Hump Day Nerdgasm: Prepare to be underwhelmed

I accidentally took a hiatus from this self-imposed weekly feature that never talks about anything in particular. The whole of August was BEREFT of nerdgasming . . . but full of Wilkie Collins fangirling, thanks to Alice's Moonstone readalong. So it pretty well balanced out, I figure.

The newest news in Me Land is that I now get paid to spend time at my favorite bookstore, The Last Bookstore. Hey, remember when I talked about it that one time and that other time. . . and all those times on Twitter and Facebook? WELL I WORK THERE NOW.

Ironically, my new bookstore job has left me with less time to read, but IN THEORY I'm reading The Life of Pi, If He Hollers Let Him Go, and Frankenstein (yes, STILL . . . it just won't END).

I'm only a few pages in on . . . well, all of my current books, so I should probably pick one of them up instead of filling every spare moment with old episodes of Dr. Who. But I just got my Netflix Instant account back, and I couldn't help but go on a bit of a Who-bender. I finished Series 1 (pretty much in one day), and I'm kind of feeling the same way Rose is feeling. *eyes David Tennant suspiciously*

Never mind. I think I'll manage.

Hump Day Nerdgasm: Geekery Edition

I frequently venture from Nerdtown to Geekdom (the path between them is paved with Skittles), and I have something to show you that falls in Geek Jurisdiction. Come . . . let us sally forth together!

I don't consider myself a gamer (of the video or table-top variety), but I pretty much approve of everything Wil Wheaton and Felicia Day do. I would follow them into the bowels of Mordor. I would carry their cloaks while they captured a rogue Qunari mage. I would completely humiliate myself on my own blog.

So that's how I ended up a frequent visitor of Geek & Sundry. And the website has a new feature called "Written by a Kid" that is . . . just delightful. It's KIND of like Drunk History, except instead of grad students recounting history stories under the influence of LOTS of alcohol, it's adorable children telling made-up stories under the influence of their crazy imaginations. And then famous people act them out.

There's only one video up so far, but it features Joss Whedon battling a one-eyed monster while shimmying around in a permanent squat. And I brought it here for you. Because I love you THAT much.

UPDATE: A second episode of "Written by a Kid" just went up! It has a goth stepdad. Of course it does.

Hump Day Nerdgasm: Broken Dreams Edition

It's been almost 4 years since I last set foot in a newsroom or any tangential journalistic structure, so when I heard the Los Angeles Times was offering a free tour of its Olympic printing plant I was allllll over it.

Brace yourselves, friends. The nerd fumes in here are about to get more potent than usual.

The Olympic Plant is the largest newspaper printing facility in the country (the pressroom alone is 55,700 square feet).

ECHO . . . ECHo . . . ECho . . . Echo . . . echo

But here's where the sads come in for anyone who was, is, or aspires to be in the newspaper business: WHERE ARE ALL THE HUMANS?

We were here from 7:30 p.m. to 9 p.m. That falls right in peak production hours, because all the papers going out the next morning are printed the night before. And, yeah, newspapers WERE flying by on all sides. But all this action was overseen by a skeleton crew. I asked our tour guide later that night if the production side of the business had experienced as many layoffs as the editorial side in recent years, and he said this production facility in particular has only about 200 staff left . . . out of 500.

OK. Time for something happy now. And what could be happier than ROBOTS? Robots that shuttle 2,400-pound rolls of paper around (a job that humans probably used to do, but let's not think about that right now). YAY, ROBOTS!

Staff: "Oh noes! We're almost out of paper."
Robot: "HERE I COME TO SAVE THE DAY!"

"Here I come still."

The printing presses burn through about 300 gigantor rolls of paper in a 24-hour period. So WHERE do they keep all that paper?

Jenny found it! Thanks, Jenny!

Each roll of recycled paper costs the Times $600.

This is the machine that makes all those tidy columns.

It's gone rogue! NO ONE IS SAFE.

At one point, we were all herded into a freight elevator. And just when Jenny and I were looking at each other and thinking, "This is the part where we find out the tour was just an elaborate excuse to get us here so they can harvest our organs," we saw THIS on the wall:

GAH!

Not to worry. The freight elevator was just taking us to the printing presses.

