Jennifer Devore

Jennifer Devore

Horsefeathers! Hildy just e-mailed me and I say, Ba-loney! I’m absolutely zozzled with disbelief! I don’t want to make a beef about this, but here’s the dish. If you recall my Hannah Hart, ghostdame of The Del intro post, I told you cats I was off to Boston for a Beacon Hill Christmas. I also mentioned it’s no simple jaunt, spending up loads of my energy to get there. Sure, ghost travel ain’t the big brodie yours is, but it’s still no basket of blackberries in July. Well, guess what, kids? Dr. Harvey & Hildy, good ol’ Mum and Daddy, won’t be having a Beantown Christmas this year because they’re headed for Hawaii! Well, I told them that’s all wet! How could they? I’ve been saving up since summer for the Road to New England and they go all Santa-in-a-grass-skirt on me.

To make matters worse, they’re taking big bro Hugh with them. It looks like I’m all alone, Santa Baby. Just my little dog Lindy and Moi. Home for the holidays suddenly doesn’t seem quite the raspberry I thought it was. Plus, how am I supposed to get all my presents? Try to receive a package as a ghost, or deliver one for that matter. The current residents inevitably either keep the goods or send them back marked No longer at this address. Duh, Dumb Dora. Even brown can’t do that. Murder!

Well, I’m nothing if not a Pink Gin is half-full kind of kitten. I suppose the upside is not only do I get a respite from Harvey & Hildy’s foxtrot flaunts, but I also get to remain in San Diego, in my gorgeous Hotel del Coronado. Boyzo! Is it ever bonkers with Christmas spirit! Better than that? I think I spied an old chum lurking over a Gibson in the Babcock & Story – and I do mean old . . . she’s been here longer than I. Dr. Lucia Devereaux, oceanographer, was the first hot scientist at Scripps Institution of Oceanography. She also had a knack for tinkering and a fascination with the new electricity fads of the day: a deadly avocation when combined with her vocation.

Dr. Lucy’s been haunting the hotel since 1904 when – The Del being the world’s first resort to use electrical lighting – she naively tried to teach Onslow, her pet octopus, whom she housed in the hotel pool, how to run the nighttime deck lights. One sad splash! and that was it: she would reside where she died. Legend has it Onslow scuttled back out to sea before he died and today he still tarries about the shoreline, only able to see his Lucy from afar. Sometimes at night, you can see them waving to each other: Onslow’s tentacles from the sea, she her handkerchief from her attic laboratory. Each Christmas Eve since then, if one listens carefully over the crashing waves of midnight, one hears Dr. Lucy singing his favorite poem, Lord Octopus Went to the Christmas Fair by Stella Mead (1934). It’s haunting, really. Lord Octopus went to the Christmas Fair; an hour and a half he was traveling there …

She’s been adventurous lately, leaving her lab, now that steampunk is all the rage. Lucy’s a sucker for anything Victorian and mechanical. Lucky for her, the hotel gift shops have a plethora of steampunk décor and accoutrement: Onslow Christmas ornaments, clockwork art, vintage styled jewelry and sartorial finery galore for gentlemen and ladies in the posh hotel boutiques. If I can keep her out of the lab, I think it could be a nobby Christmas! Maybe Harvey & Hildy going to Hawaii is the best pressie after all. These hotel holidaymakers won’t know what hit when we jazzy kittens jolly up the joint!

Until the Christmas wingdings begin, I’ve got more than enough seasonal cheer and swell weather to keep me chipper. Best of all, I’ve got a stack of Mickey Mouse Magazines, Carl Barks’ Uncle Scrooge Adventures and even a few modern copies of Betty and Veronica. Oh, I do like that sassy and shiny Veronica! You wouldn’t find Miss Veronica Lodge at The Del in flip-flops and elastic-waist shorts … like some of you. (Cats, try to remember it’s an upscale resort when you visit. U.S. presidents, dignitaries and film stars holiday here. At least, please don’t wear your jim-jams out of your hotel room.)

