Velma Dinkley: Scooby-Doo’s Original Geek Girl Goes High-Tech Ghosting

Category : Entertain Me, Featured, Geek Out, Television

Freddy Jones: With these cameras set up around the house, we’ll be able to watch and record anything that comes after my dad. There’s only one problem; I’m a trap guy. I have absolutely no idea how this stuff works.

Velma Dinkley: Don’t worry. I’ve been stripping dielectric insulation off my coax since before I could walk. Get ready to worship The Velma!

Velma takes one for the team at DragonCon. Photo: Rob Speed

Velma takes one for the gang at DragonCon. Photo: Rob Speed

Just as 21st C. CGI and fantasy SFX finally caught up with Tim Burton’s imagination, 21st C. ghost-hunting gizmos and paranormal paraphernalia finally caught up with the original Geek Girl, Velma Dinkley and her tech needs. Allow Moi, your own Miss Hannah Hart, ghostdame of the Hotel del Coronado to elucidate.

The Mystery Machine keeps on truckin'.

The Mystery Machine keeps on truckin’.

See, kids, before there were tacky, black ops wannabe, caravans of windowless, black Suburbans cruising the countryside at night, there was the Mystery Machine: the epitome of groovy, a rockin’, hippie, aqua-and-orange surfer van carrying four hip, sleuthing friends and their ever-hungry, always scaredy-cat, Great Dane named Scooby-Doo.

Scooby, Shaggy, Freddy, Daphne and Velma have been hitting the road in style, in the Mystery Machine for nearly thirty-five years, meddling in the nefarious affairs of grouchy, greedy locals: these wayward townfolk oft disguised as the supernatural in a variety of form and function. Although Velma Dinkley, short, curvy,  turtlenecked, know-it-all, bobbed-brunette, appears the wallflower of the gang, she is the bespectacled brains behind this adventure crew, forever playing second fiddle to the beauteous ginger, Daphne Blake. To boot, like any geek girl in love from afar, her passion for Shaggy goes mostly unrequited, sitting backseat to the shared loves between a boy and his dog: mad sandwich skillz and Vincent van Ghoul flicks.

Interpersonal issues aside, the Hanna-Barbera creation (1969) of Joe Ruby and Ken Spears just finished its eleventh iteration of the family-friendly, spooky, sleuthing series: Scooby-Doo!: Mystery Incorporated (2010-2013). The first incarnation not run first as a Saturday morning kids’ show, this latest series contains a running, arcing mystery involving an antique locket and a Tod Browningesque parrot named Mr. E. The overarching tale knits in and out of fifty-two episodes which originally aired on Cartoon Network in a 2:00p.m., afterschool time slot, over a spotty three-year period. If you missed its original run, S1 is now available via Netflix.

A Warner Bros. Animation, Mystery Inc., shares the same quality as many another WBA production: Pinky & The Brain, Animaniacs and just about any Looney Tunes short. The writers understand adults are watching, too. The genius and longevity of such entities as The Muppets, Disney and Warner Bros. comprehend that vital, full-spectrum hook.

“Grab this! It’s a fairway wood, it’s safe!” Freddy Jones puns as he extends a golf club toward the ceiling to save his dad, Mayor of Crystal Cove, who’s being tossed around the room by a violent poltergeist. A fine example of WBA humour, indeed.

Now, some three decades of understated humour and Witching Hour investigations later, Velma Dinkley has access to an arsenal of high-tech ghost-hunting tools she’s been waiting for and, paired with Freddy’s Traps Illustrated obsession, mystery solving in 2013 could not be easier. An excellent example of this? Scooby-Doo!: Mystery Incorporated, “A Haunting in Crystal Cove” (S1e23).

Although the supernatural inevitably end up just being rubber-masked, servo-driven, CGI-enhanced townfolk, the front-end of any Scooby-Doo endeavor has the best of spirit-hunting intentions, entrenched in the hunt for the unexplained. Whilst Daphne’s smokin’ hot-pink getaway sticks get more screen time than Velma’s digital, detecting devices, you know she has them stashed somewhere and puts them through more tests and trials than a Wired product reviewer.

