While in Florida a few weeks back, I decided that even though I was alone, I had to visit both Disney World and the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. Since motion-sickness prevents me from trying most of the rides, I still was planning on walking about, picking up a few souvenirs and relaxing on the more docile attractions.

At Disney World, after enjoying a smooth sail on Pirates of the Caribbean, I wandered about Adventureland. I could hear a train whistle in the distance and thought a nice steam locomotive ride would be nice. When I saw there was a line up though, I decided to Fast Pass it and come back later instead of waiting around.

Little did I realize (until it was far too late, stuck sardine-like inside as the crowd inched forward, natch) that "Big Thunder Mountain" is NOT the steam locomotive ride... it was a kerazy roller coaster!

Last night as the Winnipeg Jets were crushing the Florida Panthers, the Fox TV feed of the Panther's play-by-play near the end of the game was hilarious.... instead of describing the defeat, the two announcers from Florida went into a conversation on the "Fun Facts About Winnipeg". I mean, it had to be more interesting than what their team was doing, no?

Oh yes it was:




And here are even more fun facts about my fine city they didn't mention:


Bob Hope played his first game of golf here.

It's the city Pi's family was headed for in The Life of Pi.

The Harlequin Romance publishing empire began in Winnipeg.

Winnipeg celebrities include Monty Hall, David Steinberg, Terry Fox, Neil Young, The Guess Who, Randy Bachman (BTO) and Oscar Winner Anna Paquin.

The Second World War’s most famous spymaster Sir William Stephenson, the man called Intrepid, was the inspiration for Ian Fleming’s 007. He was born and raised in Winnipeg.

The first movie ever filmed in Canada was in Winnipeg. It was propaganda for the CP railway, singing the praises of Manitoba to entice European farmers and their families to resettle here.

The Pan American Games, which are second in scale only to the summer Olympics, have been held twice in Canada—both times (1967 and 1999) in Winnipeg.

Winnipeg holds the 2008 Guinness World Record for the longest naturally frozen skating trail.

Tommy Douglas— raised in Winnipeg—is recognized as the “Father of Medicare” in this country.

Winnipegger Charles Thorson worked as part of the design team that created Snow White—who incidentally bore a striking resemblance to his Winnipeg girlfriend—during his time at Walt Disney Studio in the 1930s. While at the Warner Brothers Animation “factory,” he created the name and prototype of the infamous cartoon character, Bugs Bunny.

At the time of construction in 1968, the Winnipeg Floodway was the second-largest earth-moving project in the world after the Panama Canal. It has saved the city from flooding many times since it was constructed

In the early 1900s, Sherlock Holmes author Sir Arthur Conan Doyle attended a séance at a Winnipeg physician's home and later declared, “Winnipeg stands very high among the places we have visited for its psychic possibilities.”

Winnipeg National Microbiology Laboratory houses Canada’s only Biological Safety Level 4 containment laboratory, used to test the most deadly human and animal diseases. In 2012, local scientists discovered antibodies to cure Ebola.



Oh, and it's nearly mid-April and it's still snowing.

Yep. I love it here :)

Two and a half months.

80 days to be exact.

We finally went to see Avatar last weekend.

Which sounds unbelievable if you know me - the Uber-Geeky-Sci-Fi-Nerd.

But something was always getting in the way of dedicating three hours to sit in a theatre. The holidays. Extremely cold weather. The Olympics.

At long last, hubby and I got our 3D glasses and along with a nearly full cinema, awaited the first showing Sunday. The movie was, in a word, amazing.

Unfortunately, my experience was hampered by another patron.

First, he took his seat right beside me mere seconds before the movie started.

Then he fidgited about, attempting to remove his jacket whilst balancing a huge bucket of popcorn on his lap. I was certain it was going to spill all over me. I inched as far away as I could for safety's sake, nervously eyeing his mega-drink perched in that tiny cup holder between our seats, as his elbow gently grazed it more than once.

