Some are born Geek, some achieve Geekness and others have Geekness thrust upon them. For those of us whom are verily Geek-at-Heart, we shall not be shedding the title as quickly as a West Hollywood hipster sheds his iPad the moment Apple bids him so. Whilst many will claim the title of Geek, as to be Nerd/Dork/Geek/Wonk is très chic, it is a dangerous, double-edged lightsaber ... wait, they're columnar in shape. Anyhoo, we may live blissfully in our own, little biospheres; yet we are easy targets, like a wounded dolphin, or the only kid dressed up like a pilgrim the Wednesday before school lets out for Thanksgiving Weekend.

From sea to nerdy Cameron-submersible sea, forest to dorky Bigfoot forest, Skywalker Ranch and beyond the solar flares, this proudly pale populace has some serious ideas about what is fun and what is not. Summer is here and it can be a tough time for us, what with the sun, the outdoors and the prospect of a proper, dress-up holiday still months away. Never mind all that; we know what makes for real summer fun and with all due respect to the rest of you, to quote The Big Bang Theory's Dr. Sheldon Cooper, "You're having fun wrong."

Summer can be a bit of a free-radical situation for us: left to fend for ourselves amidst the plains and savannas of a deconstructed season, fighting against the harsh summer sun and the expected, traditional, normal outdoor activities of the average, summer reveler. In adult-life, as in school, just because it's summer, doesn't mean the wedgies cease. In such situations, it is only natural to seek the like-minded. When the broad landscape is dotted with the frequently unavoidable herds of roaming, aggressive, beefy, sunny, beachy, geek-squashers it is often necessary for the more fragile, the proverbial 98-pound weaklings, to gather and move in clusters. The sand-kickers can’t get us all if we move as one.

If it is entirely plausible that you could spend a joyful afternoon at Peet's Coffee having a serious debate about whether Han or Greedo shot first, you just might find the following summer alternatives to beach volleyball, backyard BBQs and 5K mud runs great fun indeed. I cannot advise on alternatives in your backyard, but as a Cali Girl, I will gladly walk you through some of my Golden State's finest, oft air-conditioned, cerebral, summer dork attractions.

• San Diego Comic-Con: Certainly a toss-up, as to whether this should take the number one or two spot. In the end, it had to be crowned as supreme. Comic-Con is Mecca for con geeks the world over, even the new breed of geek: the poseur. C-C has become the new Studio 54. Few at the 1970s, iconic, NYC discotheque probably actually loved disco. Today, it's questionable how many Comic-Con attendees even read comic books, let alone have a passion for the medium. Still, decades after Richard Alf et al gifted the Geek World with the original SDCC and after all the poseurs have moved on, when The Big Bang Theory runs its course, the real fans will still faithfully flood the San Diego Convention Center each July, giving the San Diego Fire Marshal four sleepless nights every summer.

• Disneyland: Like Salieri to Mozart or Sean Penn's Emmet Ray to Django Reinhardt, were there no Comic-Con, Disney would clearly reign on this list. If you’re fortunate enough to have an annual passport, chances are good you can’t get enough of Star Tours and its fifty-some possible scenarios, The Haunted Mansion, Indiana Jones, a Johnny Depp-frosted Pirates of the Caribbean and browsing ad nauseam the Capodimonte-laden glass shelves of Main Street's Disneyana. We Disney devotees do enjoy the occasional, audible snort of derision at new attractions and additions and love to regale newbies and family first-timers with behind-the-scenes Park trivia (especially those of us whom worked there). Overall, it is our church of sorts and if you don’t like Goths, stay away mid-September through January, for The Nightmare Before Christmas overlay at The Haunted Mansion is really, honestly, to die for, kids.

• Renaissance Pleasure Faire: This one’s the original, yon friends. It's usually over before summer solstice hits, but you'll find plenty of other faires up and down the state. Yet, prithee, this is the Hamlet of Renaissance festivals. Oft simply called "Southern" or "Ren Faire", it’s been around since what feels like Queen Elizabeth I and Sir Walter Raleigh were playing footsies behind hogsheads and if you’re well-acquainted with Faire, then you know the tacit rules of conduct: no polyester, no real names, no Victorian Gary Oldmans from Dracula, keep your tongue in character and do not ask us if our costumes are hot. It's almost always 100 degrees and with the exception of our cleavages, we're swathed head-to-toe in leather, velvet, suede and fur. What thinkst thou? Faire is no place for steampunk and there’s also an internal, heated and on-going debate about Captain Jack Sparrow, because he’s a "made-up pirate". Of course, most of the pirate guilds are themselves comprised of made-up pirates. I give you geek.

• Conan: Deserving of a Larry King suspenders & glasses/Arnold sausage snap combo-pantomime, this day trip can’t be beat, even by the Masturbating Bear. Whether you're a lucky local of beautiful downtown Burbank or saving up your game tokens for a Golden State sojourn, a Conan taping is probably the second best taping you can attend in The Valley. Tickets are free, but the online lottery is hit 'n miss. Still, if you can nail a date and don't mind being in Burbank on a weekday, you’ll be better than just about everybody back home on the farm.