  • Full-spectrum cameras: Velma’s got the hammer-and-nails of any pro ghost-hunting outfit. No consumer-grade for this kitten; she’s gone pro-grade with a modified 16GB card-compatible, 18x zoom, 12.2 MP resolution, dual image stabilization Fuji PRO series. (I think our Dr. Lucy might be jealous and/or nervous. Time for a new camera and/or better hiding places, Lucia!) Set up a string of these babies in any room and along any stairwell, hallway or doorway and they’ll catch the invisible light waves, and the clandestine action therein, at either end of the light spectrum, a.k.a. infrared and UV, where we spookies reside.
  • EVP monitor: Similar to a baby monitor, it picks up cooing and gurgling throughout the netherworld via telepathic electromagnetic impulses, all while weeding out external, earthly noises. Babies, too, I guess.
  • EMF detector: With Southron gatorpeople and evil, Renaissance Faire gnomes lurking about the night, Velma will need a gauge identifying varying electromagnetic fields. It seems high EMF readings could not only signify a cluster of electrical wires bundled in attic walls and giving you monster headaches and hallucinations, but it could also signify the very real energy of Demon Frightnight. It would be good to know with which one you’re dealing. Trust me.
  • After the biscuits, come the gravy: tricolor flashlights (full colour spectrum for night vision and clarity), laser grids (for detecting disembodied movement), thermal imaging cams, temperature change sensors, wireless phone pods and headphones (for on-the-go listening to iPods, mp3s and EVPs), FM frequency sweep radios and shadow detection devices (for, well, detecting shadows).
  • Best of all is the creepiest of all: the Rag Doll K-II, sold by TheGhostHunterStore.com. An EMF detector hidden within Dolly’s dress, it’s meant to be a kinder, gentler object for child-spirits to approach than boring old, shiny, sharp, tech gear. If Spookedy Ann’s face or hands light up … you might have a ghost child. ~shiver~ Run, kittens, run!

Clearly, Velma doesn’t schlep all this gear to each and every mystery. We rarely see more than a Smartphone and Coke-bottle glasses on her person. If she did, the Mystery Machine would be packed to the gills, with cables, power sources and monitors alone, rather than housing just Shaggy, Scooby and their various to-go feasts in the back. Still, the instruments and implements appear when necessary. Maybe Velma stores them at the back of her mom’s coffeehouse/bookstore/town museum.

Long before the stars of reality TV’s paranormal invasion were just filthy thoughts in their fathers’ eyes, Scooby-Doo and his groovy gang were criss-crossing the Southern swamps, abandoned theaters, run-down plantation homes, dilapidated boardwalks and rusted-out amusement parks across our great, haunted country. Long before nice guys Grant & Jason of SyFy’s Ghost Hunters, before those thug half-portions Nik, Aaron & Zak of Travel Channel’s Ghost Adventures and before the moody Ryan and Eilfie of A&E’s Paranormal State, there was the affable, hip, fashionable, cheerful Scooby-Doo and the Gang. You won’t find Freddy schlubbing around in jeans and a black t-shirt to meet the Lord of the Manor. (Okay, Shaggy is, well, a bit shaggy; but at least he sports corduroys and is almost always flashing a smile.)

Get ready to worship The Velma! Photo: Rob Speed

Get ready to worship The Velma! DragonCon Photo: Rob Speed

Even before we were blessed with The X-Files‘ Scully and Mulder, our grunge-era, supernatural sleuths extraordinaire, there was another skeptical but open-minded, saucy, brainy, bespectacled, over-achieving, single, geek girl with a short do and sensible shoes who was so fierce, so confident and so rockin’ she needed only one name: Velma. Rock on, Velma. (BTW, kids, if you see any new episodes with the Mystery Machine crossing the bridge onto Coronado, give me a heads-up! Lucy and I might need to hit the road!)

Abyssinia, kids!