Finally he settled down. Actually, he settled down so well I had to glance his way.

Yep. The unatural angle of his head gave it away even with dark glasses on, I could tell he was sound asleep.

How could someone fall asleep during Avatar? I was trying desperately to absorb every moment of the epic I could, entranced by the effects and tearing up at the story (oh yes, I will admit it).

The guy beside me woke up again, figited and slumped asleep once more.

I kept munching on my popcorn.

This routine went on for over two hours until the credits rolled, the lights went up and the crowd filed out; Sleepy Guy joining their ranks exiting out into the real world.

* Sigh * I want to go back and see Avatar again.

And hubby? Oh yeah, he can come along again too I guess. After all, he hasn't even seen it once yet.

The other day The Sting was on the classics movie channel. Gad, I haven't seen that film in a long time.

A long time indeed.

But not so long ago that I could ever forget Robert Redford's sexy smile and Paul Newman's amazing blue eyes..... mmmmm.

*Ahem *

Erm, sorry. Where was I? Oh yeah, watching The Sting.

It brought back another memory of the 70's.... not one I am overly proud of though.

You see my early teen years were spent in various drawing, sculpting and painting classes. Oh how I loved those. I never wanted to leave.

Then there were the piano lessons. I enjoyed them, but I wasn't a natural, so I had to work hard to learn and pounded those ivories for a few years. Then one day it happened. I was signed up to compete in

A Recital.

Yes, this uber non-competitive girl was headed full speed into an Accck! competition. And the piece I would play was Scott Joplin's The Entertainer, featured in the movie The Sting.

I practiced.

And practiced.

And practiced some more.

I practiced until I was thoroughly repulsed by that damn tune.

Then as the time drew near, I my panic proportionally grew. Doubt crept in and overtook me.

How the heck could I play this in front of an audience???

I couldn't.

I chickened out. Days before the recital, I withdrew my entry.

And it's only taken me about 35 years to listen to that song again without cringing in shame.

Me: How about we go see Star Trek on Sunday?

Hubster: Sure!

Me: Yep. On SUNDAY.

Hubster: Okay...

Me: Because it's a Special Day.

Hubster:

Me: You don't know what's on Sunday, do you?

Hubster: Er.... Star Trek?

Me:

Hubster:

Me: SUUUUUNDAY. A "Special Day".

Hubster: *Click* Oh! (Face contorts into that Holy Crap! expression)

Me:

Hubster: I nearly forgot!

Me: I know. (Yeah... NEARLY forgot....) Happy 29th Anniversary to you too there honey.

Unless you are a Star Wars geek er, "fan", you probably didn't know that May 4th is Star Wars Day.

Crap. I didn't even get a day off for it.

I should have. After all, I am an Uber-Fan.

Er, at least I was... until 2005 when regretfully I suffered a severe case of SWBO (Star Wars Burn-Out).

I succumbed shortly after I experienced the ultimate Star Wars trip - an invitation to George Lucas' Skywalker Ranch in California. I mean, what more could a science fiction nerd wish for? It was the culmination of years of dedicated fandom... nothing I would ever do again would top that.

Then I had to step back. Like a drug, it had taken over my life.

It had taken over my basement.

It had taken over my wardrobe.

It had taken over everything I did...

Don't believe me? Then check out this part of my old Star Wars website, which has been online since 1997:

Maureen Geeking Out at Star Wars Conventions

I can't believe it's been 10 years since that first Star Wars Celebration in Denver.

Yep, I not only watched Star Wars, I LIVED it. I worked for Rebelscum.com, spoke at conferences, worked with the stars, appeared on television, international radio and in the newspaper. I amassed a collection of over 7,000 items, all of which are still on display in my basement.

Even though I am not totally immersed in that Universe any longer, Star Wars will always hold a special place in my heart.

So Happy Star Wars Day. May the "Fourth" be with you, forever.

Every Halloween we carve a few real pumpkins to set on our doorstep. I illuminate them with electric lights so we don't have to worry about candles and the kids love them.