Comic books for a chickadee like me? And how! You think all you alligators with your Superman, Spiderman and Star Wars tales cornered the market on comic book furor? Think again, dolls! Disney ink first hit the pulp in 1930 and I’ve been hooked like an old lady on a favorite Atlantic City slot machine ever since. I’ve even still got my very first comic book ever, a stocking stuffer in either ’31 or ’32: Mickey Mouse in Death Valley. Uncle Scrooge, Huey, Dewey, Louie and those brazen Beagle Boys have been taking this muffin on adventure after adventure for over eighty years. Topping the stack currently is my 1949 Walt Disney’s Christmas Parade.  My faves though? The Egyptian escapades; nothing’s funnier than a mummy chasing Donald Duck! Throw in Mickey and Goofy afoot of a mystery in the Scottish Highlands and you’ve got some rip-roaring good yarns! Don’t forget to check your Junior Woodchuck Guidebook for tips on overseas mysteries, just in case you’re headed to exotic lands for the holidays. (I hope Harvey & Hildy packed their copy!)

Now, I’ve got to go change. The Travel Channel is on the premises shooting Skating by the Sea: The Del’s beachsiide ice skating. First, I have to dig up my fur-trimmed, Sonja Henie skating dress, my white, velvet muff and then it takes forever to do my finger curls. (Listen up, broads. Ghost locks are paper-thin and refuse to hold a curl; whatever you died with, you pretty much keep forever. So, if you have some idea of when you’re going out, make sure your hair is looking spiffy.) As soon as I’m cute n’ camera-ready, I’ll dash over and make a few spins around the ice rink. See, when they get around to editing next year’s Travel Channel Hallowe’en specials, they’ll remember they think they saw yours truly in some of the Christmas footage. Hey, it’s good B-roll for them and I get to keep my footy in the flickers.

Okay, dolls. Tootles and Happy Holid … wait, is that Dr. Lucy? Ahhh, it is! Sure enough, she’s headed for the bar! I think I have time for a quick G&T à la B&S. Damn, I’m never going to get to my comic books. Whilst she and I catch up, perhaps some of you can suggest other great comics (any new steampunk series?) and holiday cocktails for Lucy, Lindy and Moi this Christmas @JennyPopCom.

 Need some splashy, flashy holiday cocktails? Find recipes from JennyPop's Festive Libations!

Abyssinia, babies!


@JennyPopCom

Ah, home for the holidays! It’s a dilly of a time to throw your hands up and be the kid again: no responsibilities, no worries, no tasks, no requirements. Just sit back on the old brocade divan and wait for Mom to bring you truffles and a cup of Privateer eggnog, your older brother to slip you a sawbuck or two (plus some extra whiskey in your nog) and for Dear Old Dad to question you about what you’re doing with your money. For my part, Dad’s been asking me the same question for decades and for decades, I’ve been giving him the same answer: “Why, it’s all in my closet, right where it belongs!”

 

Now, it’s supposed to be darn cold this Christmas in Boston. Seems like it’s always cold in Boston and that’s why I made like a baby and headed straight out of there, getting myself to sunny California. Plus, I wanted to get into moving pictures. Did some good stuff, too. Ever see Gold Diggers of 1933? Yep, that’s me in the back, the one high-kicking in the sequined bathing suit. Nice gig, but Joan Blondell stole my part. Heifer. That cement mixer couldn’t dance to save her life. I should have had the lead. That’s all right ‘cause she had to put up with that octopus director. All those hands! He had more moves than a Navy brat. I digress. Anyhoo, like a lot of you this holiday season, I’m homeward bound and it’s a big deal for me!