 

Hannah’s fave places to haunt online? JennyPop.net and amazon.com/author/jenniferdevore

Follow @JennyPopNet #scoobydoo #velma #ghosthunting #geekgirls

Huzzah! Gamer Girls’ Watering Hole: Nerdcore Night at The Ruby Room

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Category : Conventions, E-vents, Entertain Me, Featured, Game On, Geek Out, Geek Rants, Good To Be A Gamer, San Diego Comic Con, Television, Travel, Uncategorized

 ”This is a war they started and, by God, we’ll finish it.” -former Britsh P.M., Margaret Thatcher

NorCal Gamer Grrls: Touch Chicas. Photo: Gary Dev

Vulcan ears, steampunk corsets, film-accurate weaponry, hot gamer girls and hard-boiled hooch. Slosh it all into a legendary, San Diego fun zone and you’ve blended up a tangy, spicy, smoking hot extravaganza.  No, not Comic-Com, but that is coming soon, kittens. (BTW, yours truly will be on the floor and covering it live for the good folks here at GoodToBeAGeek! Costume? Still up in the air. Any ideas? I’ve narrowed it to Bellatrix Lestrange, Morticia Addams, Snow White or Ruby Red Riding Hood: the latter both of ABC’s Once Upon a Time. Drop a line here or @JennyPopNet and let me know which character you’d prefer!)

Speaking of Ruby Red, there’s a bonkers-wild nightclub right here in my own backyard, just moments from my haunt at the Hotel del Coronado. Welcome to The Ruby Room. Mis en scène amidst the ever active, far-too-hip-for-thou, Hillcrest crawl of downtown San Diego, The Ruby Room offers not only a hardcore, real drinking atmos, but also a nerdcore, real gaming atmos. Hang up your cloak and check your blasters; it’s The Ruby Room’s very own Nerdcore Night. It’s not Comic-Con, but it’s a damn fine tease.

As with many a social movement, Nerdcore Night was born out of a frustration of  social-marginalizing and a need for unity amongst a growing, yet still underestimated subculture of a subculture. The case in study? Gamer girls, oft maligned by the gamer boys they’ve so frequently pwned. Nerdcore Night was divined by Miss Aubree Miller, a partner in the eclectic  TheGamerGirls.com, a geek girl-oriented, lifestyle website encompassing more than the domain implies: music, entertainment, conventions, cosplay, art and design, fashion and so much more nerdy, girly goodness. The hook? These Gamer Girls are bonkers-hot!

Now, all you Modern Millies, riddle me this. Why call attention to such optics? Why feed today’s insensitive, insulting, brutal, throw-away, aesthetics machine? I’ve been fighting sexism since long before I died in 1934, and in Hollywood, to boot. Murder! That’s some serious skirt-chasing around the desk! From what I can tell, you contemporary chickadees carry a lot of huevos in your Louis bags. You know you’re red hot, no matter what mold you do or do not fit. You’ve got a confidence not seen since the Roaring Twenties ditched those Edwardian stuffed-shirts. You’ve got it in spades, and then some, and don’t seem to care a whit who likes it. So, why waste time proving something to that microband of worthless, useless, infantile, misogynist, insecure, fink gamers?

Lauded and gender neutrally-revered dorkettes like Katrina Hill, Adrienne Curry and Jill Pantozzi know they’re aces-beauteous. While mathematical, symmetrical beauty might be the first visual cue you get on these three, it’s definitely not the last thing you’ll remember about them. Amongst this geek girl triad exists an amalgam of journalists, writers, authors, models, TV personalities, comic book aficionados, film theorists, personal band-strategists, wicked WOW gamers, whip-smart businesswomen, fragile hearts, irreverent, humourous, kind, protective and loyal Earthlings. These  broads might understand and shrewdly calculate the value of their charms to bring in unique fans, readers and viewers; but similar to a Harvard or William & Mary legacy, just getting beyond the hallowed brick walls doesn’t cut it. Once they’re being scrutinized, these ladies have to deliver, from the brain as well as the hip.

Left to right: Katrina Hill, Action Chick; Jill Pantozzi, The Nerdy Bird & Adrienne Curry, Mistress of the Dorks Photo courtesy of Katrina Hill

 

Still, all you other dames, isn’t that quiet beauty of yours, the fact that you know you’re pretty, plus so much more, enough to carry yourself like royalty, no matter where you trod? Haven’t all you Millenium muffins come far enough by 2012 that proving you’re a looker to a bunch of greaseballs and strangers online doesn’t matter a hill of beans? Apparently not in the gaming world. Miller says this facet of technology and entertainment is still flush with “female gamers who feel animosity from male gamers.”

