New Year, New Me...Maybe...Probably Not, But Perhaps

I'd probably be the first one to tell you how stupid New Year's Resolutions are. They're self-indulgent and honestly, pretty likely to fail. I mean, seriously, how many times have you heard someone say, "You know, if it weren't for that New Year's Resolution, I'd never have turned out this skinny/rich/cultured/stylish/exquisite/happy/etc!" (If you know someone who has uttered this phrase, please leave me a comment! I will need to interview said person, because it's probably the only time in history that this has occurred.)

Okay, so, it's true. It doesn't usually work like that. But they are well-intentioned thoughts, and maybe sending out those favorable intentions into the universe does have its merits. And while I don't necessarily believe in their effectiveness, I none-the-less have my own New Years Resolutions:

1. Duh. Lose weight. Get healthy. Blah blah blah.
2. Read more. Watch TV less. -- This is a two-fer-one deal! There are just so many good books gathering dust on my bookshelves, begging to be read or re-read. I know someone who read one-hundred books in 2011. WOW! I initially thought I wanted to mimic that in 2012, but then I pulled my head out of the clouds, and thought that fifty would be a good jumping off point. So, that's the goal. Fifty books in 2012.
3. Bake and cook more. -- But, more importantly...
4. Figure out how to not let #3 affect #1. -- This is probably the hardest one to incorporate, but let me tell you why it's important. I LOVE to cook and bake. I LOVE to be in the kitchen. I truly believe that I'm happiest when I'm there, making delicious things for my family and friends. And I love blogging about food. I love food photography and I love the idea that more time spent in the kitchen means better cooking, shooting, and blogging. 
5. Photograph more. And care less about what I capture. -- To be perfectly honest, I needed a break from photography. And I'm glad that I had an opportunity to take that break, but I do miss it. And I want to start shooting again. I also feel like school instilled a desire in me for "the perfect shot" all of the time. I was never given the chance to shoot just for the hell of it, I was always shooting to capture something specific. But now, I just want to be able to shoot without critiquing myself as I go. To shoot just to shoot. 
6. Become more financial stable. -- i.e. bring home more bacon.

It may not make any difference to have these resolutions, but I figure it can't hurt to hope. Last time I checked, a little hope never hurt anything. 

What are your New Year's Resolutions?

How My Insides Feel

Photo credits: 
1. Aëla Labbé
2. Amamak Photography
3. Amber Ortolano

In the Day

Restart My Heart - such a delightful blog with lots of beautiful photography and inspiration. Go check it out.

Candied Orange Peels

After I got home from work this afternoon, I was pumped up to start some holiday baking. I'm off tomorrow, a day that I am officially claiming as entirely my own, to do with what I want, and I want to spend it entirely in the kitchen.

Tonight, as a pre-baking-marathon exercise (a warm-up, if you will) I decided to try my hand at candied orange peel. I mean, why not?

Oranges? Check.
Sugar? Check.
Water? Check.

Here's what I came up with:

Some thoughts on this recipe (which can be found here, at Sophistimom.com):

• I started this venture at approximately 11pm. Granted, not exactly an early start. However, it took until around approximately 3am for me to finish. With all of the tedious boiling and draining rubbish, this took entirely too much time for something that essentially ended up tasting a lot like an orange slice. No, not that kind. This kind:

• Five oranges seemed like a lot of peel at the beginning. But in the end, I probably only got about 2 cups worth of candied peel out of the batch.
• I initially intended to dip these babies in white or semi-sweet chocolate after finishing and packaging them up as holiday gifts, but I'll certainly pass now. I've already put far too much energy into, essentially, sugared fruit.
• One unexpected delight that came out of this recipe was the orange simple syrup that resulted from boiling the orange peels in sugar and water. I couldn't bear to throw it away, so I poured that sweet, syrupy goodness into a squeeze bottle and stuck it in the fridge. If you're looking for cozy, you can find it in a hot cup of tea with a shot of that delish, orange-infused simple syrup.
• I think that this recipe would be well suited for a very large batch of "left-overs" from oranges over time. A great way to utilize something you'd otherwise just throw away. Perhaps, in the future, I'll save up my orange peels (you can just throw those puppies in the freezer until you're ready to use them) and try again. Or rather, to be honest...most likely not.

All-in-all, I love the idea. I certainly think an application of these peels in some way is the way to go (i.e. the dipping in chocolate or dicing them for "chocolate pops") because if I had to do it all over again just for the peels, I'd have much rather headed to the gas station to grab two-for-a-dollar bags of those wretchedly delicious orange-like candies.

