Facebook update

Mere hours in and ...

Holy crap. Ho. Lee. Crap.

I've got some serious e-mail to get started on.

Andy, Andy, Andy ... where have you been, old man? My sophomore year roommate at BU. Crazy.

I owe Jess big time for keeping up with everyone much better than I ever did; her hard work is paying off unexpectedly ... for ME!

Now on Facebook.

... and then there were four.

I'm on Friendster (which I hardly ever use - maybe once every two months, if I remember to check), MySpace (which I check daily), LinkedIn, and now, per recommendation of others, I'm over on Facebook, too.

http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=559728276

That said, I hope that's it. I can't (won't?) keep up with (too many) others. :)

Anyway, there you go.

Celtics uniforms

A quick thought while I sit watching the Celtics beat up on the Pistons in Game 5:

Though I'm sure the NBA would be reluctant at first (the possibility of increased revenue / merchandise sales can be a powerful factor), I think the names on all of the Celtics uniforms should have " O' " preceding players' last names.

Instead of Pierce, Allen, Garnett, and Rondo, the jerseys would acknowledge the team's "gimmick" and say O'Pierce, O'Allen, O'Garnett, O'Rondo, and so on.

You can't tell me that replicas and t-shirts wouldn't bring in an assload of cash, especially in the Boston area.

This would be huge, I'm telling you.

Edit: When I wrote this, they were beating up on the Pistons. I'm glad they just held on at the end. Phew!

Remember when ... ?

Thanks to Ryan for finding this:

What happened? Oh yeah ... this guy.

Linkage

A couple of things I bookmarked for whatever reason the past couple of days.

• The Black Oven - "Immaculate confections succumbed to northern darkness."

This looks like a blog in its early stages; delicious death-metal flavored pastries via our Nordic overlords. Seriously.

• Dethklok Busts - via GameArtisans.org

I wish I knew how to do this stuff. I don't know what I'd do with that kind of knowledge, of course, but still ... bragging rights count for something, right?

• Grand Theft Auto 4 / New York City comparison shots

I haven't picked up the game (yet), but this is pretty impressive even if you're not a gamer. Liberty City landmarks vs. their real-life inspirations. Cool stuff.

• Manny Being Manny

You've seen this, right? Under the video display, click on "Ramirez's amazing catch - Watch" for a larger display.


This is why Manny's worth every single penny he's paid. Watch the fan in the stands after the catch. Awesome. Wait for the replay, too, for a better view.

• RetroSabotage

Classic video games, not quite the way you remember them. Give them time, especially the Pac Man ones, for the twist. What if the ghost realizes he's a ghost, for instance? Can you play Tetris on two boards at the same time? What if you try to CONTAIN a breakout instead of tearing down the walls?

That wasn't so bad after all.

My shame - and believe me, I'm not proud of this whatsoever - is that before my appointment today, I hadn't been to a dentist in ... gosh, honestly, I don't even know how long. At least 10 years, I'd say, though it's entirely possible (probable) that it's been even longer than that.

My last job in PDX didn't offer dental insurance, and though I'm sure I could have gotten an appointment under Nicole's coverage, I never did. About two weeks ago, though, I happened to catch a new angle of the back of my lower teeth, and I was horrified by the tartar buildup. Nicole was kind enough to get some recommendations from her co-workers and set up appointments for both of us.

I arrived at the office with some paperwork and my insurance card, but I had to admit to them that the information I could present would be very limited at best. No, I'm not on any medications, and no, I haven't had any reactions to any medications in the past (primarily because I haven't taken any, primarily because I haven't seen a doctor in at least that long, either). And did I have the name and address of my last dentist? HA!

So they pretty much started from square one and did some x-rays and used some kind of water pressure hose thingy to loosen the tartar, and then they scraped the fronts and backs of my teeth to remove what had been loosened up. Debridement, they called it.

Don't read the next paragraph.

What came out of my mouth when I rinsed was a bloody rust-colored mix of various chunks and particles. It was sort of like when you turn your keyboard over and shake it, and all sorts of stuff you never thought could be trapped in there falls out. I think I saw a whole chicken wing and three popcorn kernels. It was gross.

But, I have to say, my mouth mostly feels better for the effort. I'm not used to holding my jaw open like that, of course, so I'm sore, but my teeth definitely feel cleaner, though the sensation on my tongue when I feel the back of my lower teeth is a strange one. I can feel where there's still some build-up and where scraping was successful. And I still have a sort of a bloody aftertaste lingering in my mouth, which is just fantastic. But considering how long it had been, the news wasn't nearly as bad as I had been preparing myself for.