According to Miss Miller, in a May 2012 interview with Chad Deal for San Diego Reader, “Whenever a girl beats a guy over, say, Xbox live or whatever, a ton of messages immediately start piling in about how you must be a fat stoner loser chick to have beat them at a game. Boys are petty. We use actual female gamers on [TheGamerGirls.com] who are hot to prove these kinds of boys wrong. Honestly, girls just want gaming equality.” (Please, feel free to read the whole interview, Nerdcore Night – A Safe Place to Geek … but, come back, okay?!)

I don't think this is sanitary. Photo by Jason Anfinsen

 

 

 

 

Jessa Phillips, keen pally, hard-line gamer girl and editor-in-chief of GoodToBeAGeek.com follows and covers gaming passionately: most notably, her Good To Be A Gamer weekly podcast with fellow geek David Lucier. Miss Jessa has had wild experiences with sexism in the gaming world and is cuckoo for Nerdcore puffs. She digs the concept of a night where chicas can get together, talk shop, listen to some tuneage, drink and not worry about some rude boy in Singapore, Bangalore, Seattle or Sack-of-tomatoes slinging personal insults and misogynist hate like cream pies in a Laurel & Hardy flick. Jessa knows her stuff, so when some dude calls her a hack, he’d best step off unless he’s complementing her Hack n’ Slash gaming style.

Playing since Nintendo hit the shelves, Jessa is bonkers for first-person shooting (FPS) and not frightened off by the violence amidst her fave games which, according to her, “also incorporate some amazing world building and storytelling”: God of War, Call of Duty: Black Ops, Gears of War, Mass Effect, BioShock and Assassin’s Creed. Just because she’s a gamer patootie, she’d rather not be identified as such.

“I do not believe that women who play games need to be singled out as a specific market segment. Developers should not be making games aimed to draw in female gamers. We are, regardless of gender, gamers. The difference between me and another gamer is the games we play. That is all,” Jessa states.

Even so, she’s suffered from unwarranted sexism. Seemingly innocuous, when pre-ordering the original God of War, she was questioned and quizzed by the store clerk, certain she was buying for a man in her life, certain “a woman would shy away from the graphic violence and sexual mini-game this title promised.”  That was simple ignorance and most likely lacking any malice. Her first experience with down home, good old-fashioned, blatant sexism? Enter Call of Duty: Modern Warfare.

“I was not so naïve as to use a gamer tag that would immediately give away my gender. However, as soon as I spoke my gender was known and it was all over. I will admit, I am not the most skilled gamer, particularly when it comes to shooters. That being said, gameplay has never been my problem. The constant debasing verbal vomit some players spew at the idea that a woman is in their game. A woman can only bear so much trash talk and when she attempts to defend herself, is instantly label a b*tch which only furthers the issue. It is the targeted mean-spirited attitude towards female gamers in online multiplayer gaming that turned me away from the online space and into a single-player gamer.”

Jessa’s feeling a little better about online gaming as days go by; more women are entering the field of play and more men are even coming to the defense of women getting a verbal bullying. She also has a final bit of advice for the loser whom deigns to dis her during her next round, “So I get pwned by a better player, maybe even targeted due to my gender. I’m a big girl, I can take it. Being the man trashing a women who just pwned you with your friends standing by? Just makes you come off as weak.”

Again, don't mess with NorCal grrls. Photo: Gary Dev

Surprisingly, our very own Dr. Lucy is a rabid gamer girl and a dish, to boot. TGG, still looking for gamer models? Sure, she’s a Victorian gal at heart (died at The Del in 1904, in case you’re new here), but she shows up very nicely on camera, best with full-spectrum, infrared, HD cams. Full disclosure: sometimes she only appears as bright orbs … but, what a set of orbs!

Ever since D&D was gifted to RPGs in the 1970s, and then a later introduction to Mech Warriors she’s been a gaming, ghostie girl. Although she can’t always be seen, she can make a presence when she really wants to. Eventually, she moved on to Renaissance Faire; the men can be just as annoying, but her Old School ways fit in better there.