Occupy This

At this point, I think that it's probably safe to say that most Americans are familiar with the "Occupy Wall Street" movement that's been going on. What I think is a little more difficult to determine is exactly how to define the "Occupy" movement's motives or ultimate goals (and believe me, I've read their "list of demands").

 

I think that it's also safe for me to say that I don't know nearly enough about this protest. I don't completely understand the whole 99% business, or who exactly is at fault in their eyes (the government? big business? banks? war? religion?). And that is most certainly a lacking on my part to do proper research. 

I basically say all of this to preface the fact that I want to talk about a very specific observation made that I feel is entirely indicative of a much larger-scale problem. A problem that is affecting this very public, very political outcry and is almost solely the reason for its ultimate failure. 

Extremism. Extremism is why this movement will fail. I believe that extremism is why most political disputes fail, on either side.  It's a problem of "bad eggs," so to speak. About one person ruining it for all of the others. For example, Christianity, as a whole, is good. The basic teachings, the beliefs, the commands. But then extremism comes along with a couple of self-professing Christians who persecute, judge, and condemn others, and it's ruined. Christianity gets a bad rap because of a few "bad eggs." Now, when someone wants to attack Christianity, they cite those few bad eggs and it kills an otherwise quality rebuttal.

This is the same issue plaguing "Occupy Wall Street." Their quality argument is that the majority of them aren't mooches. They don't feel entitled. They aren't looking for a hand-out. They are simply tired of busting their asses at menial jobs (if they are lucky enough to have one) for menial pay, only to continue to accrue more debt and live more fearfully; fearful over the well-being of their families, over the loss of their homes, over their bank accounts. They are tired of feeling like, even after all of their hard work, if it's still barely enough to stay afloat, instead of their government stepping into to give them a boost, they are funneling money to the already wealthy.

Here is where the problem lies: the few who are mooches. The few who do feel entitled. The few who are looking for a hand-out. The few who expect a hand-out. The few who don't work hard, have no intentions of working hard, and who gladly, without a drop of remorse, nor gratitude, lean on the system. Take advantage. Expect others to pick up their slack. Expect to be rewarded simply because they have a little and you have a lot, and it's only fair if you share. Ironically enough, they create the flaw in their own argument.

The 1%ers don't feel any obligation to "share" with these few. And who would? If person "X" works hard their entire life (or even doesn't work hard, say their family worked hard and it's been inherited) to accrue a reasonable/unreasonable amount of wealth, why would person "X" feel obligated to give it to person "Y," someone who doesn't work hard, wouldn't appreciate it, and is indeed repulsed by the very notion that you don't just automatically know that it should be given them. There truly and genuinely are people out there who think like this. Who do have this inflated sense of entitlement. Who use and abuse and take advantage of any amount of generosity that there is in the world. And they do so ungratefully and shamelessly. They kill everyone's sense of altruism and good-will-among-men rhetoric. They are the "bad eggs" that ruin it for everyone. 

This is the basic principle for why welfare recipients in certain states are being drug tested now. The majority are most likely struggling small families who need that money to survive, and it's barely enough to do that. Families that most likely work hard for a measly paycheck. But there is also a minority that abuses that system. That receives welfare and blows it on drugs or alcohol. That chooses to feed their habit rather than their children. And they instantly ruin it for everyone else. Make it more difficult for the people who really need it, to get it.

And unfortunately, this is why "Occupy Wall Street" will fail, as well. It's impossible not to include the moochers in with the 99%, and they are the first citation for opposing arguments. And how can you defeat those citations? When alas, they are but sadly, sadly true.

Always Reaching

Someone told me the other day that I reminded them of Twiggy. I think that that was one of the nicest compliments I've ever received (incidentally, the nicest compliment was when an elderly gentleman approached me at Publix and whispered to me, "If my old lady looked as good as you, I'd keep her locked up at home.").

Twiggy is stunning, even today. But Twiggy circa 1960's is a goddess.

 Mia Farrow circa 1960's is exquisite, as well. 

There is something about big eyes and short hair that is breathtaking. I aspire to be even a quarter as beautiful as these women.

How Blessed Am I?!

I think it's about time that I tell you a little bit about the first man that I ever loved. A man whose kindness and caring are insurmountable. A man who has never failed to impress or amaze.