First, I'm leaving my haunt, which I don't do very often: The Hotel del Coronado in gorgeous, vibrant San Diego. Ever visited? Make a ressie! There's no place like The Holidays at The Del! From Thanksgiving dinner at the famous Crown Room, to Skating by the Sea and cozy fire-ring cocktails overlooking the Pacific, it's the bee's knees, kids! (Brief bio, in case you're curious: Just after I moved out here, wouldn't it figure, I died at The Del, in a dancing incident in 1934, and it was all Ida Lupino's fault. She has no natural rhythm, all flailing arms. We still don't talk. Oh, well. At least I died sporting sequins and rhinestones and some dynamite gams!)

Secondly, despite what you living folk might think, we ghosts only get a couple of times a year when we can leave our haunts. It takes bonkers amount of energy to travel; so, we save up our strength, pretty much like you save up your cabbage, and hit the astral planes. It’s exhausting and can take all day to get across this great big country. Sure, it’s easier than enduring one of your modern flights, but it’s still arduous. Mom and Dad don't like to astral project; they're used to propeller planes, from back in their flying days. (See Mom and Dad in lg pic above, w plane.) So, I don't mind making the trip.

Once the travel day is over and we’re Home Sweet Home, it’s a cozy and comfy class act with little to do except eat, drink and exchange pressies. Cocooning at home plate can be a sweet dish, but it can also come with drawbacks, like forgoing some of those modern conveniences you dig everyday … including the Internet. Wacky, right? Some of you are getting a Christmas sans Internet and don't even realize it, yet. You poor saps. Some parents and grandparents are insistent on collecting those devices or forcing you to turn them off, making certain you all visit properly, ensuring "quality family time" and conversation. Even worse, some will force family-time via Dance, Dance or Alexa-games. 

You think you have it bad, being forced to watch cable TV or compete in Dance, Dance, booze-free, with Grandmama? Try watching your parents foxtrot around the parlor. Dr. Harvey & Hildy are still listening to their old Victrola and beeswax cylinders, making me sit through verse after verse of Yale Boola!, Glow-Worm (in German!), and The Bird on Nellie’s Hat, all whilst viewing the same stereoviews I’ve seen for decades. Bonkers! Don’t worry, fair friends; there are solutions. Yes, most include gin. Ever have a Girlie Martini? No, not Dita von Teese in a giant martini glass … although, yum! A Girlie is equal parts champagne, vodka, a splash of vermouth and a maraschino cherry. Christmas is an excellent time for just such a zinger!

In the end, try to remember it’s family time. If sitting in the tiny house your nonagenarian great-uncle has lived in since the Great War, and consistently heats to eighty-eight degrees, in addition to a roaring fireplace, drives you mad, be patient. When your sister-in-law hands you an apron and expects you to help in the kitchen, even though she knows you don't ever do anything in the kitchen except craft cocktails and make espresso, be kind and oblige. When your neice's boyfriend has no problem telling everyone their political opinions are flat-wrong, just smile and pour another drink.

Ghost-families are no different than yours; they're all equally irritating and annoying ... I mean, fun and annoying. In those family moments, when you realize it's still hours before escaping into town with your beloved and a fave in-law or sibling for cocktails and revels, and you're all sitting around in sweltering silence, staring at each other and picking compulsively from bowls of stale nuts and hard candy …. well, that’s just "quality family time" and you're making someone in that room very, very happy. Drink your Girlie Martini, your Guinness, your I.P.A. or Coppola wine, suck on a pecan and appreciate it in all its absurdity. See you kittens later and enjoy those après-family gatheriings!

Happy Holidays! Abyssinia!

Enjoy craft cocktails? Peruse JennyPop's Festive Libations for The Holidays!

