Login

The Park City Paradox

Every August Jason and I head up to Park City for my chapter of the Society of Cosmetic Chemists’ annual seminar and golf outing. This event takes place at the Hotel Park City and we usually stay in one of their cottage suites while I attend. (We get a great deal so why not.) The cottage suites are definitely snooty with private Jacuzzis, patios, 3 fireplaces, and so forth and so on. Naturally you’d think that my snobbish slumber in their enormous beds, some or the most comfortable beds I’ve ever laid in, would be peaceful and perfect but no, that’s not how my night’s rest at this thing ever goes and therein lies my single grievance about our yearly Park City excursion. This event would almost feel like a retreat if it weren’t for the cruel scheduling. I have a great time but I come home feeling like a zombie in a golf skirt. Allow me to run through the proceedings at this function and explain while I complain.

The view from our cottage was, as always, beautiful.

The first bit of this outing is all about education through presentations. Yippee! Those who know me understand that I am hopelessly curious. I’m happy listening to lectures for hours while furiously scribbling notes so I was predictably engaged by this year’s talks. After a full afternoon of learning about preservatives and how to make nasty sunscreens taste sublime, our entire 50+ group headed downstairs to Ruth’s Chris for an excellent dinner. Jason decided to join us for this meal. He has always been hesitant to come to supper with this crowd even though he’s continually invited and the food at Ruth’s Chris is delicious. I think my particular brand of geek intimidates him a tad because the only circuits we care about are those generated by our evaporimeters but this year either he manned up or the thought of tasty food got the better of him. It turns out he was right to be wary of these chemists though. Our table had a 20 minute discussion about the fragrances used in Fabreze that forced Jason into the realm of cosmetic nerdery at a head-spinning pace. However, a tender fillet and big blob of mashed potatoes seemed to reduce the shock of it all on his system. Our feast wasn’t over until about 8:30 but that still left me and Jason ample time to pull out our books and relax for a few hours, something we are too occupied to do often at home.

Our golfers were numerous. It took nearly 50 carts to seat us all.

This all sounds like a rough experience, right? Lots of excellent food and unwinding with a good read in a fancy hotel room. We scientists have a tough life that is for certain. While this may sound like the lap of luxury, let me assure you that luxury knows no alarm clock. The golfing on the second day of our meeting starts absurdly early and that’s what always gets me. I’m up in Park City. I’m staying in a super nice room with a bed that’s feathery and soft but I never sleep well because I know I have to get up at 5:00 AM or thereabouts. The ease of it all is kind of lost when you wake up in the middle of the night and realize you have to be up for real in an hour.

My golf team was not lucky to have me among them but I did contribute a few good swings to our cause.

Despite my grumblings about its timing, the golfing is surprisingly enjoyable every year. I am a pretty horrendous golfer, make no mistake, but I don’t take myself too seriously so I can still enjoy that which I suck at. The lessons I took last summer and the couple visits Jason and I have made to the driving range this year have definitely helped me play less awfully. I know how to stand correctly now and grip my clubs but I am still a beginner with a capital B. Regardless, I always have fun with whatever team I am placed on and occasionally my shots do end up being useful.

The SCC summer outing in Park City is a strange mix of recreation, learning, leisure, and exhaustion. Instead of being cooped up in the office I get to practice my swing in the sweet sunshine but I don’t get to enjoy my fluffy bed like I would on a real break. It’s being on the brink of a vacation without actually getting all the perks of one that’s the killer. Sometime I’d like to stay at the Hotel Park City when I don’t have to rise before the sun’s even thinking about it. Until then, you can all keep rolling your eyes at my “hard” life.

Rachel August 29, 2012 No Comments

The Return of the Con

Going to Comic-Con changes your perspective on life. You’ll never whine again about brief delays checking out at the grocery store when you’ve waited in line for hours and hours with literally thousands of people. Star sightings will seem mundane after you’ve been surrounded on all sides by celebrities. Sneaking ninjas and throngs of superheroes invading your personal space won’t even make you blink twice. Yes, once you have been to Comic-Con there is no going back to your pre-Con preconceptions.