Oh, and I LOVE toasting the pumpkin seeds too.

But for the past few years, I've also done foam ones so we can keep them to reuse year to year. Hey, if I am going to spend hours on these suckers, I want to keep them longer than 1 day.

From 2006: I did this Jack Sparrow pumpkin from my own design. I'm posting it especially for Jay 'cause she's a Johnny Depp freak er, FAN like me (okay even MORE than me, if that's possible):


Okay, maybe it's for moi as well....

Last year I did another Jack.

Jack Skellington, that is. This one I am posting for my niece, Ashley... cause we are both Nightmare Before Christmas lovers:

Now if youll excuse me, I have to figure out what the hell I am going to do this year. I have no idea yet.

Good thing I took tomorrow off as a vacation day...

I have skeletons in my closet.

Scratch that.

I HAD skeletons in my closet.

Last weekend I purged the buggars out. No seance, chanting or Ouija boards necessary.

Just two huge green garbage bags.

Thanks to my teenage daughter, I have been forced, kicking and screaming gradually updated my fashion style to a somewhat acceptable version of this millennium's look. However, I will openly admit that during this transformation, I refused to relinquish evidence of past fad faux pas; unwilling to rid myself of the disco ghosts of the 1970s and 80s.

But no more.

Gone are the glitsy dresses.

Bye bye satin tops with puffy sleeves!

Sayonara padded shoulders!

But the worst,

absolute worst thing I found stealthly hidden from plain view, tucked away from the light of day ...

... the most horrifying discovery of all.

Not one, but six.

Six pairs of suspenders.

Yup. You read that right.

Suspenders

Pink, grey, red, black, yellow and.... *choke*

RAINBOW.

It's like I stepped out of "Godspell".

(Hey, that was a groovy movie!)



Oh, Gad.

This is more embarassing than ...

well, than anything I have yet confessed here. (Yes, YET).

The only thing saving me from complete humiliation? I couldn't find ANY photos of me wearing these. Hallelujah! A miracle in itself.

So what, dare you ask, did I do with those suspenders?

Throw them out? Hell no.

They're now stored with our Halloween costumes.

Along with my Superman shirt and striped pants.

"Day by day....

Day by day..."

I'd Rather Be pelted with a bunch of Smilies...
click on the happy face below
and get me out of 165th place over at Humor-blogs.com
Thank ye.

Kids nowadays. Sometimes they just need to think on their feet more.

Case in point, Daughter and her friends are just months away from their 18th birthdays. Which in our province, is the age when the thrill is taken out of sneaking into gory movies.

So I could only laugh at the following story she shared with me with the other night.

A few of the gang decided to go to "The Cheap Seats" (aka the theatre graveyard before DVD release) to see an 18A movie. However, their usual "ticket purchaser" (a large fellow who shaves) was absent that night.

Hence the competition commenced for "The One Who Looks Oldest" to try their luck at the counter. (Daughter's shiny braces disqualified her right away).

Eventually 'D' (name withheld to protect the guilty) was chosen as the Most-Likely-To-Succeed and nervously made his way to the cashier while the rest of them hid in the shadows.

The attendant scrutinized the lanky youth. "You're 18, right?"

"Do you need ID?" 'D' asked.

"Yeah."

'D' sheepishly stated he "forgot it".

"But you're 18, right?" The attendant asked once more, likely to simply cover his own butt.

"Yup."

"Okay. That will be $ 9.75."

Which is the exact moment when the charade came to a crashing end. For 'D' then made the classic mistake of pulling out his WALLET to get the money.

In full view of the booth clerk.

"Isn't that your licence?"

'D' was speechless as he looked down and there, in all it's colorful betraying glory, was his driver's card, with his under-age birthdate prominently displayed.

With a smirk, the clerk handed him the tickets anyway, along with a piece of sage advice.

"Maybe next time, plan ahead..."

Ah, the foolishness of youth.