Follow all the holiday cheer @JennyPopCom Insta and Twitter

 

So, here's the hard-boiled situation, all you cats and alligators. I'm Hannah Hart and I'm taking the keyboard for a bit here. Ms. Devore is sleeping one off, I'm pretty sure. Well, as far as I know. Last I saw her she was face down and chassis up on the deck of a Mission Bay yacht and sea gulls were using her Blackberry to take embarrassing pictures of her and sending them to friends in Australia. What a Dumb Dora. I told her to take it easy on the Manhattans; she's a lightweight, clearly. I also told her to wear a longer dress to the party; it's Christmas, not Slutmas. You modern girls are so weak. You can't handle whiskey or your panties like we used to. Pathetic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ah, applesauce! Sorry, you'd dig some more details about me, right? Easy peasy. I'm a ghost. Pretty simple. I died in 1934 and since then have lived a sparkly, splendid, Sidecar-infused eternity at San Diego's spiffy Hotel del Coronado. How did I die? You know what, dolls? I'm doing a little writing for a geek-culture site called goodtobeageek.com. Look for my bio under "Miss Hannah Hart" in Meet the Geeks (third from the top) and, mitt me, kids! ... my inaugural piece made Featured Posts: Home for the Holidays: Stale Pecans, Dial-up & Girlie Martinis.

 

See, I said you cats can't handle your giggle juice

 

 

 

Hopefully Jen will be back to writing soon. I got a ringy-dingy from her phone, but I think it was a crank from one of those sea gulls. Those goons are bonkers, I tell ya, bonkers!

 

Abyssinia, guys and dolls!

Sunday, 30 June 2013 20:16

Accessories for The Fourth Of July

In the 237 summers which have come and gone since July 4th, 1776, the date has increasingly become a juncture for white sales and auto dealer blowouts. In fact, lost amidst the mall madness and car lot carnivals is a simultaneously fascinating and pedantic period of committee meetings, assignations, rewrites, copies, messengers, vote-taking and gallons of coffee, ale and wine. As I currently scribe the fourth novel in my six-part, historical-fiction series of books, Savannah of Williamsburg, Independence Day takes on a more front-and-center appearance than usual as research takes me through the 1750s, well into the meaty burgeoning of colonial revolution.

Thursday, 18 April 2013 17:19

Savannah Meets George Washington

Savannah of Williamsburg devotees have been anxiously awaiting Book IV in my 18thC. historical-fiction series. Well, pour some tea and put up your feet, folks ... be prepared to wait a little longer. Happily, my non-Savannah writing affords me a bevy of opportunity: as of late, covering various comic book conventions, reviewing the odd TV series, interviewing other writers and some producers and actors, to boot. As I am inextricably bonded to geek culture, I heartily enjoy writing in this genre. Although, because it is raw-ther niche, the more I write, the more call I get to do so. It's a nerdy, vicious cycle, my pretties. Unfamiliar with some of my geek oeuvres? Find them at GoodToBeAGeek.com, under the pseudonym Miss Hannah Hart, ghostdame of the Hotel del Coronado, and syndicated at RocketLlama.com and, soon, Nerdspan.com!

As of late, yours truly has been greatly distracted and engaged by the likes of my dear pal Miss Hannah Hart, ghostdame of the Hotel Del (her latest piece being a gracious and geeky ode to Charles Dickens, Mark Twain and Leonard Nimoy on the former's 200th birthday); my Darlings of Orange County and it's forthwith release; the launch of my website JennyPop.com and the great fun of being @JennyPopCom.

In those spare moments when I'm not Tweeting, blogging, editing, primping, ghosting and pirating, I have been dutifully and diligently researching, developing and gathering facts, dates, details and tidbits like a perky squirrel gathering perfect branches and bits of shiny, gold string for her new nest. Sans doute, this next installment of Savannah of Williamsburg is proving the most difficult yet of all past titles.

"I am so surprised you watch that. It just doesn't seem like you."

Yes, I do; and, no it doesn't. Allow me to share my Pop secret with you, kittens.

This gape-jaw surprise, that I watch The Real Housewives of Orange County, amongst other RH franchises, is an alarm I have heard more than once. It's true, it does not fit my modus operandus for TV viewing. My druthers lean toward Arrested Development, TURN, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, Versailles, Anne With an 'E', Flaked, The Durrells in Corfu and Absolutely Fabulous. Well, shame be damned, in fact, I do watch RHOC, RHONJ, RHOA and RHOBH. If it pleases the court ... my argument for the defense.

