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Comic-Con 2007


Heroes was for the win.

Perhaps it was Parker cooing over how handsome he finds Mohinder. Or maybe Peter Petrelli’s new haircut.

It could have been Mr. Bennet’s sexy T-shirt—an impromptu
Tim Sale-original
. I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know.

All I know is, between Clive Owen experiencing fanboy love, and Warner Bros hiring male strippers to dress as Spartans soldiers at their 300 DVD release party (they were strippers I tells youse!), this year’s Con was the best I’ve had since 2002. And I think I have the [boatload of] pictures to prove it.

Do you like you some Petrelli?











Ando is my hero. ♥






*changes panties*










During the panel Greg Grunberg turned to Sendhil (Mohinder) and said he was so gorgeous. All dreamy eyed. The fans lost their minds. At which point Sendhil grabbed Greg and bent him backwards over his chair for some very realistic looking tonguing.

It was too sudden and I was howling too hard to take pictures, I am so sorry.

Later, Greg asked him to please say “My father’s research” into the mic. Which Sendhill did. Twice. You could heard Greg moaning. I swear it. *twirls panties*











Tim Kring, the show’s creator, sporting a very 70s porntache.



She’s ”Maya”, the new Hero for the fall season.















Jack Coleman
(sexxx muuuch?) explained that my secret lover
Tim Sale
made that T-shirt for him while in the waiting room waiting room for the panel to begin. I nearly passed out.

When asked “What was your favorite/most memorable moment in the series so far?” Coleman replied: “When Mr. Bennet went from being a guest star to being a cast regular.” ♥ This actor has been in television since the early eighties and had never had a starring/regular role until Heroes. *cuddles gropes him*
















That cast-signed T-shirt, when someone in the audience said his wife loves Parker, came off (he had another one under it). Greg told the guy to come up, he had something for the man’s wife as well. (laugh laugh)

He and tossed it to the guy. The audience went wild. The guy’s wife came up herself (ya, hello?) to the corner of the stage to hand him the gift and collect her booty.

They announce before the panels that fans are not allowed to give the stars gifts, but who gives a shit.

So, are you a Heroes fan?






The Woobie Award of the Con goes to Joss Whedon, who gave the best panel of the Con.




♥ ♥ ♥ ♥


He got a standing ovation when he came on, for about a minute. When it died down, people were still screaming. So we gave him another standing O.

A little kid, eight or nine years old, got up to the mic and told Joss that his dad had sat him down and showed him this show called Firefly. The kid said he was wary because his father isn’t known—in his opinion—to have to best of tastes. He said he watched for five minutes and was hooked. “So my question is,” he said to Joss. “What was going through your mind when you came up with the idea for Firefly? Were you watching Star Wars and thinking, ‘Wouldn’t it be cool if Clint Eastwood was in this?’” The kid brought the house down.

Then this girl got up and said she was from Israel, and that they loved him over there and extended a warm hug to him on behalf of all his fans there. Then she asked whether the feminist themes in his shows were intentional or just by accident. And that she did have a gripe with him, as something on his shows drove her crazy [and for the life of me I can’t remember what it was, but it was bizarre and hilarious].

After the laughter died down, Joss cautiously told her that he was sorry he had driven her crazy, so that she believed she was from another country, where people hugged and were loving to one another, and that he was a feminist. [Which he staunchly informed the audience that let there be no mistake, he was. Dyed-in-the-wool, unapologetic, old school, feminist.]

Then at the end, after the exit applause, he took a moment on the mic to say, voice cracking, that he was so happy, because after two years of not giving us anything new, “I thought you had forgotten me.” The audience moaned almost with pain.

*shakes him* He needs to shake his funk if he is in one, because everything genre-television is often imitating but never duplicating his pioneering shows, and we’re jonesing for the real thing!


Fables

Why aren’t you reading?

The book’s creators, with the writer, Bill Willingham, on the left.



James Jean, the artist who paints those astonishing covers.



These crazy kids came dressed as the characters. So from left to right:
Prince Charming
,
Bigby
,
Boy Blue
, and
Ambrose
. And Willingham in the background.