His name is Dad.

This was my dad before he was my dad. Could he have ever guessed at this point in his life just how much a little girl would eventually love and adore him?

It was love at first sight. Regardless of the fact that I was just being born and can't quite recall precisely how I felt at the time, I can tell you that 100%, without a doubt, I loved my father and he loved me. Unconditionally.

The above picture is my absolute favorite. It's so 70's and techie and adorable. He and I have had a few discussions about this before, but I still couldn't even begin to tell you what purpose those instruments serve. Something to do with physics or radiation or something...maybe? My father works for a nuclear plant, and since you can't exactly pop in for a visit, I feel like I've always had an extremely skewed vision of what he does there. In my head, it's somewhere between Homer's job at the Springfield nuclear plant on the Simpsons, and some sort of top-secret, highly-dangerous laboratory that is forever teetering on the edge of destroying us all.

This is what my dad's office looks like in my head.

While that picture of him is definitely one of my favorites, this photograph is the epitome of my father:

If I had to give you a singular image of how I view my dad, this would be the one. This photograph just screams so much of him to me. It tells so much. It reminds me of every little part of him. From the blue "Bingo" grill plate on the wall--which reminds me of his past, and how much of a bad-ass he was growing up, all the way down to the poor, dismantled Teddy Ruxpin--which reminds me of where I get my twisted sense of humor. Not to mention the obvious, which is that my father can build or fix ANYTHING. He has a tool for every need. He is incredible.

I write all of this because I am constantly reminded of how blessed and lucky I am. Reminded of how much this man means to me and just how much he loves me. This past Sunday, my dad drove up to Atlanta to take care of some things in my condo for me. It was his only day off.

Among some of the things that he installed/repaired/fixed/adjusted were: starting the pilot light on my fireplace, fixing my backdoor so that it actually closes now, reversing the hot/cold on my shower so that the correct temperature is now associated with the correct handle position, purchasing and installing two beautiful light fixtures (and there would have been a third if he had an appropriate ladder), installing a towel-bar in my half-bathroom, and installing a TP holder in my bathroom. 

Just look at that handy work! Did I mention that my father is amazing? Incredible? It's honestly the truth. And I don't mean to keep bragging, it's just that he's the greatest and he's mine.

When he does things like this, coming up to fix and install all of the stuff that I'm too stupid to figure out, it always reminds me of an episode of Boy Meets World. Just watch the first minute-and-a-half of this video, because it captures, in a nutshell, just how I feel about my daddy.

"You work all day, then you come and work some more. And then you do my work. You're hogging all the work!"

 

"It's like he's Superman. Superman's my dad."

You're My Happy Thought

I am probably the easiest person in the world to keep entertained. Me + my best friend/roommate (or, my broomie, if you prefer) + an intoxicant + PhotoBooth = GREATNESS.

 I think that some of the most fun experiences in my life have revolved around hangin' out, maxin', relax' all cool with a few good people. And it makes me so grateful; both for having such spectacular friends and family that they are all I need, as well as the fact that I don't have to spend so much time/money/effort to have a good time (because I have very little of all three). 

 

Immature? Yes. Stupid? Yes. Ridiculous? Yes. I have no defense. All I know is that I still can't stop laughing at these.

Side note: These were spurred by the fact that Julianna and I have taken so few photographs of the two of us together in the past few years. And who could argue that these aren't a billion times better than "normal" friend photos?

Quit Being a Debbie

I never really wanted to use this blog space to rant or vent or be a total Negative Nancy, but you know what? Fuck that. It's my blog and I'll do what I want. 

I know that everyone has "off" days, but I feel like I knew it was going to be weird from the moment I woke up this morning. It was dreary and frigid out, and I could barely bring myself to understand that my alarm was not mistaken and that it was indeed 9am despite the dark, cold, gray sky. A sky that taunted, "Hey. Hey you. Yeah. You, with the bed head and sleep-crusted eyes. Why don't you stay in that warm, delightful bed of yours? What's the harm?" But I defied that cold, gray sky and dragged myself out of the comforts of my bed and into the shower. I remembered a friend of mine talking about the power of positive thought and energy recently and decided to try it out. I was the embodiment of good juju while I lathered, rinsed and repeated. "Today is going to be a good day. I'm going to get so much accomplished. Good things are coming my way. I am going to be happy today. I am beautiful and talented and a good person. Today is going to be a good day."