The bottom line is that I have to go back in two weeks, but my gums are healthy and I don't have any serious issues. They might have to do "a small filling", whatever that means, but they said they wouldn't have to do "a deep cleaning" (of the teeth below the gums). They're also going to "polish" my teeth (I have no idea what that entails), and we're going to talk about what needs to be done with my wisdom teeth, which never really came in the right way. They're not painful - yet - but I was told that the way they came in could pose problems later on in life, and it might be best to have them removed. They're going to have the rest of my x-rays developed by then, too.

I just hope everything is covered by a couple of co-payments, because I know how quickly dental costs can add up. The money saved on the cleaning and maintenance side of things will be used, quite possibly, on orthodontic work.

My receding hairline never bothered me as much as my crooked teeth, so I'm probably going to do something about it.
Invisilign, perhaps.

In other health news, I'm tired and feeling bloated, my nose is stuffed, and I have a sore throat. Good times, especially right in front of a long weekend that will include a roadtrip to Cooperstown.

I hope to NyQuil the hell out of this thing and nip it in the bud. WIsh me well.

No-No!

Just Say No
Lester Adds Historic Chapter
Inning-By-Inning Breakdown

I love you, Keith Olbermann

Part I

Part II

I asked William H. Macy a question

Edit: The movie name was "The Deal", not "The Plan".
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Just for the record, I realize the photos below might not match up with the specific text that they're supposed to. The formatting I used when composing this blog seems to get messy, photo-wise, given that the borders/margins are different in the editor than here on sonicplague.com or the blogspot site. Gotta work on that.

I still owe what will be another longish entry about the New York Film Critics movie series we've been attending for the past seven Wednesdays, but in the short term, a quick note about last night's events.

The film shown was "The Deal", starring William Macy and the carved remains of what used to be Meg Ryan. It's an indie, though a pretty big budget one, by the looks of it. Long story short, Macy's a suicidal filmmaker who sweet talks his way into making a $100 million film starring LL Cool J, an action hero who has recently turned to Judaism. Sure, why not.

Anyway, I'll give details of the actual film later on (it's probably not worth seeing). The special guest for the evening, though, was Mr. Macy himself, which was very exciting. He's a real deal movie star, and I've always appreciated his work, even if he himself is better than the majority of the movies he's in.

After the film, Peter Travers (the Rolling Stone film critic) opened the Q&A up to the audience and I was the first to raise my hand for a question. Thus, I was the first to get the microphone. I stood up and said (this is almost verbatim, because - believe me - I rehearsed it in my head several times before asking it aloud):

"First of all, I'd like to thank Mr. Macy for being here with us tonight."

(Appropriate audience applause. To this point, I'm KILLING!)

"Your performance in 'Fargo' is one of my personal all-time favorites, but what I really appreciate about your work is that you tend to take unusual roles, or roles that might be as obvious as others. That's why I got excited to see, when I looked on IMDB.com, and I hope this is true, that you're attached to appear in 'House of Re-Animator'. Is this true, and, if so, how did you get involved with it?"

That's right. Mr. Big-Shot movie star comes to New Jersey and what's he hit with in the very first question - his wife, a star of "Desperate Housewives"? His Academy Award nomination? The movie we just saw?

Nope. A question about a film that's not even being shot yet. The fourth sequel in a series based on an H.P. Lovecraft story about zombified re-animated corpses.

I think I threw him off a little bit. If you knew the audience at this film series - mostly older (Nicole and I are probably 20-30 years younger than 90% of the attendees), mostly affluent - you'd know that the question was even funnier, because NOBODY there knows what the "Re-Animator" is. And if they saw it, they'd be horrified.

Mr. Macy laughed and started talking a bit about his long-time friendship with director Stuart Gordon, who asked him if he'd be interested in playing the President of the United States (who dies and is brought back to life).

Peter Travers stepped in and sort of re-directed the question to something about David Mamet, trying to bring the audience back into things, but Mr. Macy was a trooper and told a couple of anecdotes, and then pretty much just re-iterated, to conclude my question, that he was doing it because he was friends with the director.

It wasn't a great answer, but then again, it wasn't exactly a great question, either.

But how often do you get to ask an Oscar nominee a question about being in a zombie movie?