This girl was Bigby. It seriously made me fear for when she grows up. *hides the piggies*


This guy loved Boy Blue’s jacket so much he went out and got one custom made. Now that’s perving.


That’s him with Mark Buckingham, the artist who created Boy Blue’s look.


The Fables panel felt magical, and it was standing room only. Willingham said, for those of you who read the book, that March 2008, the character of Peter Pan goes into the public domain, and March 2008, Peter Pan was going to be a Fable. And not in a happy, shiny way, either, since Willingham says he finds Peter’s child-stealing ways rather disturbing. *rubs hands*

The Stargates panels.

They were all crazy. I was sure they and their fans were drunk, but my sister assured me they’re always like this.














Teal'c called Daniel Jackson at home, and Daniel Jackson’s wife hung up on him. And then when he called back she told him Daniel was actually in the bathroom. Much howling from the fans.






Kaylee joined the cast of Stargate! Whee!








Afterward, there was a fan gathering, with cutie pies frolicking in soldier’s uniforms. *beams*






This one smiled directly into my camera every time I pointed it at him. It was a miracle I could shoot straight. *eyedart*




That’s his boyfriend friend on the right. *cough* AND ON HIS LEFT is none other than Pierre Bernard from Late Night with Conan O’Brien, one of the funniest nerds alive and a serious Stargate fan.

Tom Wisdom showed up for the 300 DVD panel.




He played Astinos in the movie. I promised myself if I ever met him I’d have something to say to him, about his apparent lack of understanding of the care and feeding of fangirls. But more on that later. *wink*


The Mist panel

Marcia Gay Harden, looking fabulous.



Laurie Holden



Thomas Jane



The director Frank Darabont. The movie looked good and creepy, like the short story. I hope it holds up.



The Shoot ‘Em Up panel.

I stood in front of that stage and lost all feeling in my legs. Tommy’s Clive’s *cries* Tommy’s eyes are very, very green. *keeeels over*






*rolls tongue back in*




So why is Clive Owen laughing?


Because some fanboy got up to the mic and announced that he had seen the movie at the screening the night before. And with slow, deep appreciation, as only a true fan can feel, he informed Clive that the manner in which Clive had bitten and chewed on that carrot “in that one scene, was awesome. You. owned. that carrot.” And he went on to say just how much Clive owned that carrot. I nearly died laughing. It’s called RPS, sweetie.



The movie’s director, Michael Davis. That movie looked seriously cracked out. It’s either going to be…crack or just… cracked out.

Kate Beckinsale for the Whiteout panel.







That’s Joel Silver with her, arguably one of the top three producers in Hollywood in terms of clout. He has so much clout, that in fact when Kate was running very late for the panel, “stuck behind a train”, he walked off the stage, two minutes later walked back on stage with her. I guess he went and yelled at the train. I’m sure his assistant would commiserate.



This is Charles de Lauzirika. Get to know him, because he’s the future of DVDs. He’s a gifted DVD producer who goes the extra mile, and then some, to give fans just about everything we dream of in DVD extras.

It took me a moment to recognize him after his name was called because this guy used to be twice as heavy and wore thick-rimmed nerd glasses. Now look at him. It’s enough to make Guillermo del Toro suspicious about where his loyalties lie: in his obsessions or his looks. I think he has my card somewhere…

He was part of the Blade Runner Final Cut DVD panel.

And I would like to take this opportunity to thank Ridley Scott for coming to the Con and showing other big-name Hollywood directors that they have nothing to fear from us fans. And I’m looking at you, Spielberg. No Indiana Jones IV panel? For shame. Are you afraid we’re going to demand answers of you DreamWorks executives dare not? Well, you should be.


Ray Bradbury



Ray Harryhausen



Their annual panel together. Bradbury’s wheelchair lift got stuck lifting him up to the stage, and from where I was standing in front of the stage you could hear him softly calling, “Send for the wine!” Apparently the same thing had happened at a White House visit and they had imbibed him while he waited to get unstuck.