I could tell though, that even as I said those things to myself, there was something disagreeing in the pit of my stomach. A gut instinct that today was going to be off no matter how many positive vibes I sent into the universe. 

I got dressed and headed off to work and actually had a great day helping out Michelle. Her sweet little dog, Moxie, got sick though. Poor wittle thing!

She ralfed like six times. I guess she was having an "off day," too.

Anywho, to hurry up and get to the point already, today I was "let go" from the restaurant that I was working. I'd love to list out every reason why this is totally bogus, unwarranted, and completely unprofessional, but I won't. Because I have class and I am a lady. 

Honestly though, I think I might be most pissed off that I didn't get to quit. That they beat me to it! Because I was really, really looking forward to the day when I could go out like this.

Just In Case You Were Wondering...

Your Saturday Dose of Art

So much has been going on in my life lately that I've made myself sick. Yuck. Stress really can and does manifest itself in physical symptoms, my friends, so stay relaxed and stay healthy. Everything is going to be okay. The world has never ended over anyone else's decisions or mistakes, and it won't end over yours either. Just keep that in mind. And I'll try to remind myself of that in the future, as well. Because in the midst of decision making, it never feels that easy. I tend to regard all decisions with even the slightest degree of importance as life-altering events that can and will change the course of history for all humans, across all nations, for the rest of eternity. 

Thus, the head cold.

So, being that I'm young and idealistic (and potentially naive and unrealistic), I've changed jobs already. Not anything super drastic, like going into mechanical engineering or anything like that, but without going into any of the finer details, I quit my job at the art gallery that I was working for and am now working as a studio assistant for an artist. Although I desperately wanted to do both, I had to choose. And I chose Michelle. The whimsical, idealistic, head-in-the-clouds girl won out, and I feel pretty good about it. And thus, on the eve of such a change, I figured I'd post about Michelle Armas' paintings. She is after all my new employer (*cough* brownie points *cough*), an artist, and more than an acceptable choice for this weeks' Saturday dose of art.
 

Michelle Armas - The Big Salad - 48x48"

 

Michelle Armas - Rosalia - 30x40"

Michelle Armas is kind of a big deal. Her paintings sell all over the world and in addition to her talent, she is hilarious. Before I ever even met Michelle, I read her blog. I must admit, when she raved about a chunky, over-sized sweater on the basis of it's appeal as a "fab fart blocker" in one blog post, I thought we might be soul mates. I also laughed so hard I almost peed a little. 

Michelle Armas - White - 12x18"

I've only ever seen Michelle's more abstract color fields, like "The Big Salad" above (a new work and my fave because it really does look like a big salad to me), but I personally am in love with these much more intricate oil paintings that she's done. They remind me of brain synapses or something. A visual representation of an artist's neurological functions. WOAH.

I'd love to know what they're really about, and I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to pick her brain about them in the future. I'll keep you posted on what I find out. 

So, all in all, I will just have to wait out and see if I made the best decision possible. But if not, I'll just listen to Rilo Kiley's "Salute My Shorts" and be reminded that, "Everyone fucks up. It's going to be okay."

Your Saturday Dose of Art

You know, I often regard the notion that "it's all been done before" as being fairly accurate, especially concerning art. Nothing is new, just old, recycled, tired ideas. And while, for the most part I do believe this, sometimes an artist comes along and does something that makes me think, "Wow! I don't think that's ever been done before." And it could be the simplest thing, but it gives me hope. My cynicism is silenced, if even for just a moment, and it makes me happy.

I follow Juxtapoz Magazine pretty religiously because they are most likely to give me that warm and fuzzy feeling that it is possible to do something truly original. And while I have known and loved Wim Delvoye for a long time, they posted an article about some of his newest work today and I am in awe all over again.

Wim Delvoye is a conceptual artist from Belgium and he has an expansive portfolio that includes photography, mixed media, sculpture, and all kinds of other craziness that I don't even know how to classify (how exactly does one categorize tattooed pig skins or vacuum-sealed, mechanically-created poo?). You should check out his interactive website which is sort of a sim city that revolves exclusively around the artist and his work. It's pretty rad.

Delvoye's series of "SexRays" are my absolute favorite. A little graphic? Potentially inappropriate? Sexually explicit? Yes, yes, and yes! If those three things don't sound like your cup of tea, you may want to avert your tender eyes:

They are fascinating, no? I'm so glad that an artist out there is willing to increase someone's exposure to radiation for the sake of art! 