Now, I've been watching a lot of Firefly lately, AND our guide called the printing plant the Death Star of News at the very start of the tour . . . so it's only natural that I should pretend to be in a spaceship for the duration. And THIS part was the most spaceshippy of all.

Can't you picture River Tam tucked up against the railing?

Only three of the people in this picture work here. Don't get too excited.

We ended the tour in the distribution center and were once again reminded that barely any humans are employed here.

TWO HUMANS!

Automated machines as far as the eye can see.

So next month is the tour of the editorial building in Downtown Los Angeles. Those pictures are certain to feature lots and lots of empty desks. So look forward to THAT.

Hump Day Nerdgasm: The Not-Actually-Wednesday Edition

So it's 2 a.m., and that means it's officially Thursday. We are over the hump and have now begun our descent. Wednesday came and went with nary a Nerdgasm.

But listen here, you lot . . . I have nerdy things to say EVERY day of the week, and I won't be silenced just because it's Thursday or because my brain has switched into hibernation mode or because I'm inexplicably craving Ramen right now!

*ponders*

I really don't have much to say, as it turns out. But I suppose I could show you pictures from my latest excursion to the Last Bookstore?

A group of us went Monday with the intention of spectating the open mic night, but then we made the mistake of entering the $1-book labyrinth . . . never to be heard from again. *ominous tubas*

I haven't been able to get any decent pictures of this labyrinth of books, but my friend Jon has a fancy iPhone and some kind of fancy photo editor app that's available only on fancy iPhones, and what I'm leading up to is that he posted the pictures on Facebook and I thieved them. (Jon, if you're reading this, can I use these pictures I'm already using? I'll take your silence as consent.)

OooooOOOOoooOOOooooooooo

Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh

Ridiculous, yes? And those are only from the FIRST room. The shelves wind on and on and-on-and-on-and-on.

So I decided to let myself buy five books. I was holding Anansi Boys, Sophie's Choice, In Cold Blood, and Cider House Rules and looking for a fifth when another friend flashed this before my eyes:

Space cowboys with shenanigans included.

So I put all those books back (*scoff* Books. Who needs 'em?).

But THEN I strayed farther into the labyrinth and found two books that promised to be the key to my escape, and I really had no choice but to take them or face an eternity trapped in a room with millions of books (the HORROR).

I've been meaning to read A Prayer for Owen Meany for the LONGEST. And I'm hoping a reread of Redwall will revive the golden reading days of my youth. Plus, I'm curious if the feasting scenes will still give me the jonesies for a hunk of bread and a block of cheese (I'll keep you posted on that).

So that's what I left with that day the next day when I went BACK . . . because on Monday night my card was declined and I had to ask the nice people at the desk to hold my treasure until I could return with sufficient funds.

Hump Day Nerdgasm, July 4th Edition: Let's kick the tires and light the fires!

So my husband and I have this tradition. Every year for the past 6 years, we've watched Independence Day in three parts, starting on July 2 and ending (MOST triumphantly) on July 4.

Every July 2, we feel sorry for Randy Quaid (seriously, he got NONE of the good genes in that family, poor guy). We fall in love all over again with Julius "Jewish Dad" Levinson. I inevitably point out that David Levinson perfected the sexy-hipster-nerd look.

Sa-WOON.

We usually end the day wondering whether our dogs would obediently follow us if we had to run for our lives to escape a fire-cloud . . . or if they would take off in some other direction entirely (the latter is generally deemed most likely to occur).

EVERY DOG FOR ITSELF.

Every July 3, we laugh at how un-Jayne-like Adam Baldwin is in his cute little military uniform with his Business Face and his "yes, sir/no, sir."

You go GET that alien, mister. *pinches cheeks*

I say, "That's Data, right? From Star Trek?" and my husband looks at me like I'm stupid.

It totally IS Data. WHO'S STUPID NOW?

Then the president's daughter asks, "Is mommy sleeping now?" . . . and my husband cries (and maybe me, too, a little).

Husband: "Damn kid." *weeps*

But on July 4, all the sads are washed away with a refreshing wave of Will Smith/Jeff Goldblum banter (the best KIND of banter, if you ask me) and a computer virus that saves the day. (Side note: Please refrain from criticizing in any forum the plausibility of such a virus. THIS MOVIE HAS ALIENS.)