I kick ass.

And so does William H. Macy, a genuinely cool guy.

There Will Be Blood

(Edit: upon re-reading this entry, I realize that I switch verb tenses a couple of times. Usually this makes me crazy, but I'm too lazy to fix it right now.)

Once again, a recap of something that happened a few days back. May 10, 2007.

Perhaps a bit of back history would be worthwhile:

1. Joey is incredible around other people - he couldn't be friendlier, and he's remarkably gentle. He doesn't jump up, he doesn't open his mouth (he's not ven a licker of faces/hands), and he doesn't get overly excited.

Around other dogs, though, he can get a little skittish; his first six years are pretty much a mystery, but we think there may have been competition for food or attention with other dogs, as he gets defensive and a bit growly around them. We're slowly trying to get him used to being around other animals (the eight Friday nights' worth of training classes with other dogs helped), but when we're out walking around the neighborhood, there are LOTS of other dogs, and we tend to keep him a safe distance from them most of the time, just to be safe.

2. His walks, because I'm a sucker who can't keep him on a tight leash, tend to be long and meandering.

3. On this particular Saturday, it had rained heavily all day. Dirt patches became mud puddles, and the grass was slippery.

OK. So Joey and I headed out for our last walk of the day at about 9:45 p.m.

Our usual walking route is a loop around our neighborhood. We had gotten to the side of the loop opposite our apartment, about halfway through the walk, when Joey started sniffing around a bush. Up a short hill, maybe 20 yards from where he was taking in the smells, a door opened to one of the apartments. I don't know the people who live there, but I knew they had a large sized dog, because every time we pass by, that dog barks from the window. In fact, the dog is so aggressive with his barking that the pull-down screen in the window has a giant tear in it where the dog looks out. It's as if someone cut out a silhouette of the dog's head in the blind.

The point being, even though they've never "met", that dog definitely knows who Joey is. And barks at him all the time. I can't tell if it's friendly or not.

What I didn't know was that there was another dog in that apartment, too.

The door to the apartment opens, and a woman heads out and walks to another apartment a few doors down - apparently there was a gathering of some sort taking place. As the door is open, some dude (holding the door open) starts chatting to the woman who's walking to the other apartment, and another woman, perhaps not realizing that Joey and I are slowly moving past their place at the bottom of the hill, has the two dogs' leashes in her hand, preparing to take them out for a walk.

The barking dog, realizing Joey is right there at the bottom of the hill, bolts out the door. The woman, who is perhaps not paying as much attention as she should have been, has him on one of those leashes that feeds out a distance of strap and that can be "locked" to prevent the dog from wandering too far. But she didn't have it locked, because as I see the dog bolting, I can hear the leash unwinding, almost like the line coming off the reel on a fishing pole.

Seeing Barky the Large Sized Dog run, the smaller dog also gets excited and starts to take off. In the corner of my eye, I see her trying to get control of either dog, but she seemed more concerned with the smaller one, allowing the larger one to "take control".

I turned my attention to Joey, who was blissfully unaware of anything going on. There was a bush to be sniffed, darn it. And bushes don't just sniff themselves. At this point, my back is to the doorway, and I'm trying to shorten my leash so I can guide the sometimes-skittish Joey away from the scene.

The next thing I know, the barking dog is inches from Joey's face, and they're about to get nose to nose. I don't want Joey to lunge out or start growling, so I pick him up about three feet off the ground like he's a package. A hairy, soggy, 45-lb. package. I'm used to this, as sometimes carrying him is the only way I can get him to go to his bed. My right arm is over his rear half, with my hand on his belly near his hind legs, and my left arm is cradling him underneath his neck and through his front legs. It sounds uncomfortable, but he doesn't seem to mind, and he's well supported.

By my feet, I see that one of the other dogs' leashes has wrapped around my feet and ankles, and, while still holding Joey - and with my back to the apartment, I start "marching" in place to untangle myself.

Finally, I free myself from the tangle, and Joey is, for the moment, safe from the other dog, because the guy who was at the door has come to take command of its leash.

Note again that it had been raining heavily, and that everything was soaking wet and slick.

Still holding Joey, I turn around and see ...

The woman who had the leashes in her hand at the top of the hill ... at the bottom of the hill. On her hands and knees. Picking herself up off the ground. With a rip in the knee of her pants.

And blood all over her face. Not just a little blood, either. Andrew W.K. blood.