  • It's the hair. It's so preternaturally, perfectly shiny. The ladies are like Anne Rice characters, their hair is so lustrous. I have good hair - don't hate me because I'm beautiful - yet, even with my Aveda products and healthy eating habits, I can't get that level of luxe.
  • It's the wardrobes. I am an unapologetic clotheshorse and totally besotted with everything sartorial, from thrift store-finds to true vintage, from couture to cosplay.
  • It's the parties. To quote Panic at the Disco, "Don't threaten me with a good time!" I am always available for a gathering: theme parties, costume extravaganza, cocktail soirées, fouffy dinners, wine lunches, posh teas, pool bashes and beach bonfires. (Anything except a BBQ in an inland park or a day on the Colorado River.)
  • It's the mise-en-scène. Like Gwen Stefani, "I'm just an Orange County girl living in an extraordinary world." The establishing shots of the O.C. (Psst, don't call it that.) form a character all her own.

I know Orange County as well as I do a fake Prada bag. I even strayed from my usual genre of 18thC. historical-fiction (Savannah of Williamsburg Series) and penned a bikini-and-martini, contempo novel titled The Darlings of Orange County: a scathing, satirical, love-hate letter to Orange County, currently being adapted to a screenplay. Yours Truly has lived up and down the Orange County coast: Balboa Island, Corona del Mar, Irvine, South Laguna Beach, Dana Point and San Clemente. Summers not spent in Hawai'i were spent on the sand at 52nd in Newport Beach. In college I worked at Disneyland, Neiman-Marcus at Fashion Island and Ruby's Auto Diner in Laguna Beach. Whilst my husband (known to many as The Viking) was in grad school at Chapman University's Dodge School of Film and Media Arts, I worked at Diedrich's Coffee in Dana Point's Ocean Ranch and taught French, Etiquette and Shakespeare at Broderick Montessori School in Dana Point.

Both Mum and Dear Old Dad count Chapman University amongst their alma maters, undergrad and grad school; for a time, Dear Old Dad was a Freshman-psych prof at Chapman. My fave little cousin, Bex Boo, is currently a BioSci major at UCIrvine. Natch, I, also, attended UCi and Chapman.

So, big whoop bully for you, JennyPop. Now, why do you patronize such sub-mental pablum and waste such precious time? (Including writing this post?)

Fair nudge, fair reader. Moving on ...

Here's the crux, the psychological explanation from a shrink's kid ... It's the LOTR-style, epic quests for friendship, oft abysmally failed, these ladies pursue. It's the quest that truly draws me, season over season, city after city. Like Siggy Flicker (my fave Housewife) of The Real Housewives of New Jersey I want everyone to be friends and love each other, cheesy as that reads. Perchance it's projection. I find my friendships, although scant in number, sacrosanct. There are lines one does not cross, rules and ethics inherent and sans exception. When a guy or gal finally crosses my threshold from "that _______ " to "my friend ______", I am loyal to the end. When I say I would take a bullet for them, I mean it. (Although, I likely will not loan my new Charles David over-the-knee boots, my Waterman pen or any of my Von Zipper sunglasses.)

Ergo, I marvel at what these ladies will not only perpetrate, but endure, and still come out of their catty battles as "friends" ... until the next season. What some folks call friendship, fascinates me. (Advisement: Do not get me started on what Zuckerberg and Facebook have done to dilute the word "friend".) In short, The Real Housewives is a Chaucerian cautionary tale draped in Chanel, a Medeival, morality play shrouded in Moschino. It is fabulously, terrifyingly didactic.