The members of our large group went their separate ways for the most part during the day but we met up to share our daily tales over dinner.
I'm pretty sure that just being in Tim Burton's presence made my brother nervous. Watching Beetlejuice as a kid scarred him for life. I, however, enjoyed listening to crazy Tim.
Jason definitely belongs with these other scoundrels.

Last year Jason and I had our first stupefying Comic-Con experience. Our recount of its fabulousness must have bedazzled everyone because this year a group of friends joined us. My brother Drew, his wife Simone, Jeremy Rowley, his wife Amber, and Jason’s coworker Dan all decided to come and miraculously everyone managed to acquire those mythical tickets.

The streets outside the convention center were always congested with humanity.
All of the actual Batmobiles were on display at Comic-Con. Batastic! This is the 1966 version from the TV series.
This picture only represents about half of the Firefly panel members. I wouldn't want you to explode into fits of jealousy by showing you everyone that was there.

Comic-Con this time around felt very similar to last year. The eternal lines were everywhere, the elaborate costumes were as prolific as Mario’s mushrooms, and the smelly masses still hadn’t discovered deodorant. Once again we rose before the sun or the sane to claim our spots for the panels from our favorite shows. Yes, Comic-Con was the same mess of marketing and humanity but this time Jason and I had changed. We were no longer Padawans; we were the Comic-Con Masters. We weren’t awed and overwhelmed by the omnipresent famous. We knew better than to take volunteers’ conflicting directions as fact and we anticipated spending most of our time standing in line. With that said, it would be erroneous to assume that our Comic-Con familiarity led to letdowns. Just because we were Con veterans doesn’t mean we didn’t totally nerd-out from predawn to long after dusk. We expected chaotic awesomeness and that’s what we got.

Bumblebee and I were just little guys next to Optimus' massive trunks.

The most awesome of that awesomeness? Meeting Brent Spiner, AKA Mr. Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation. Lifetime dream fulfillment? Check. Brent was not disappointing in person; he was very witty and clever. Jason made me confess my teenage Data crush to him. (Thanks a lot for ratting me out Jason.) He took it quite well. My admission actually didn’t seem to surprise him one bit but he did appear a little stunned that I had followed up my taste for tasty androids with a marriage to a common earthman.

We traveled down 5th Avenue Flash style because we were just too fast to move any other way.
The exhibit floor at Comic-Con is full of surprises like meeting yourself.
The Bunker, South Park's art department, was full of friendly animators.
Our hotel room had a nice view of the bay. Not that we got to enjoy it much since we were never in our room.

Along with encountering celebrities up-close, we saw oodles of them on stage at the multitude of superb panels we attended: Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 2, Frankenweenie, Oz, Wreck-it Ralph, Masquerade 101, History of the Modern Zombie, Legend of Korra, Spotlight on Ben Edlund, Designing for the Undead, and Minimates Turn 10. While I enjoyed learning about the psychology of the post-apocalyptic and hearing from Tim Burton, Sam Raimi, Mila Kunis, Sarah Silverman, and John C. Reilly, my favorite panel this time was Firefly: 10 Year Anniversary. Joss Whedon, Nathan Fillion, and a number of the other cast members were present. The audience was so appreciative and supportive of these stars that by the end our standing ovation had most, if not all, of them in tears. I was moved by them being moved so I ended up crying a bit myself. It was moving. What a fantastic panel! By the way, if you haven’t watched Firefly I would highly recommend it; then you will understand why the Fox network is run by morons.

Hasbro is launching a line of Star Trek toys soon. I'll be purchasing buckets of those no doubt.
A league of steam punkers? Now that's might misty.

While the panels were delightful, they didn’t monopolize our attention. We had to leave some time for the enormous and illustrious exhibit hall. The Comic-Con exhibit hall is as full of surprises as a Klingon in a barbershop. No matter how much time you spend wandering around the thousands of booths you’ll always discover more must-have geeky merchandise that you missed last time you wandered by. You’ll also stumble upon famous people left and right. That’s how we came across the members of The Bunker, which do animation work for South Park, and Max Brooks, the author of The Zombie Survival Guide. Needless to say, we purchased a lot of autographed wares on the exhibit floor. I even had an anime version of myself drawn by comic book artist Ashley Riot; I affectionately refer to it as “animeMe.”