• Huntington Library and Gardens: Word nerds, book geeks and art history-snarks, this is your perfect afternoon, except Tuesdays and only from 10:30-4:00 in the summer, 12-4 otherwise. Of course, if you want to miss traffic getting out of the Pasadena-area, you’d best try to be out of the parking lot by 2:30, 3:00 tops. Home to a Gutenberg Bible, an Ellesmere manuscript of The Canterbury Tales, scores of early-Shakespearean papers, Audubon folios and a selection of 18thC. French and English decorative arts that would make Sofia Coppola swoon, the quiet and hidden treasure of L.A. museums is clandestinely tucked away in upscale, residential San Marino, an old money suburb of Pasadena. If you’re drawn to English incunabula, powdered wigs, French Lace roses and think Joshua Reynold's Sarah Siddons as Tragic Muse is just downright hot, then you’d better get going. Traffic will be a total nightmare in about forty minutes.

As a bonus, I must toss in The Hotel del Coronado. Though not a geek-oriented destination in and of itself, unless you’re bonkers for Victorian architectural detail, it is home to our favourite geek ghost, Miss Hannah Hart, ghostdame of The Hotel del Coronado. What?! You don’t know Miss Hannah Hart? Zowie!, as she would decry! Best get yourself over to GoodToBeAGeek.com and introduce yourself to this sassy and brassy, 1930s, Old Hollywood dame whom finds your casual wardrobe and slack-jawed vernacular a disgrace. Boyz-o! Does she have some opinions about you!

Clearly, because we are Geek, I rest assured many of you will disagree with my list, if only to dispute its hierarchy. Moreover, I expect others will rant and rail over omissions and inclusions. Please, do share @JennyPopCom or @GoodToBeAGeek. Like learning a Hotel Del ghostie girl is as bonkers for Carl Barks comic books as I am, it's always a thrill to learn where more of my own kind roam at will, without threat or fear of a good swirly.

 

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This easy, breezy, beautiful day along the San Diego coast, I offer a delightful surprise, for me anyway: a humbling and downright awesome follow-up review to my Skype interview about The Darlings of Orange County with Natalie Wright. As I mentioned previously, Natalie calls 'em likes she sees 'em. Lucky pour Moi, she sees 'em a far cry from Fifty Shades of Grey. Phew!

J'adore la pluie! I once travelled to Scotland with a pal over the summer, in part, to escape the SoCal heat, only to be to greeted with a heatwave across the U.K. I also enjoyed a very happy, rain-soaked summer in Vieux Quebec, thrilled to be out of 90-degree weather for the horrid month of August. (You know what they say about Paris in August? Only tourists and the infirm remain. So it should be with SoCal.)

Yes, I love and appreciate our blue skies and California sunshine, which is truly its own beast; there is no light like California-light, except maybe that basking over the South of France. 'Tis true though, I have yet to see a sea as turquoise as that of Nice and Cannes. Quelle belle mer!

To wit, these are the days I cherish most (and I tend to cherish most everyday), the days I miss most from our Virginia-sojourn. In a place that is more Palm Beach than Seattle, I welcome the odd day of thunderstorms and black skies, despite the horror reported to us by local news stations' StormTracker Weathergirls. (I know, this is not a p.c.-term. I don't care. I like the term Weathergirl; it's cute and sometimes totally accurate: like "stripper" over "exotic dancer" and "Teleprompter Jockey" over "broadcast journalist". That one's especially fun.)

Standing in line at a Carlsbad Starbucks this morning, happily awaiting my turn to order my Pumpkin Spice and Soy Americano with Whipped Cream - insert Homer Simpson donut drools here - , I couldn't help but eavesdrop on the chick in front of me and the counter girl. (Yeah, probably not p.c. either.)

Sbux Gal: Good morning! How are you enjoying this weather?

Obtuse-chick: Ohmygaaaad. I haaaate it. It makes me so depressed. When it's like this, I like to stay indoors, close all the windows, turn on some cheerful summertime music and watch travel videos of Hawai'i until the sun comes out. It's soooo gross today.

I imagine if one is in one's third month of a grey world in Baudette, Wisconsin or Grimsby, Ontario one might drift toward the sunnier-based episodes of Three Sheets. Admittedly, after two months or more of snow and dove-grey skies in Virginia, I tended to watch way more Rick Steves on the Mediterranean than is healthy. (Don't get me wrong, I love Rick Steves ... his travel tips just bug me sometimes. Please, see my very first posting ever here to see just how much.) Yet, when San Diego gets about thirteen days of rain total per annum, well, fret not, Chica. Put away the razor blades and be patient. In just about fourteen hours it shall be bright and sunny again and you won't have to pull the shades for another month or two.

The added bonus of days like this? I get to go play outside and splash in puddles in my best Frye boots and all without a single dollop of sunscreen!!! Mon Dieu, it gets to be a hassle. Nevertheless, with Dita Von Teese and Rose McGowan as my vampire-guides, I march valiantly into the oncoming decades certain I shall not be mistaken for one of The Real Lizard Women of Orange County or the reptile chicks from that old, '80s Sci-fi show V.