The Bionic Woman panel



The show’s producers.






Michelle Ryan (playing Jamie Sommers)



Katie Sackoff plays the first bionic woman. Yayness.



Mark fucking Sheppard

Sex on two legs. (Remember him from Battlestar? He was that shady lawyer who was doing Apollo who rocked the house in last season’s last three episodes).


Intermission
Best Overheard Conversations:
A.
Lined up for the Bionic Woman panel. Guy comes over to the security staff. “Hey, is this the line for Masquerade?”
“Uh, no. It’s 10 o’clock in the morning.”
(Masquerade is for 8.30pm that evening.)
“But can we line up right now? You know, could we just… start the line like right now?”
“No. Dude.

B. A few minutes later. Another guy comes up to same security guy. This guy looked tense.
“Where’s the line for Bionic Woman??”
“This is it.”
“Where’s it end?”
“It goes all the way around.” The security guard points to the end of the line, which is wrapped all the way around the entire floor and…ends right where the security guard is standing.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“Duuude. It’s gonna be on TV.”

No words, people. No words.



Making kissy faces at Jensen Ackles




The security guy who got me right in front of Jensen was so big and buff and Scottish (he was even wearing a black kilt!), that I debated who to take a picture of. But knowing people like Stewie would kill me if I didn’t make the right choice helped me focus.

Me: *whispering, amidst the crush of fans getting autographs* Jensen. Jensen. Jensen!
He looked up.
“Give us a smile.”
He made an effort.


“Aww, you can do better than that.”

After which he gave me a deceptively calm What-the-fuck-did-say-about-my-smile? look. I snapped the shots and booked it the hell outta there. omg






Comic Con staff
This year, hottie was in.










This one was so obedient I wanted to weep.
*cries a little*








I asked him: Is the entrance to 6A down that way?
He said: Yes. And by “yes,” I mean I don’t know.

lol! (It was a rough, packed, sold-out Con. You needed your sense of humor as much as you needed food.)





This kid was from New Zealand, and he had me at hello. Don’t let the innocent smile fool you, the boy had the smoothness and manner of Bond. When he asked me to take his picture, I at first didn’t oblige. Then I heard him talking to the woman buying pretzels after me. “Hey, gorgeous,” he purred matter-of-factly to her. You had to hear his velvet voice to believe it. “I’d like a pretzel, please,” the woman said. “I know you would,” he replied, without missing a beat. “But which kind?” Except he made it sound like he wanted to know what position she’d like him in bed. I took his picture after that.



And then…

The Warner Bros OMG, WFT Party.



Damn, that’s right. I forgot to take the life-sized Spartan-hero action figures home.

I had no plans or intentions to attend this party. Warners had put on a screening of 300 at the baseball stadium adjoining the Omin Hotel where I was staying and what a fiasco that turned out to be. One hour after it was supposed to begin, it still hadn’t. I left and went back to the hotel, tired and hungry, to have dinner. Then I spotted the older gentleman who’d played Mr. Tyrell of the Tyrell Corporation in Blade Runner. He had previously mentioned at the stadium that he invited fans to stop by the booths and say hi to him and talk about anything, from The Shinning to Paths of Glory.

Not wanting to miss the opportunity, I went over and offered to buy him a drink if he was alone. He said he didn’t drink but would love to sit with me while I had my dinner. He was old school charm personified. Two minutes into the conversation he had discovered that yes, I’d gone to the Blade Runner panel, yes, I’d gone to the stadium, no, I hadn’t gone to the studio DVD release party.

“My dear, girl!” he cried. “There are half-naked young men in there!” He leaned in, eyes twinkling. “Would you like to go?”

I said “Certainly!”, and off we went. The security guard by the entrance to the party could barely contain himself when I walked in on the arm of this debonair old man. Mr. Tyrell deposited me at the party, took a bow, and asked me to enjoy myself. And then he left! I immediately called up my sister from the Eisner Awards and whipped out my pocket digital camera.

There was delicious food, free alcohol, and Xerxes’s throne for pole dancing, and bellydancers galore…









But more than that, there was Spartan heaven.