“I’m not into Resident Evil or the highly competitive shoot-em-up games like Halo or intensive online reality games like WOW,” Dr. Lucy confided to me by the hotel pool one night. “I do however still have my Super Nintendo and tons of ‘old school’ games like Mario Bros and every Zelda game ever made. That has to be my favorite platform game of all time. I have gotten a new platform like Wii just because the new Zelda game came out.” (Where does a Victorian ghost find such games, plus a Wii, my skeptical friends might wonder? Craigslist and BestBuy, of course.)”The games I play now are Zelda Skyward Sword, Heroes VI, and Civilization. The game I am saving up for now is Diablo III, and was just released this week!”

Whether it’s Faire, Zelda, Civilization or her long-ago, Victorian parlour games of Whist, Cribbage, Crambo or Hot Cockles, Lucy maintains boys will be boys.

“Heaven help anyone who ‘lets me win’ or gets all condescending!” she went on after yet another poolside-absinthe. “As for sexism, men ALWAYS think they know best and it does leak over into gaming. I find it entertaining when people who don’t know me try to categorize me. They usually get it wrong and reveal more about themselves in the process than they perceive about me. I know people need to stereotype others to a degree to feel comfortable so it makes me value those people who are capable of recognizing and appreciating people for who they are and those with the ability to recognize that all people evolve and are multifaceted.” Well, not all people, Lucy. Have you watched The Jersey Shore on your Kindle lately? Ick.

In the end, after all the womens’ studies, political hashing and academic posturing, Nerdcore Night is just damn good fun. Similar to Disneyland, Renaissance Faire, Comic-Con and FOX’s Animation Domination, it’s a few carefree hours to congregate with fellow goobs and let off some steampunk. Nerdcore Night is a girls’ night out and even though that seems a little dated in and of itself, it’s become a nice, universally nerdy haven. For, even though it started as an IRL meet-up for San Diego-close gamer chicks, it’s happily become an all-inclusive, guys and dolls, hipster doofus et al function: geeks, nerds, dweebs, gleeks, word nerds, orch dorks and so on. Hail dorks, well met! If you recall, I covered this pandemonium of geek culture previously, White & Nerdy checklist and all. Into which category do you fit?

Whatever you do call yourself, however or with whomever you identify, you’re welcome at The Ruby Room, any night of the week. Bring your hip game, though; Hillcrest ain’t Kansas and it ain’t Dr. Lucy’s weekly Hot Cockles … although, I imagine there’s a bit of that, not to mention some Squeak, Piggy, Squeak going on somewhere in the club.

By the by, for the rest of you cats whom tend to booze ‘n cavort sans cape and sword and just want a good Irish whiskey, Kentucky bourbon, I.P.A. or BOGO penny wells, The Ruby Room serves up a wide swath of divertissements: vintage burlesque –sadly, no Dita Von Teese, yet-, live bands, righteous DJs, art shows, charity functions, fashion soirées and themed karaoke nights. Whether you wield a French corset dagger or sport a slick set of Zildjian drumsticks in your back pocket, chances are excellent you’ll find a Ruby Room bash that suits you and your motley crew nicely. As the good folks at The Ruby Room humbly claim, “Not trying to be everything to everyone, but everything that is us.” Awww.

“Ladies don’t start fights, but we can finish ‘em.”  -Mlle. Marie Bonfamillle, The Aristocats

Destination: San Diego. Warp speed, Captain! Photo: Rabbot

 

Abyssinia, cats!

Hannah’s fave place to haunt online? JennyPop.net , jenniferdevore.blogspot.com and @JennyPop

 

The Proper Deets:

@theRubyRoomSD

The Ruby Room

1271 University Ave.

Hillcrest, San Diego, CA 92103

619.299.7372

How Betty & Veronica, Uncle Scrooge and a Lonely Octopus Save Christmas

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Category : Comics, Entertain Me, Featured, Geek Out, Holiday

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 previous 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!

 

Hannah Hart? We found these in an old Next Day Air igloo at Lindbergh Field

 

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.

Pauvre Onslow: as commemorative holiday decor

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 beachside 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.

 

Dr. Lucy, wait!

 

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 @JennyPopNet.

 

 

 

Abyssinia, babies!
@JennyPopNet
Hannah’s fave place to haunt online? https://www.amazon.com/author/jenniferdevore

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