Who DARES QUESTION our saving-the-world methods?

And let's not forget the most important part of EVERY July 4: the Speech with a capital S, delivered by THE best make-believe president of all time (this is not up for debate).

GOOOOOOO HUMANS! Now let's eat things.

Also, here's this HelloGiggles article: Everything I Need to Know, I Learned From Independence Day.

Hump Day Nerdgasm: Lazy-Brain Edition

I'm in between projects, and my brain, as my husband lovingly puts it, is in standby mode. But it's Hump Day, and I owe you something nerdy, darn it!

Do you guys watch Castle? You should . . . if only to see the episode wherein THIS happens.

And if you didn't get that reference . . .

Hump Day Nerdgasm: Puberty Flashback Edition

In my awkward adolescent years, directly following my classics-only phase (A Clockwork Orange isn't suitable for 8-year-old girls? Pshaw!), I went through a period of reading ONLY from the Young Adult Science Fiction/Fantasy shelf at the severely limited Air Force Base library. After wading through a good amount of terrible-awful, I found Madeleine L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time. I didn't know anything about it when I pulled it off the shelf, and I don't know what persuaded me to take it home.

Must have been the alluring cover design

But, like so many generations of readers before and after me, I was immediately entranced. And I will ALWAYS equate this book with the rare feeling of being 100% captured by a story . . . maybe for the first time (it's possible The Boxcar Children series got to me first).

This year marks the 50th anniversary of this crazy-pants book, and it's also the year it will be released as a graphic novel, custom tailored for consumption by a whole new generation of Meg Murrys, Charles Wallaces, and Calvin O'Keefes.

Coming in October!

Adapted and illustrated by Hope Larson.

First glimpse of Meg Murry.

More? Here, have this New York Times article about how Meg Murry bridged the gap between young female readers and the male-dominated sci-fi genre.

Hump Day Nerdgasm: A Cautionary Tale

We're all acquainted with the find/replace option in word processors, yes? It's a fancy little doodad that highlights a thing for us and then replaces it with another thing altogether. And there are JUST so many times in a human person's life when this tool comes in handy.

All-too-common scenario: The main character of the massive novel you have just written comes to you in a dream and says, "My name ISN'T Stan Mason. If you want to know my true name, look to the humble mountain goat."

This, as you realize upon waking, means you have to rename your character Wispy Wiggins (according to the strict rules of dream visitations). But what of all those Stans and Masons peppering your manuscript? The solution is none other than Find and Replace.

Your generally positive outlook on life is reclaimed! That sandwich you've been saving to celebrate Manuscript Submission Day is finally within your mouth-grasp.

But stay a moment. What's that sweet sound you hear? The siren call of the "Replace All" button.

You know you shouldn't, but you're just no match for its magnetic pull.

So you click it.

Important side note: The publisher didn't assign you an editor for this book, because there's been a nationwide shortage on editors. Because they've almost all been committed to psych wards . . . or something.

Only after the book has arrived in bookstores nationwide do you realize that you have been royally screwed by "Replace All."

Your timely passages about Kazakhstan? Those are now about . . . Kazakhwispy. Crucial references to the Mason-Dixon Line and mason jars and the Freemasons? Well, they just confuse the hell out of everyone. YOUR BOOK IS RUINED. I HOPE YOU ENJOYED YOUR SANDWICH.

******

Rant inspired by the recent War and Peace find/replace goof.

Hump Day Nerdgasm (an increasingly regular thing)

If we're friends, I've probably invited you to a little event called Literary Death Match. If you've never heard me talk about this ever, then we are not friends. I'm sorry you had to find out this way.

Los Angeles became home base for Lit Death Match when event creator Todd Zuniga (who has been compared to Gatsby, always dresses for the occasion, and is one of the LA Times' Faces to Watch in 2012) moved here from Chicago. But he still travels all over to host these shindigs, which have been held in 36 cities around the world. If you live in San Francisco, Minneapolis, Boston, London, New York City, or pretty much any other major city anywhere, you have no excuse not to go to at least one of these and then get addicted and go to EVERY ONE FOR THE REST OF FOREVER.