... at breakneck speed.

Take the other night, for example.




NOT the prime equation for my hyperactive imagination.

It had been a hot day, so I needed to cool down and clean up. Since I was home alone, I went through The Pre-Shower Drill:

Lock and bolt the front door.

Ditto the back door.

Close the windows.

Lock the glass dining room patio sliders.

Lock the bathroom door.

I then proceeded to:

Jump into the tub. Shampoo.

Distinctly hear the front door opening and closing.

Freeze.

Freak out a bit when the dog barks.

Was that the door?

Nah.

On second thought, I'm SURE it was... maybe someone came home early.

I turn off the shower and listen.

Dog whines and barks again.

Freak out a little bit more. (Okay, okay. A LOT more).

Gory scenes from Psycho and every other slasher movie I have been stupid enough to watch fast-forward through my mind.

Aaaahh! Getoutta my head!!!!

And just like the doomed idiots in those movies, I climb out of the shower, wrap a towel around my dripping, soapy self and exit the bathroom with shampoo lather dribbling down my back.

Leaving a trail of water as I tiptoe down the dark hallway to investigate, I check every door and every window ... whilst unsuccessfully attempting to push the image of a hockey-masked serial killer wielding a butcher knife from my mind.

No one is there.

The doors are still locked.

The windows still closed.

Stupid dog.

I return to the bathroom to finish rinsing off, only to pause at the door.

Hold on...

What if someone is hiding behind the shower curtain?

Stupid slasher movies.



Stupid imagination.

While I waste spend time surfing the net, one of my favorite radio stations to tune in to is in Sydney, Australia.

I don't know why I get such a kick out of listening to it. Perhaps it's because:

1) I LOVE Australian accents. Heaven help hubby if I should ever get hit on by an Aussie... one word out of his mouth and I'd be putty in his hands. And on a plane to Down Under before you could whistle "Waltzing Matilda".

2) Their seasons are completely opposite to our Canuck ones, so I find it strangely bizarre listening to commercials about termites, gardening and the heat of summer while the snow is piled six feet high up here.

3) It's kind of like Time Travel. While I'm surfing away at 9 pm in the evening, I'm listening to their news and traffic reports from 2 in the afternoon THE NEXT DAY. I mean, really, it's like I know what's going to happen tomorrow!

When I tell you that I am a Geek, you'd better believe it.

A Nerd. Dweeb. Dork. Whatever.

The fact is, I am a Geek with a capital G mostly because of Star Wars. I admit it.

I swiftly graduated the Nerd Scale from simple fan to Convention Speaker in a few short years, working with the likes of Carrie Fisher (Princess Leia), Ray Park (Darth Maul), Dave Prowse (Darth Vader), Kenny Baker (R2-D2), Warwick Davis (Wicket), Lucasfilm staff and more. I was even invited to visit "Mecca" to all Star Wars fans - Skywalker Ranch in California. The opportunities that opened up were like an exquisite dream to a science fiction Geek like me.

But the Dark Side of fandom reared its ugly head while I was working The Star Wars Celebration II convention in 2002.

Upon arrival in Indianapolis, I shared a limo with Phil Brown (Uncle Owen), Peter Mayhew (Chewbacca) and their wives. Peter really is very tall, and has trouble walking on those long, bowed legs. We chatted on our way to the hotel, and it was nice to meet his wife who was very personable. When he climbed out of the limosine, Peter dropped his sunglasses. I retrieved them for him without so much as a "thankyou" from the big Wookiee.

Ah well, no biggie, I thought.

Like most people working the convention, I was extremely busy so I had to squeeze in opportunities to get autographs whenever I had a free moment. Carrie was extremely pleasant; we discussed our daughters who are very close in age. She signed a photo I had already had Mark Hamill sign. Since we had already met, I thought getting Peter to sign it too would be easy...

Um. Right.