This woman was losing her shit and not giving a fuck. She had a good time. She and most of the other women at the party got completely plastered and followed the Spartans around like it was Halloween and Spartan was the new chocolate. I crooked my finger at the one on the left there and when and when he came over I asked, “Are we allowed to touch?” I asked it innocently, giving him a chance to run away. Instead he grabbed my wrist and plastered my hand on his six pack and started rubbing. I started laughing, wondering why he thought he might be safe. “Are we allowed to put dollar bills in your panties?” I asked him. Then he laughed in that way that only male strippers do. He was so busted.

And…*cut for ratings*

And then Tom Wisdom came along.

There was a woman in a mini skirt who had followed him about all day and night long. I saw them at our hotel and thought she was his girlfriend and wondered why on earth he would have brought her on what was essentially a junket. Then I realized it was his handler. Publicist, most likely. So I went over to him and touched his arm (he’s huuuuuge, with an ass in jeans you have to see to believe) and congratulated him on 300. He thanked me and asked me my name. I told him, and said that wasn’t the point, and leaned in close. He leaned down. I told him I had seen him in his British show, Mile High and he delightedly went, “Really!!” and I shook my head to make him stop talking and told him, “Do yourself a favor.” Which got his attention. “Get your people to get your picture on the internet. Photos, websites, anything. There are people who are interested, and there is hardly a single image of you out there. No one can find anything about you.”

His party veneer fell. The smile fell off his face and his expression turned completely serious and business-like. He said, ”Really?”, but in that fierce, what the fuck? whisper.

I gave him a nod and a grimace and went, “Uh huh.”

And the odd thing is, I'm actually quite introverted around strangers in real life. *shifty eyes*

His handler showed up and began peering, I left to rejoin my sister. Later on that night I saw them at the hotel lobby and they appeared to be having an argument. We ain’t here to hurt nobody, as they say, but Jesus, some of these so-called publicists who don’t know left from right have drifted enough careers into the sunset to make you wonder why anyone bothers with them anymore.



And last but not the least, the fan photos.


































The Hot Fuzz promo girls.


Who almost caused a fanboy tsunami. No, wait, they did cause a fanboy tsunami, about two seconds after they walked in.







Stargate officers.







































Caveman Robot! And he remembered me! *giggles* *squishes*










He assured me he wasn’t the real Dr. Rodney McKay. I’m…still not sure.












My sister was convinced this water would taste… Atlantean. It didn’t.

















One seriously sexy Han Solo. He was at the Indiana Jones fan thingy, getting dirty looks.









Me: Excuse me, do you mind if I take a picture of you in your fireman costume? It’s gorgeous, and so authentic-looking.
The sexy fire marshall just laughed. XD



Galactica officers.



Husband & wife.






I have no idea.






























Roy Batty
and
Pris
from Blade Runner.
































































These Torchwood girls were some cheeky buggers.



See what I mean?





Monkey-powered Artoo. No, really.









































































*prrr*






Everybody needs Masquerade tickets. Everybody.


























And the must-have swag of the Con award goes to Warner Bros for that giant bag of theirs.



EVERYBODY HAD TO HAVE ONE. They had to have a line.


At the start of the Con it looked as though there might not be enough to go around, and people started looking at it hungrily, like zombies after brains, and you had to clutch yours a bit tightly and not linger about in the area.




By the end of the Con it was apparently also the must-have evening wear. lol.







The infamous ‘Hall H’. Requiring hours of waiting in line to guarantee entry.


And speaking of Hall H…


…I’d like to close with this guy. He saved the day. After watching the WireImage photogs get exclusive run of the front of the stage, where you could actually get a shot of the panelists’ faces, I went over and begged him to please do something for the rest of us with press passes relegated to the worthless corner “press pen.” He saw the bullshitness of the situation and eventually began letting us to go in twos round to the front as well. He was one of the Comic-Con staff, but he was also a fan, as he took up the mic and asked a question of Clive Owen as well. Which is why fans will one day rule the world.
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