But you're still a little confused about exactly what this is, aren't you?

Each episode features four different writers (be they well established or up-and-coming) and three judges. The readers are divided into two rounds, in which they each read an excerpt from their own work (published or unpublished), within a 7-minute time period. The judges---usually a mix of literary hard-hitters, celebrities, and comedians---decide the winner of each round based on the criteria of literary merit, performance, and intangibles.

Comedian Rory Scovel, musician Moby, and LA Times staff writer Carolyn Kellogg
pretend to take judging seriously while Taylor Negron reads at LDM  LA, Ep. 9.

The judging usually isn't serious or particularly insightful, but it's ALWAYS entertaining. And most of the audience is well into their second cocktail before the reading even starts, so everything is the most poignant and/or hilarious thing they've ever heard.

The winners of each round go head-to-head in a finale that is usually only vaguely related to literature and always requires volunteers from the audience. It could be "Pin the Mustache on Hemingway" or "Throw the Cupcake at Brett Easton Ellis's Face," or some other activity that involves tipsy audience members getting fresh with literary greats. Eventually, a winner is declared.

Kit (of Books Are My Boyfriends) reuniting Hemingway with his mustache.

You never know what may happen at Lit Death Match. Last night, for instance, I sat slightly to the left of Michael C. Hall, and the friend I went with convinced two out of three of the celebrity judges to make out with him (side note: only one of those judges was a woman).

So next time I ask you to come to Lit Death Match with me, you should have no questions. And you should be honored to have the opportunity. And you should say yes.

Hump Day Nerdgasm (a fairly regular thing)

Today we talk about a tumblr that's only tentatively related to books . . . and then I give you GIFs. (Not GIFTS. I'M NOT MADE OF MONEY.)

I don't usually tumble, but I've gotten hooked on #realtalk from your editor. This little piece of sunshine is run (written?) by Ann Friedman, executive editor of GOOD magazine . . . which is based in Los Angeles, coincidentally (hire me, please, Ann Friedman?).

Maybe it's my rose-colored journalism memories, or maybe it's the parts I can still relate to because they apply to the kind of editing I do now, but I always feel exponentially kick-assier after I scroll through. It's become a crucial part of my daily prework routine.

1. Coffee
2. Self-affirmation exercises
3. Limbering
4. More coffee
5. "#realtalk from your editor"-ing
6. Kicking ass

Some tidbits.

WHEN SOMEONE SAYS TABLETS 

WILL SAVE JOURNALISM

WHEN SOMEONE CALLS 

A BLOG POST A "BLOG"

WHEN A WRITER TELLS ME

SHE THINKS EDITORS ARE MEAN

I am now prepared for the ass-kicking portion of my day. SALLY FORTH!

Hump Day Nerdgasm (apparently, a semiregular thing)

We've all seen fan art for grown-up Calvin and Hobbes, yes? There's a LOT a lot floating around the interwebs. Some of it is sad. Some of it is funny. All of it makes you want to hug your favorite stuffed animal.

But I have a favorite. A dear friend who always makes sure I experience no shortage of GIFs sent these to me a while ago, and I can't believe I've never shared them here . . . here in my sharing place where I share things.

Without further ado, I present to you . . . Calvin and Hobbes, secret agents.

And their arch nemeses . . . Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh.

I always feared his honey problem would lead him to a life of crime.

This Hump Day Nerdgasm has been brought to you by kizer180. Visit the artist's deviantART page for more brilliant deviations.

Hump Day Nerdgasm (not actually a regular thing)

I've just seen something that made my nerdy little heart skip a beat, and it happens to be Wednesday (I actually thought it was Tuesday until 5 seconds ago when I asked the nearest person what day it is). This probably won't be a regular occurrence, because I can't be expected to get this excited on a weekly basis. We have to take these things as they come.

Anyway, LOOK AT THIS FLOWCHART. Oh, I know . . . flowcharts are for squares. But this one has rectangles (HA!). I apologize for that. Behold, How a Book Is Born.

This is accurate . . . I'm assuming. Except the part about the copy editor quitting in horror, because I've never given up on a book. I've CONTINUED EDITING in horror, but I've never QUIT in horror. I am a professional.