Because I was staff, I didn't have to wait in the huge lines in the Autograph Hall. Peter's wife was helping him at his booth and she remembered me from the limo so we started chatting. I asked him if they were keeping him busy. Without looking up, he growled "Yes. And I am taking a break!" So I politely asked if I could just leave a photo for him to sign.

To my horror, he got up, leaned forward, lowered his 7 foot frame to my 5 foot 4 level, stared me straight in the eye and yelled "Are you deaf? I said I was TAKING A BREAK!"

"Uh... Um...." I was dumbfounded.

And oh so eloquent. NOT.

"Well? ARE you deaf?" He continued so loud EVERYONE could hear. Even if yes, I were deaf, I would have gotten the message. Loud and clear.

But shock kept me from forming actual words. All I could do was shake uncontrollably as tears welled up in my eyes.

"Errrr.... Ahhh...." Was all my brain could process.

Bravo. Way to stand up for yourself, Maureen.

My ability for a brilliant comeback, or heck, ANY comeback, as usual, failed me.

His wife was mortified... she took my photo and coupons (I paid, just like any other convention goer even though I didn't have to) and told me she would get him to sign it; could I come by to pick it up later?

Stunned, I just nodded and walked away...

Then I considered going back and telling him I didn't even WANT his stupid autograph anymore. But I left it, too scared to return and finally picked it up later that evening after he had left.

How brave am I?

Fortunately, he was the only celebrity that I've had a bad experience with. One of the sweetest people I've met was another Peter; Peter Diamond was a stunt coordinator for all the films, a Tusken Raider and also the Stormtrooper who falls into the chasm during the famous "swing" scene (he taught Mark how to do that trick). He saw what happened, took me aside, hugged me and told me in his crisp English accent that Mayhew was "just a hospital orderly whose height had gotten him the only acting part he ever had. He wasn't a true actor, and didn't appreciate how precious the fans were."

THAT Peter was a Gift. In his seventies, he was like having my own father there. When we parted at the airport after the convention, he kissed me goodbye on the cheek.

I was so sad when I heard he passed on a little while later.

So anyway, that was the day that will forever be remembered as:

You could say it's been a crazy month...

First, my freezer dies.

Then our TV remote gave up the ghost.

Next came my cell phone which decided all it would do was display a bright white screen.

Yup, technology is failing all around me, all within a few days of each other.

To top it off, a doctor at work backed into the side of my Dodge Caravan while I was leaving the hospital parkade. He took full responsibility for the accident, so at least it's one thing I don't have to pay for. But it's yet another inconvenience dealing with Autopac, the police and a repair shop.

Good thing my insurance deductible was waived. I can't believe this little dent is costing over $1,800 and taking nearly a week to repair.

Yesterday I took it into the body shop and they gave me a free loaner to use. Usually they give you the same type of car you brought in; so I was expecting another van.




Instead, they set me up with (yes, I'll have to admit) a beautiful 2008 Grand Prix. But since I was used to driving a van and snow was in the forecast, I asked that if a van became available, could I swap them? Sure enough, later in the day they found a 2007 Grand Caravan for me.

Of course, my family thought I was crazy to trade in the sporty Grand Prix for a van.

Daughter especially.

When we arrived at Enterprise, there was a fierce windstorm on. I suggested to daughter she could keep warm by waiting inside the van while I transferred our stuff from the Grand Prix. Um, it should be stated clearly here, the Caravan had yet to be turned on.

As the storm raged, I hauled all our crap stuff over while she sat and waited. But then "Christine" the Grand Caravan sprang to life on its own.

The left turn signal started clicking.

The wipers began to clear the windshield.

Daughter freaked out.

Now she swears the thing is possessed and wants the Grand Prix back.


Not one to believe in spirits, I am leaning more to the conclusion it was either:

a) The 70 Km/hr winds playing havoc with the car

or

b) The two salesguys with a spare remote inside Enterprise having a bit of fun with the teenage girl sitting alone in the dark car lot.

I simply won't admit that the Gods of Technology have it out for me yet again....