The series that Juxtapoz wrote about is called "Pneu," which is French for "tire." And guess what?! They are, indeed, tires. Beautiful, intricately carved tires:

I don't know about you, but I know that I've never seen anyone carve a tire before. So unique and yet so simple (conceptually, not execution wise, obviously). Don't it just make ya feel good?

Time to MTFU

Sometimes I need to be reminded that I am, in fact, an adult. I come from a family where, "Yes, ma'am" and "Yes, sir" are always the appropriate response, and I feel like I am carrying that into my adult life; a time when I finally get to exert my own thoughts, opinions, wants, interests, and demands. A time when I finally get to use "no" if I so choose. 

Or...at least, "No, ma'am."

Your Saturday Dose of Art

I have a whole folder of websites for artists/artworks that I admire, so it's always so hard to know what to share to where to begin. How are we feeling about a little Andreas Englund this evening? On the heels of DragonCon, I feel like this is befitting:

Sitting - Andreas Englund

This is his series, "Portraits of an Elderly Superhero" and I think I'm in love. The nerd and the artist inside of me become simultaneously warm and fuzzy when I look at these. I think that I am commonly drawn to art that I could never, ever, ever have the talent/capacity to do, and that could be why Englund's work is so stunning to me. It's one thing to create a realistic painting from a photograph or a real-life subject, but to create a realistic painting based on a fantasy is beyond talented. Look at the lighting. How perfectly he captures all of the detail in the face and hands. That right knee bone. MIND = BLOWN.

Artist in Progress Producing "Hemlich" - Andreas Englund 

This is a photograph of Englund in the process of painting, just so that you can get an idea of the scale of these babies. Can you even imagine how amazing they must be in person?

I tried really hard to pick out a favorite in the series, but I just can't, so I'm just going to go into overkill mode and give you top three:

 Fight - Andreas Englund

Bad Clementine - Andreas Englund

Thriller - Andreas Englund

Too funny, right? Witty and technically beautiful and nerdy and delightful. I approve, Andreas Englund, I approve.

You Know What Else is Hard to Do, Neil Sedaka? Growing Up.

I'm feeling like a really real grown-up this week. Getting hit hard with some life lessons about money and responsibility and junk. I may not like it, but I guess it had to happen sometime. I got hired on for another part-time job at a restaurant that is opening up in Midtown Atlanta called Takorea. I'm actually really excited about it! I couldn't possibly tell you why, but I've always wanted to be a server. It just seems like such a blasty blast, and a great way to meet people. Not to mention that I'm great at being overly nice to people, even when they are being assholes to me. Not that I'm expecting to serve assholes, I'm just saying, I think it'll be a beneficial attribute.

In other news, the juice fast just isn't going to work. I couldn't even go one day! Pretty pathetic attempt, I know but, oh well. I decided that I'm going to do my own version that really isn't a fast at all, but more of just a light diet. I've been restricting myself to juice, raw fruits and veggies and grilled chicken. I honestly don't really care if it's a fast or not, because I feel good about it. It feels like something I can actually continue with, as opposed to only drinking juice, which I pretty quickly realized I couldn't/didn't want to do.

I mean, honestly, who could drink sludge-green juice ALL DAY for TEN DAYS? Not that it necessarily tastes bad, but I just can't do it. And I applaud anyone who can. Ye are irrefutably a stronger willed being than I. This particular concoction was green apple, celery and romaine. Why? I don't know. I was just trying to stick to the whole "like colors" theory which, so far, has remained a fairly reliable supposition; however, I have discovered through this process that I hate celery and tomato juice. They are terribly effective at ruining the other juices. Pity.

And lastly, I hesitate to even add this, but I bought something else today that I can't afford. Kind of an impulse buy, but also another fabulous piece to add to my "who I want to be" wardrobe. It was just too beautiful, and you can't fault me for loving beautiful things, can you (well, if you can, you shouldn't)? This darling, is mine:

I just had to have it. It fit like a glove and it's so fun. Dress it up, dress it down; it has so many possibilities! So, here's to hoping this jacket looks just a good in the dark, after I can't afford to pay my electric bill next month! Cheers!

Ju-ess

I can't even begin to tell you how many nights I have stayed up watching Jack LaLanne entrance me with the wonder, the magic, the power of juice. Oh, how many blissful evenings I have fallen asleep to that infomercial's promise of a whisper quiet motor, and minimal pulp, easy clean-up, and twice as much juice as the "other guys." Dreams of celery and carrots and kale being pulverized into delicious beverages of joy.