The large dog had bolted with enough force to pull her down the hill, where she had apparently landed face-first, though I didn't see it myself.

The guy asks her if she's OK, and, holding her nose, she replies "I think it's busted."

I start apologizing profusely, and, through her fingers, I could hear her tell me it wasn't my fault, that we didn't do anything wrong (which was, I realize, absolutely true - Joey was just sniffing around a bush and was not confrontational at all). "These fucking dogs!" she tells the guy. "These fucking dogs!"

The fact that the dog bolted because of us, and now this woman had (at best) a bloody nose (I really hope she didn't chip her teeth or something worse) made me feel horrible. Not to mention it was a Saturday night, and maybe they had just concluded a fun evening, or had to trade what was about to be a night out with friends for a trip to the hospital.

I asked if there was anything I could do, and again the response was "it's OK - it's not your fault". I figured I'd just get the hell out of there, rather than make things worse somehow.

Joey, not much worse for wear, knew something had happened because of all the excitement in the air, but when I put him down and started to walk away what did he do?

That's right. He started sniffing the bush again.

He's a weird dog sometimes.

(OK, maybe not quite Andrew W.K. blood - but close. Seriously.)

Chiller Theater convention, 5/3/08

OK, so going back a week and a half ...

Nicole and I were excited to go to the Chiller Theater convention at the Parsippany Hilton hotel. If you go back a while in the blog archive (it shouldn't take long, given my lack of updates), you'll find the story of how we discovered the convention - by landing smack-dab in the middle of it by accident, the first night we spent as official residents of New Jersey. They apparently have conventions every six months or so (the next one is in October), so I was practically counting down the days in anticipation of being able to attend as a paying visitor.

I ordered advance tickets, given that they were a couple of bucks less than they would have been at the door, and I didn't want to have to wait in a line anyway. I figured with tickets in hand, we'd get there early-ish and blow through in maybe two hours. I couldn't have been further from reality with that assumption.

Just to be safe, I took out what I thought would be way too much money to need, but since one never knows what variety of awesome might happen upon us at an event like this, better safe than sorry. As it turns out, this was a good idea.

We walked through the main entrance of the hotel, only to find that the ticket-for-wristband exchange was through the building, at the rear entrance. Past the main signing area. Past two of the three wings of the hotel's first floor also being used for the convention. Past literally THOUSANDS of people milling about.

We got our wristbands, though, and didn't have to wait in the predictably growing day-of-show purchasers. Then we headed back in, thinking we'd jump into the line for the main signing area because, according to the convention program, that's were Mick Foley and Daniel Baldwin (our respective reasons for attending the convention in the first place) were supposed to be signing. A big guy in a too-tight shirt (one of MANY we saw that day, by the way) was waving people toward the wall, explaining that fire marshals were in the building monitoring how many people were in particular areas, and that if any area got too overcrowded, the marshals would shut down the show, evacuate the place, and let people in a bit at a time. With so many people there, and with the possibility of nerd/misfit anarchy running rampant, I have to commend the staff for the thankless job they actually did. But, as a result, the line we thought was going to lead us to Messrs. Foley and Baldwin actually stretched much further than we though, as we inadvertently tried to bisect the line by jumping in it at the wrong point. Nobody took exception, though, because everyone who just arrived at the convention did the same thing.

So we didn't know what to do, or where to start.

Seeing a sign pointing to one of the other first floor wings with guests, we headed down to see Jason Mewes (Jay), Marilyn Ghigliotti (Veronica, Dante's Girlfriend), and Brian O'Halloran (Dante) from "Clerks".

First of all, where was Jeff Anderson? I want Randall, dammit!

Anyway, as opposed to the main signing area, there was virtually nobody in their room when we went in - which makes it really awkward when you look at what the "stars" are charging for autographs and pictures and then decide you're going to pass. I mean, seriously. I'll talk more about the whole fee issue later in the post, but the point here is this: No offense to Marilyn Ghigliotti, who I'm sure is a lovely person, but for anyone who doesn't wipe their ass with twenty dollar bills, is her signature worth $20? $20? And then, if you wanted a photo with her, it was another $20 or $25. I don't remember.

I liked "Clerks". A lot. But spending just south of $50 for a picture and autograph of someone who's known for no other movies and kind of just looks like someone's aunt or neighbor seemed a bit steep. So I passed.