Good thing it's a lazy Sunday. Even with the extra hour, I'm sacked. Maybe it has something to do with staying up late last night watching "Gone With The Wind".

Yup, all four hours. In one sitting.

Okay, well, I did get up to nosh... but still. It's a long movie. Verrrrry long. I've watched it countless times, but rarely from start to finish.

Coincidentally, just a few days ago yet another sequel to the famous tale was announced. (Others include "Scarlett" which was received with mixed reviews in 1992, and "The Wind Done Gone" which I have yet to read). You can read more about "Rhett Butler's People" here. All this talk about Tara reminds me of something that happened at work years ago.

When I was an office manager at the hospital, two of our clerks were temporarily housed in a very old building that was due for demolition. At the time, they were the only people working there; all the other rooms had been vacated for decades. When moving them out just days before it was knocked down, I was told by the building landlord that if we saw any furniture we could use, we were welcome to remove it as well. In one of those other vacant offices, I came across a very old wooden desk I thought would be cool to have. I tested the drawers and inside one, I was surprised to find this:



It may not be a first edition, but it is an early printing. First published in 1936, this one is from 1938; the year before the movie was made. Clocking in at over 1000 pages, I love reading all the extra scenes that believe it or not, weren't in the movie. It's one of my favorite things.





Of course, I'll always wonder who the heck "Bill" and "Dorothy" are...

I was tagged by Darcy to post seven weird things about myself.

Seven? Hmmmm. This could be difficult, as I'm definitely NOT weird. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

1) I mean, is is weird that I collect the color comics from our city newspaper every week? Just because I have years of them without missing one and they are all stored in chronological order, that doesn't make me strange. Sure, my #1 priority on Saturdays is to ensure I get a newspaper; but I don't read anything in it except the comics. On more than one occassion, when hubby or daughter pick up the paper for me, they hide the comics and pretend it was missing... simply for the entertainment value of watching me wig out. So that's not weird, it provides those rascals with laughter and joy at my expense.

2) Is it strange that I've been kissed by a Droid, a Stormtrooper, a Tusken Raider, an Imperial Officer, an Admiral of the Empire and Darth Maul? No, not the nerds who dress up as these characters; now THAT would be weird. I mean the actors from the Star Wars movies. I've met many more, but these are the ones that have given me something that most Star Wars geeks don't get, since 99% of them are guys... so just 'cuz I was a female nerd, that didn't / doesn't make me weird.

3) I started to collect rocks from places I visited a few years ago: I have "land" from San Diego, L.A., Skywalker Ranch near San Francisco, Vancouver and Quebec so far. Sure, Airport Security may wonder why I pack rocks in my suitcase, but THAT'S not exactly weird either. Really.

4) I HATE, detest, abhor and generally loathe the Lima Bean. I KNOW that's not really weird, but perhaps some people might consider my picking them out of a five-bean salad as slightly demented. My mom tried her best to get me to eat them when I was small, but I couldn't... I wouldn't! My aversion to them continues to this day. *shiver*

They are vile.

'Nuff said. Not weird.

5) Is it weird to admit that Jesus flirted with me and then proceeded to give me a long bear hug while he whispered sweet nothings in my ear? Okay, not the Jesus, but Ted Neeley who played him in the movies and on stage since the early 70's. I fell in love with him on the big screen when I was 13 watching Jesus Christ Superstar for the first time. Having a crush on Jesus just seemed only blasphemous, but not weird.

6) I LOVE cranberries. Not weird in itself, but at Thanksgiving and Christmas, is it really that weird that I purposely make four times the amount we need for dinner just so I can eat them on toast, in drinks, or in muffins days later? Heck I love cranberries on anything. Errrr.... on anything but lima beans, that is. So that's definitely NOT weird.

7) I can't think of anything else that may be misconstrued as being weird. I mean, just because I was once asked for my autograph after a talk I did at a Star Wars convention, I was honored.

Okay, honestly?

Yeah.

I felt WEIRD.