The Real Housewives of Orange County, S12, The Newest Housewife, Peggy Sulahian. Official Photo: Tommy Garcia/Bravo (Granted via permission of NBC/Uni Media Village)

Note: This season might proffer a bit more gravity, in Peggy Sulahian. Housewife #100 was born to Armenian parents in Kuwait and has been in the U.S. since the twee age of one. Whilst Lady Fortuna has largely spun her Wheel fortuitously for Peggy - an oceanview home in Crystal Cove, a loving husband and three healthy, beautiful children - the Wheel has had its bad spins. At the age of fifty-one, Peggy's mother passed away from breast cancer. Recently, after finding a lump, Peggy opted for a radical double-mastectomy, to be extra cautious. RHOC S12 finds Peggy on the eve of her reconstructive surgery. From all accounts, like so many other victims and survivors of this dreaded thief in the night, Peggy has a confidence and inner power that poises her perfectly to melée with The Real Housewives. I mean, really. After the early death of a mother, the threat of the C-word and a voluntary, double-mastectomy,  what on Earth could Vicki Gunvalson and Kelly Dodd do to this lovely lady? Bring it on, S12.

 

The Real Housewives of Orange County S12 premieres on BRAVO, July 10, 2017 @ 9/8c.

@JennyPopCom (Insta and Twitter) #RHOC #RealHousewives #PeggySulahian

As author Jennifer Susannah Devore works diligently, her wee fingertips tattered to the bone, editing Book IV of her Savannah of Williamsburg series of historical-fiction, she finds herself currently obsessed with AMC's resplendent, American Revolutionary War drama, TURN: Washington's Spies.

Well, of course she is, you roll your eyes. She's JennyPop. Anyone who knows her even moderately well knows of her love affair with the 18thC.: art, architecture, fashion, history, literature and so on. To boot, the series is shot on-location in Virginia, including her fave American hamlet, her former home of Colonial Williamsburg. I wonder if the cast hangs out at The Green Leafe? JennyPop wonders. Oh, wait., she recalls. It's closed for renovations. Maybe they go to Blue Talon Bistro? she adjusts her curiosity.

In between long bouts of editing, she has, of late, been curating her own TURN soundtrack. Odd, you might think. Yes, one could agree. What a glorious waste of time, you amend. Again, yes, one could agree.

Regardless of your opinion, she has gloriously wasted her time for you, the TURN devotee. As you await the fourth, and, sadly, final season on AMC, fret not. If you find yourself mourning the loss of Major John André, fretting over the emotional well-being of Miss Peggy Shippen-Arnold, terrified of Captain Simcoe's next psychotic demonstration, curious if Mary Woodhull will take to attempted murder again and hoping against hope that Anna and Captain Hewlett find true love together, you can always watch and re-watch the series on Netflix and Amazon Instant, buy the Blu-Rays and, if you so choose, peruse JennyPop's TURN soundtrack and perchance create your own playlist.

Aside: One of JennyPop's dear friends, Lance Pedigo, former Head of Music for Colonial Williamsburg and former head of the CW Fife and Drum Corps, leads the sad, drum procession to Major John André's hanging at the end of S3e10: "Trial and Execution".

 

JennyPop's TURN Soundtrack

 

"Don't Cry" (Major André's and Peggy's lament) by Guns N' Roses

"Centuries" by Fall Out Boy

"Regular Army O" by Mick Moloney

"Sucker For Pain" on Suicide Squad soundtrack

"Stressed Out" by Twenty One Pilots

"Renegades" by X Ambassadors

"Strip" by Adam Ant

"Little Talks" by Of Monsters and Men

"Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen or Panic at the Disco!

"Fake It" by Seether

"Stand and Deliver" by Adam Ant

"God's Gonna Cut You Down" by Johnny Cash

"How I Could Just Kill A Man" (Simcoe's theme) by Rage Against the Machine

 

 

What would you add? Curate your own and share @JennyPopCom! Feel free to share mine!