So, this past weekend, while I was home visiting with my family and out shopping with my mother, we came across a Jack LaLanne Power Juicer Express. After a few, "But, Mooommm! I NEED IT!"s (this said in exactly the same way that Cartman does to his mother in South Park. Also, I may or may not use the word "need" in a fast and loose manner), this beauty found a new home on my kitchen counter:

I've been juicing for the past three days now. Nothing serious, just testin' her out. I love the idea of throwing whatever I've got lying around the fridge in there to see what comes out.

Let's see...got some tomatoes. And some romaine hearts and some peaches. Okay! Toss in some peas. Maybe a little potato. What the hell?

I think I may have twarted my random experimental phase this afternoon though when I pitched in some romaine hearts, cantaloupe and celery. I'm not entirely sure why that particular concoction was so foul, but it was not good. Not good at all. The more I looked at the brown goop I was drinking, the more ill I became and had to force down the last few drops. Also, carrots, celery, tomato and romaine - or what I like to call, Salad in a Cup - is wretched. I think that perhaps juicing is most effective (at least taste-wise) when keeping like colors together. Kinda like laundry. 

An old friend of mine has been juicing for a while now and has had some real ups and downs with it. I can't say that she necessarily inspired my want of a juicer (as Jack LaLanne takes full, unadulterated credit for that), but she did inspire me to want to try a juice fast. You can read all about her juice journey on her blog. It's actually pretty interesting and she talks a lot about her struggles with food addiction and closet-eating, two topics that hit pretty close to home.

I found this website with a twenty-one day juice fast that I would really like to try, so that's on the docket for the upcoming week. So, cheers to good juice and good health.

DragonCon: Home of Multiple Dorkgasms

I really could kick myself for having such a wretched memory. Perhaps if I had a better one, I would have remembered that DragonCon is this weekend in Atlanta. Sad face.

For those of you who don't know, DragonCon is an annual sci-fi/comic book/video game/all-things-dweeby gathering that occurs over Labor Day weekend. And it's...hmm...let me figure out how to put this. SPEC-FUCKING-TACULAR.

Let me begin by saying that, despite being a huge nerd, I have never been to this convention. Unfortunately, this time is no different. As I stated before, I forgot about it, thus leading to the sad face. Remember? Thought I'd remind you in case your memory is as poor as mine.

Anyway, luckily for me, there was a parade this morning for anyone who dressed in a particularly stunning costume. And for anyone without tickets to watch from the sidewalk in awe and kick rocks on the way back to the car (i.e. me). I have no qualms about saying that there were tons of people/characters in the parade that I didn't recognize, but that were completely awesome. Like this guy for example:

I don't know who/what he is, but I love him! Clearly a ton of time, thought, effort, patience went into this costume, and I can appreciate the dedication. So, thank you, good sir of whom I do not recognize. Thank you.

Oh, yes. A LEGIT Mach 5 Racer from Speed Racer:

And Bender from Futurama:

And of course, who ya gonna call?:

Maybe this guy? Who did an outstanding job of appearing as crazy/genius as Rick Moranis did in the original Ghostbusters (or perhaps genuinely crazy/genius, who knows?):

 

I was getting positively dizzy from all of the excitement! Thank goodness all of the terrifying terrorists from Netherworld showed up to terrify me back into a terrifying reality:

 

Believe it or not, that last picture was actually taken of this demon-man smiling. The little boy standing next to me was horrified by these guys, and for some reason, this ogre felt that smiling and waving at the child was the best solution to quell his fear. I'm not sure if a fang-revealing smile was really going to do much to soften your black, horned, bloody facade, but you get a solid "E" for effort. 

I actually went to Netherworld for Halloween two years ago and nearly had a heart-a-stroke. Never again.

Of course, what would a sci-fi convention be without a sea of Storm Troopers? I wouldn't know, and I'm sure no one else does either, because I doubt Star Wars nerds have e're been absent from any convention, anywhere, ever. But here's what this years' sea of Troopers looked like:

While all of these people/characters/costumes were honest-to-God amazing, I think that this was my favorite costume of all (although I may be biased because I'm a little obsessed with this game):

 

Hey there, Big Daddy. Come to Mama! Spot on costume! Big, huge, ridiculous, toe-curling dorkgasm over this! I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE!

So rad. So nerdy. So entertaining. Whew. I need a cigarette.