Everyone needs a wooden moustache or two and the vendors at Comic-Con were happy to provide.
I never much cared for Sand People and their annoying vocals but I did appreciate this creative costuming.

Yes, our familiarity with Comic-Con led to less “wow” this year but not less enjoyment. We knew we were dumping ourselves into the stinky melting pot of nerd culture and that we might emerge with the white hand of Saruman painted across our chest but we wouldn’t regret it. And what about the noobs? They had a great time and are already plotting how to maximize their Comic-Con experience next year with less funds, less sleep, and less showering. Will Jason and I be there next year? If Picard’s crew can make it so we probably can too but I think we’ll stick with a Con plan that includes bathing.

Rachel July 20, 2012 1 Comment

Lego My Lego

P.C.G.s AKA perpetually collective geeks: you know the type. These are the oddballs that stash giant Tupperware containers in their basements full of worthless toys that they felt compelled to purchase because only limited quantities were available and nerdiness demanded it. The habits of these hopeless geeks are the subject of my rant today or, more specifically, the habits of this hopeless geek for I too buy nerd. Now those of you that consider yourselves among the “too cool” and are about to commence with disapproving head shaking – hold on. You need not bother shuddering in annoyance because I, like the rest of the eternally pasty, am way too dorky to care about your endorsement or purported coolness.

Yes, I am the proud owner of all sorts of sci-fi and fantasy models, dolls, and action figures. I have Enterprise replicas that I painted myself and that look it. I possess Twilight Barbies with glittery skin. Lord of the Rings speaking Sauron doll? Yeah, I’ve got one of those too. The average person might be appalled by what I’ve deemed worthy of accumulating but my zealous stashing remains undeterred.

I don't have a favorite Minifigure, too many of them are awesome, but the elf, mad scientist, and barbarian warrior are definitely among my preferred.

Over the last year or two I have started amassing Lego Minifigures. These little guys are comically detailed and at around $3 apiece the price is right for stockpiling. They come in sealed wrappers identified only by the applicable series so part of the fun is trying to figure out which packages contain the guys you are missing. Sure, this means you spend a very long time in the store feeling up little men and that you end up with five soccer players when you really just needed one werewolf but those unmarked wrappers also mean you get the rush of surprise each time you cut one of them open. There’s nothing like the anticipation of tearing into a fresh Minifigures package with insides unknown. Two out of three nerds agree that it’s even better than unwrapping a mail-order bride.

I now have about 75 Minifigures and I’m ready to go out and purchase Series 7, the latest group to be released. I haven’t decided yet if I’ll go the extra hoarding mile and buy a whole box of these toys, like I did for Series 6, but I just might. Why limit yourself to a few men when you can have 60?

I permitted some of my little men to have a fieldtrip out of their box in order to facilitate an epic good vs. evil battle.

My little dudes may be plentiful but that doesn’t mean they’re too numerous for spoiling. I stow them away stylishly in a Lego specific container where neither dust nor gawking can diminish their mintiness. Only the best for my mini men.

Now that you have the scoop on my nerdy little habit remember to judge not lest ye be judged. Despite the wisdom of that timeless counsel I’m guessing many of you have concluded that only the geekiest of rejects would stoop to collecting toys meant for the infantile. You would be correct but I dare you to try buying a few of these chaps without getting sucked in by their miniature kilts, mullets, and skateboards. It’s impossible. You’ll find that you too are powerless against the appeal of their tiny banana peels. So don’t point a critical finger at me when the truly geekiest of rejects lurks somewhere beneath the disguise of your non-greasy skin just waiting for the right Lego man in a Godzilla suit to call it out.

Rachel June 27, 2012 No Comments
 Categories

Recent Posts

Recent Comments
Blogroll