 

#TURN #MyTURNSoundtrack #TURNAMC

 

 

 

 

Sometimes you just want black goo instead of gravy on your Tofurkey. Luckily, there's the SyFy Thanksgiving weekend marathon ... starting with the Helix Black (Goo) Friday Marathon.

Leave the Tofurkey carcass, and that annoying cousin visiting from Cal Tech, on the front porch as a decoy and enjoy a horrific, Holiday weekend of persistent pestilence from SyFy: Arctic goo, King-sized Troubles, a cross-country zombie muster and so much space turmoil. Just in case football, Free Birds, A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving and a Friends Thanksgiving marathon don't fill up your plate, unbuckle your pants, America; SyFy is serving up a heaping, fleshy platter of Helix, Haven and Z Nation. To boot, because there's always room for pie, SyFy's got a steaming side-board groaning under the weight of a two-day gorge-fest of seminal silver-screen sci-fi.

The gooey, geeky, goodness all begins Thanksgiving morning, Thursday, November 27th at 9:30a.m. (EST/PST) with 2001: Space Odyssey. Pour some more Baileys in your Sbux Italian Roast, tie on the apron and then fire up the kitchen viewing device to watch Star Trek Nemesis, Space Cowboys, Stargate and Poseidon while you help Grandmama boil the cranberries and glaze the yams. Be careful, though and don't fill up on all that cheese; there's so much more to come!

After everyone's had a crowded but good night's sleep, heat up a big bowl of leftover succotash and get ready for all-day heebie-jeebies on Friday, November 28th, 6:00a.m.-6:00p.m. as SyFy runs The Black Goo Friday Marathon: Helix S1 in its entirety, including cast interviews and a never-before-seen sneak-peek of S2, which will premiere Friday, January 16, 2015 at 10:00p.m. So many monkeys!

By Friday night, you'll probably want to go to bed early. Fight that urge, schlubs, and stir up your adrenaline with WWE wrestling, viral zombies and New England supernatural scares the Puritans failed to notate in their daily journals of weather and midwifery. Original episodes of Haven (7:00p.m.) and Z Nation (10:00p.m.), plus WWE SmackDown (8:00p.m.), comprise your SyFryday primetime line-up.

Now it's Saturday and if you haven't devoted yourself to a gym-day by now, you're not going. Just own it, pull on your fave Quiksilver surf poncho and drawstring pants, grab a heaping helping of Mom's baked cheesy potatoes and claim your Sheldon-spot on the couch.

SyFy's weekend film-fest commences Saturday, November 29th at 10:00a.m. and then again on Sunday, November 30th at 10:30a.m., giving you an extra half-hour to crawl out of bed and beg one of your visiting relatives to make you coffee, probably that Cal Tech cousin. Filmic treats to nosh all weekend will include Fifth Element, Terminator 2, Blade: Trinity, The Happening and, just to get you in that festive, snowy, cozy-indoor, Christmas spirit, 30 Days of Night.

Happy Holidays, Freaks!

 

FYI:

Syfy is a media destination for imagination-based entertainment. With year round acclaimed original series, events, blockbuster movies, classic science fiction and fantasy programming, a dynamic Web site (www.Syfy.com), and a portfolio of adjacent business (Syfy Ventures), Syfy is a passport to limitless possibilities. Originally launched in 1992 as SCI FI Channel, and currently in 96 million homes, Syfy is a network of NBCUniversal, one of the world's leading media and entertainment companies.  NBCUniversal is a subsidiary of Comcast Corporation. (Syfy. Imagine Greater.)

Original press release info provided by Garrott Smith, Digital Publicist, MXM #ContentMarketingAgencyoftheYear

Want some inside-Helix ? Enjoy Jennifer Susannah Devore's Helix S1 review, including an interview with Catherine Lemieux (Dr. Doreen Boyle) and Mark Ghanimé (Major Sergio Balleseros). Follow/Tweet @JennyPopCom @GoodToBeAGeek @SyFy #scifi #ThanksgivingTV