Jay Mewes was charging essentially the same prices. Sorry Noah - I passed. I hope the Mick Foley autograph will partially make up for it ... I just couldn't pull the trigger on this one. Mewes, for the record, had short cropped hair and was starting to sound a little bit like Steve-O. Apparently he's clean these days, and hope it's true, but he didn't seem very "Jay" like - which, frankly, was probably a relief. I wouldn't want to pass on an autograph and have him follow me rubbing his nipples and trying to show me his testicles.

That said, I'm sure he's also a nice guy - I saw a kid with a "Jay" action figure (I think the company that makes the Clerks line calls them "inaction figures", actually) signed. Predictably, the personalized inscription said "Snootchie Bootchie!" What an awful catchphrase.



Maybe next time, Jay ... when I have more disposable income. Not that
paying for all of the other autographs was justifiable either, I
realize, but I suppose you have to pick your battles.

However, Brian O'Halloran. Worth it. $20 got an autograph AND a photo, so I had him sign my "Clerks" soundtrack CD cover, which had been previously signed by Kevin Smith in the mid-90s when he did a Q&A screening of "Mallrats" in Harvard Square at the Brattle Theater. He's a bigger guy than I thought he'd be, somehow, and he was wearing a shirt he apparently stole from Triple H's locker.

Anyway, good guy. I said thanks, and snuck out of the room before Marilyn and Jay could wonder where their money was.

In the next rooms, we came across a bunch of McFarlane toys and a guy whittling away on something new; presumably he works for the company and was peddling his wares. He had some fun Simpsons stuff, some Halo stuff, all sorts of crazy crap I didn't recognize ... but as neat as it was, it's stuff I have no use for personally. I already have so many crazy knick-knacks and weird little toys that this stuff was out of my realm of interest.

Then we came across a couple of graphic artists who had some really
cool stuff. Given that certain brothers of ours might somehow come
across this post at some point, I will not give too many details for
fear of possibly spoiling Christmas. Needless to say, I truly hope
they are not disappointed, because I think what we got them kicks major
ass.

We bought these at the end of our day, after doing a cash
inventory and having a discussion of the merits of possible purchases.

One of the items Nicole bought was for ourselves, though. Rob Granito is an artist who has worked with Warner Brothers studios in the past, and he was selling a painting of Batman villain Scarecrow (it's 20x14, maybe? I'm terrible at estimating sizes). Nicole asked, "out of curiosity, how much is the painting", to which he replied "It's not my usual style, so it's only $100" (the others were in the $300 range, and many had "SOLD" signs on them). To which she replied, "we'll take it!".

The painting to the right now finds itself hanging in our kitchen, menacing anyone who would dare eat a bowl of cereal at the table. (For some reason, the photo came out with a pinkish hue - I'll try to post a better one later.)

We then headed into a second wing of the convention, still not ready to commit to the long line for the main signing area. We had no idea who we'd find when we turned any given corner.

Entering the first room down the hall in this wing, we were greeted - immediately at our right, at the first table in the room - by former wrestler Virgil (better known as a flunky to "The Million Dollar Man" Ted DiBiase. In fact, the banner above him had both of their names on it, leading me to believe that they both do the wrestling convention circuit together with some regularity. If DiBiase had been there, it might have been worth it, but Virgil alone ... well, not quite. My $20 was better spent on another wrestler, below. You'll understand why in a moment.).

Anyway, Virgil's a big dude. Bigger than I thought. He had a table full of photos from various stages in his career, including a glossy "n.W.o." one (no pictures of wrestlers, just the logo) pre-signed by Buff Bagwell and Scott Norton. Given that it isn't 1998, these didn't seem to be selling so well. I'd heard things about Virgil being kind of dickish to fans, but he seemed to be enjoying himself (and when we left the room, he had a little kid in a headlock while taking a picture, so more power to him. The kid had it coming.)

Also in this room were people I'd never heard of (Monique Dupree? Cynthia Gibb?), as well as Cindy Morgan ("Lacey Underall" from "Caddyshack"), Staci Keenan, who used to be on "My Two Dads" (imaginary conversation between the two of us: "So, was working with Paul Reiser as horrible as I imagine it was?" "Oh, much worse. Horribly unfunny. I can't believe I was on that show with that hack."), and William B. Davis from "The X-Files". He looks just as intimidating in real life as he does in the show. He seemed like a nice enough guy, though, judging by how he interacted with the fans at his table (though, once again, I didn't pony up personally).

