. The turquoise nail polish has finally been removed, my Lucy Van Pelt dress has been laundered and tucked away neatly in the costume trunk, and my official SDCC 2015 Souvenir Book with has been shelved in the office with all previous years' publications.

For those whom attend, the memories of San Diego Comic-Con (SDCC), or any Con, never truly fade. Even as years pass, and, perhaps, specifics get cataloged into the wrong Con, the people, adventures, and costumes, never leave our mushy, grey databases. For those whom don't attend, or for those free moments you have and wish to relive it all, I present to you Dr. Lucy's Famous Con Slideshow!

 

To quote Larry Daivd, "It's enough already." Sure, it seems fun: these slow, warm, lazy, final days of summer in the sand and surf. Mid-April of the year, I could barely wait to toss off the Hugh Hefner smoking jacket and J. Crew plaid flares. Now, deep into September (standard SoCal heat wave season) I've donned neither real shoes nor actual clothing in months: the de rigueur uniform for April-September around here is a bikini and a Tahitian bark-cloth sarong. As a rule, unless absolutely necessary, like Kevin Dillon's Entourage character Johnny Drama, I do not venture inland April-October; if I really must, I hydrate well. (Legend has it today was 108 in the Inland Empire. No thank you.)

It's too hot to eat anything and my hair has reverted to its natural, Polynesian-frizz state. I blame Dad's Hawaiian genes. Despite copious amounts of Aveda anti-humectant pomade and Kiehl's "deeply restorative" saffron hair oil, all I can bear to do is whip up my wet blanket of locks into a neat, tight, ballerina bun. In the midst of our current, heinous heat wave, I've given up trying to style myself on any level, leaving me fashioned more like a cross between Rebecca De Mornay in Lords of Dogtown and a wet seal. My preferred, vintage mode of Dita Von Teese-meets-American Hustle shall have to wait. I will concede, however, that nighttime around here smells glorious in the summer, despite being too hot to actually sleep: the evening air conflates with the aroma of bonfires, salt air and suntan oil. It smells like a delivery truck of Hawaiian Tropic SPF2 crashed and spilled all over a Yosemite campground.

Sweet smells of coconut or no, I am done. Done with summer. If you follow my blogs, books and bewildering Tweets regularly (Thank you, BTW!), you know well of my linen-thin tolerance for picture-perfect, postcard weather. To be sure, I can do the bikini & martini thing when the situation calls for it; I can do summer with the best of them! It's just not my altogether gig. Oh sure, to quote Alec Baldwin (commenting on Jerry Seinfeld's charmed life, but apropos here), my life does seem to be "one unbroken boulevard of green lights". 'Tis a grand life, no doubt ... but I need some rain, snow and viable change-of-seasons once in a while. I crave a good old-fashioned, Seattle-style, clam chowder-and-Guinness, incessant kind of rain. Besides, sunscreen is bonkers expensive; my sundry fund needs a break.

Colour me whiny, but this is my traditional, late-summer rant. I imagine fellow Spooky Girls, Kat Kinsman (CNN's Eatocracy writer,) and Rebecca Lane (pretty half-Brit, vintage gal and L.A. actress à la Old Hollywood) understand fully. Right now, in their funky noggins they're scheming Hallowe'en costumes, dusting off Bettie Page cap-toe shoes and shaking out vintage, velvet opera capes, just waiting patiently for the right day to wear it all. (Lucky for Ms. Kinsman, she lives in Brooklyn. She should have cool weather very soon.) Thankfully for us California Spooky Girls, October, and Halloweentime at Disneyland, are only a tad further nigh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I can, I will dash to the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland, to assuage my Gothic and autumnal needs. Film and TV like Sleepy Hollow, Midnight in Paris, It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, Hocus Pocus, Northern Exposure, The X-Files and Charmed keep my psyche in Gomez Addams-style, Burberry velvet blazers, patent leather boots and vintage homburgs. There's also a score of literature and art to keep Moi excited about an East Coast autumn: Nathaniel Hawthorne, Phaedra Weldon, Anne Rice, Edgar Allan Poe, Tonya Hurley, Katherine Howe and, of course, old, Charles Addams comic books.

In case you're feeling a tad sun-stroked yourself, please enjoy my slideshow above: a smattering of delightfully gloomy and wintry imagery for the sunny/Gothic soul. Snaps of rain, dark skies, puppies in sweaters, Vikings in scarves, cozy autumn mode, Jack-o-lanterns, ravens, ghost pirate-ships, drippy candleabra, black-lace parasols and Johnny Depp ... Spooky Girls always like Johnny Depp.

#SpookyGirls #autumnwatch

Published in Blog Archive

"Normality" reigns once again: only the corset welts remain and, thankfully, those are fading fast. (Beach parties are never far off around here; always lurking in the shadows, like Homey the Clown with a sock full of nickels in a dark alley. Ka-pow! Guess what? You're going to a luau, girl! Damn it. Where's my parasol?)

 

Picture it ... early-morning Saturday, March 15, 2014: San Diego Comic-Con Badge Quest

  • 6:00a.m. Awakened ceremoniously with rousing rendition of John Williams' Star Wars Theme, performed by Boston Pops
  • 6:15  Fully awake, finally, after repeats of Star Wars Theme
  • 6:20  Espresso
  • 6:30  Text cohorts in NorCal, registration codes and Member IDs ready to go
  • 6:35  Re-read official CCI email re: SDCC badge-sale
Remember, there is no need to rush to the landing page at 7:00 AM! You can enter the waiting room two hours before the sale begins [ at 9:00 AM] or 10 minutes before the sale begins, and your chances are the same. Your wait time is up to you!

 

 

Well, cats, as Porky Pig struggles to declare, "Th-th-th-that's all, folks!". San Diego Comic-Con 2013 is a wrap. The big burg with the filthy mayor and the small beachtown chill is back to it's groovy, mellow, peaceful ways. (Save for trying to oust said-filthy mayor. What a loony, dangerous maroon!) The air around the Convention Center smells like salt air once again; the trademark smell of The Con hovering somewhere over Santa Fe by now. What is that smell, New Mexicans might wonder? It's a simultaneously exhilarating, exciting and pathetic amalgam of anxiety, camping, body odour, latex, cheap polyester, sycophancy, Japanese perfume, cheap leather, desperation, domestic "beer" and nacho "cheese" sauce.

 

 

“There’s an awful lot of weird, pasty people in here, myself included.” So went my recurring, silent observance throughout this year’s Comic-Con, striking oft as I flitted hither and thither through the San Diego Convention Center, like a frantic mosquito seeking an open window on a muggy, Malibu, summer’s day. The pastiness was not truly what struck me, nor was the definitive weirdness. The real oddity was, like in so many gatherings where we geeks gather en masse -Renaissance Faire, Disneyland- the convergence of and shoulder-to-shoulder conditions pressed upon so many individuals not generally prone to mainstream socializing. Moi? I haven’t left my Hotel del Coronado much since 1934. Dr. Lucy, my ghostie cohort? 1904. Judging by the bevy of pale and malleable bodies endeavouring some severely awkward social interactivity, they’ve not left their abodes since 1904 either. Need more than just one fat Slave Leia? Dr. Lucy’s Comic-Con 2012 Gallery of Oddities!