The next room continued in the tradition of "I can't believe these people are all in the same room at the same time". There were some people I'd never heard of, of course, but Richard Kiel was there. Nicole and I met Mr. Kiel in Las Vegas a couple of years ago (that's where this photo was taken). You may remember him as "Jaws" from the James Bond movies. I can't speak highly enough about how genuinely wonderful he is with his fans. Just a true gentleman in every sense of the word, and if you ever have a chance to meet him, there's no way you'll think anything other than that of him.

Lou Ferrigno was in there, too. He's still all muscle. I can't believe that I'm technically the same species as he is. I almost plunked down for him ... of all my "maybe I should have" moments, in retrospect, he's number one on the list. Maybe next time.


Superstar Billy Graham - the guy who had his "look" stolen by Hulk Hogan, Jesse Ventura, Scott Steiner, among many others - was there, and he looked pretty good despite his frail physical conditions (Hip replacement, repercussions of steroids, etc.). There were a couple of b-movie (c-movie?) actresses (I recognized Tiffany Shepis from several Troma productions, for instance).


But then, in the corner of the room, in a somewhat awkward moment given that I was at the convention with my own beautiful wife - TNA Knockout Gail Kim.

Now, Nicole is a wrestling fan (in passing, at least) because I've essentially forced her to be, but even she knows that Gail Kim being released by WWE was a big mistake because the woman busts her ass in the ring and is a great performer. A statement I obviously agree with.

But man, oh man ... talk about easy on the eyes. Whooaah, baby. So even though I knew I was essentially wasting my money, I got a signature and a Polaroid with her because ... well. Damn. She's actually kind of tiny, and she's got big fake boobs, and she was wearing a glorified nighty of some sort. At least, that's the way I'm going to remember it.

Sitting next to her was Christy Hemme, whom I also almost got a picture with. Her hair's gonna fall out from all of the dying, and she wanted $40 for an autographed Playboy magazine.

The two of them were working with one guy - some sort of handler, I suppose - and they both had the same style of sign/cost sheet, so it would seem the two work together on the convention circuit regularly.

That said, a quick sidebar: Searching for information about other similar conventions (and no matter how much I swear to you I wasn't looking for this site in particular, there's no way you're going to believe me), I came across this link, which indicates that Hemme and Kim, at the Steel City Con in 2007, "[offered] a Private After Hours Bikini Photo Opportunity to a limited number of Show attendees."

Uh, yeah. I don't know what to say about that, other than that scene must have been rather awkward and potentially life-changing.

Moving on.

At this point, Nora Greenwald (aka "Molly Holly" in WWE) was also supposed to be there, but was nowhere to be found.

Knowing that the lines weren't going to get shorter as the day wore on, we finally hopped in line for the main autograph lobby. Fortunately for us, we were right behind a completely dysfunctional family that seems destined to hear the phrase "police action" more than a few times in the next few years. I don't know how we manage to end up next to these sorts of people every time, but we do. Mother to son, it went pretty much like this: "You tell him that if he doesn't get back in line now, I'm not saving his space and he'll have to go to the end!" "YOU TELL HIM!" "I swear, you'll never go to one of these again!" "SHUT UP! I'M TRYING TO SEE WHAT'S GOING ON!" And on it went. For, oh ... let's say an hour. Because they waited. And we waited. Right behind them. Good times.

Here's the scene: as we're in line, to our left was a food stand selling hot dogs, sodas, pop corn ... all sorts of junk food that was perfect for this kind of sugar-craving crowd. On the right, people passing back and forth from the main lobby area to the other wings of the convention. It was super-busy. And because Nicole and I looked like regular human beings (I specifically wore a red shirt, guessing - correctly - that the majority of the people there would be wearing black t-shirts), most people asked if they could cut through in front of us to get to wherever it was they wanted to go. It was as if I was wearing one of those bright orange "Crossing Guard" straps.

So after a while, it got annoying. Until Mick Foley walked right past us. He was huge ("a bear in a mansuit", Nicole said). They say TV puts 10 pounds on you, but I don't know where it puts them on him. He hasn't missed too many meals since his retirement, I'd say. Just walking to get some food, he drew a crowd. I felt bad, because he was just trying to get something to eat and couldn't get a moment to himself to save his life. To be honest, the first thing I thought was "NOOO! We're going to be in in a moment!" I was afraid he'd be gone a while, and we'd have to wait in the lobby area for him to come back after waiting for so long in the line just to meet him in the first place. Fortunately - so it seemed - he returned in relatively short order.

Then, a couple of minutes later, a couple of security guards decided to part the line where we were too, to let another guest pass through right past us: Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. She looks exactly the same as she did the first time I saw her on TV. Granted, she's always been pancaked in makeup, which I'm sure helps, but wow ... she looked great. She's still got her, uh, memorable features on display. She's allegedly 57, according to IMDB. Good for her.

So as we're about 20 people away from getting in, Mick Foley passes by again and informs everyone that "they're moving me to another room." NOOOO!

All that waiting, and now we had to go do it again? Dammit.

But we were at the front of the line, and we wanted to meet Daniel Baldwin anyway, so we waited it out.

Mickey Dolenz of the Monkees was there, but I had pretty much no interest. His daughter, Ami, who apparently is an actress of some sort, had her own table but nobody interested in buying her autograph. Good thing dad's famous.

Barry Bostwick was there, as was Joe Pantoliano. Armin Shimerman (of "Buffy" and one of the Star Trek shows) was there. Alan Ruck ("Cameron" from "Ferris Bueller's Day Off") was there. Avery Brooks ("Hawk" from "Spencer for Hire") was there, but there was a sign saying that "Mr. Brooks will not pose for photographs". Frank Stallone. 'Nuff said.

We headed over to the tables on the far wall; there was Brigitte Nielsen, looking kinda scary but less so than I expected. To their left, Daniel and Stephen Baldwin. Stephen had more people lined up to see him, and he seemed kind of goofy, but we finally got to Detective Beau Felton himself, Daniel, and he didn't disappoint. I think Nicole and I were about the only people there who wanted to meet him because he was on the amazing "Homicide: Life on the Street" rather than "Celebrity Rehab." Nicole took the lead and told him how much we loved the show, and he spent five or ten minutes with us talking about how much he enjoyed it, and how he was trying to get a role on Homicide writer Paul Attanasio's new show, "Courtroom K". He was a truly gracious man, very pleasant to speak to. I hope he conquers whatever personal problems he has, because I'd love to see him do something else interesting.


We continued down the line to see what else was going on. Katey Sagal was there, but she wanted $25/$20 for autographs and photos with her. Nope. $25 for an autograph is harsh enough sometimes, but if you're into meeting someone and admire someone's body of work, I understand the lure. I fell victim to it several times, actually.

But to charge that much just to take a picture with someone? That seems so wrong. I just don't dig that scene. Maybe if the money was going to charity or something, but ... I don't know. Katey Sagal?

And to her left, The Bionic Woman, Lindsay Wagner. Eh. I took a pass just because I wasn't terribly interested.

So we left to find Mick Foley again. We thought we'd try the room that the other wrestlers were in and hit paydirt immediately. His table was sort of blocked off by someone else's line, so we scooted right up as soon as I saw an opening. Rather than saying something completely stupid, I went with "Nice to meet you" and "Thanks!" and went on my way. I got my first-edition copy of "Have a Nice Day!" signed, picked up an autographed Cactus Jack photo for Noah, and had Nicole take this awesome photo for me:

Looking over to his right, I saw that Nora Greenwald had arrived, so I went to her table as well. She looks really skinny these days, barely recognizable as the former "Molly Holly". She was very pleasant as well. But she signed her name as "Molly", which is weird, because that's not even her real name.

I don't know.

Anyway, we finally left about 5 hours after we got there, having spent more time and money than we expected, and despite the unusual crowd and the long lines, it's kind of nice to know that October's just a few months away.

I can't wait to see who they line up for the next one!

Dig the new design?

I'm trying to learn how to use Adobe Dreamweaver to reconstruct the design on the Sonic Plague site (or make it an even bigger mess - with Flash applications!), but if you're reading this on the blogspot location, you won't notice any difference, because I'm too lazy to update that site too. I'm lucky to get just one done. Wish me luck. I like it so far, though. Music and some photos (Mick Foley!) on the right, some links on the left ... old blog nonsense in the middle that needs updating.

This old dog needs to learn some new tricks.

Speaking of dogs, there'll be a good entry upcoming regarding Joey's walk on Saturday night, and it will be entitled "There Will Be Blood". (Joey's fine, I promise.)

And I have to tell you all about the Chiller Theater convention last weekend. Completely surreal (and a little expensive).

But I'm going to update, I swear!