Fandom Power

A semi-serious post, m’peeps.

On July 31, it was the birthday of both (Queen) JK Rowling and (fictional) Harry Potter.

On my Facebook, I posted this:





Thinking about all that Harry has meant to me got me thinking about how his message has extended beyond Jo’s books.  If you aren’t familiar with the Harry Potter Alliance, you outta be.  It is an NGO sparked by concepts found in literature and other fandom-fueled genres, to fight for social justice.

To, as John and Hank Green would say, “decrease world suck.”

Because, as the Wizard Wrock band Harry and the Potters would say, “the weapon we have is love.”

Need an example?

Watch this.

Then watch this.

And remember that Dumbledore told us, “the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy.”

No one wants to disappoint Dumbledore.


Fangirling Over SYTYCD

So this just happened …


It’s all in reference to Shmeila, who really does love So You Think You Can Dance to an obsessive level. I have no idea where she gets it.

Someday, when she’s on the show, it will be adorable for Kat Deeley to point out these tweets.

Does Fangirling Over Food Count? Um, Yes.

Sort of following this week’s Asian-theme (two blogs makes a theme because it’s my blog. Shut Up.), I’d like to take moment to talk about food.

I’m a fan. A big fan. A big, fat fan.

Most of my best friends happen to be petite Asian beauties, which can be awkward, as a thick boricua, who happens to be up about forty el-bees.  But they love me as I am, and I love them, and we all just ignore the fact that I can eat their weight in rainbow rolls at all-u-can-eat sushi.

What is their secret?

I have a new theory.  Are you ready? … The bento box.

If you aren’t familiar, a bento box is a lunchbox with dividers and compartments for each of your foods.  Like Lunchables, but not crap.  They also appeal to me because they usually contain food art, themed to cartoon obsessions (i.e. Hello Kitty, Pokemon).  It encourages portion control and adorableness.


This week Shmohnny started a Biggest Loser competition at his work.  As we go back-to-school shopping, I’m strongly considering going the bento route.

Can anyone recommend a bento set they like?

Also, and more importantly, does anyone know any Adventure Time recipes?

I Can Fangirl in Multiple Languages


Shmeila isn’t allowed to say “sexy,” so she always shouts, “HEY LEXY LADY!”

This weekend I ran the Warrior Dash, so I mostly want to blog about being sore and stiff and bruised and about cleaning mud out of my bathing suit areas. But that would be off-theme, so instead I thought I’d tell you about my latest obsession/distraction from agonizing pain.


This candy-pop music export from Korea is fun and crack-level addictive. Loud! Shiny! And everyone involved is so pretty. You might think you aren’t familiar with K-Pop, but you are. You know the lamest of all examples: a little ditty called Gangnam Style. Even my kid (we’ll call her Shmeila) knows it.

But that song does have the elements: great beat, colorful video, Korean lyrics with that one crazy English line. HEY SEXY LADY!

My favorite K-Pop group is definitely Girls Generation. Frankly, they make the Spice Girls look a little fat and lazy. I heart them so much!


Google Images – credit

One of the big critiques of K-Pop is that they are too manufactured. There are, like, these K-Pop schools where groups are assembled and trained! As Americans we are simply APPALLED that an ARTIST would not play in seedy bars before hitting it big, or something. I’m as against Big Business as the next homie, but c’mon, Kelly Clarkson*, who are we kidding? We have a lot of machines pumping out our artists, in the good ol’ USA.

Long live K-Pop! Until the next … Ooooh! Shiny!

*Kelly Clarkson has never said she is anti-K-Pop. In fact, she is a product of American Idol! Huh.

JK Rowling: Grow a Pair!

If JK Rowling walked into the room right now, I would hop right up, bend right over, and kiss her fancy snakeskin diamond-encrusted stilettos because

a) I am a huge fan of her writing


b) I am such a creeper, I know that she has a penchant for outlandish, yet gorgeous shoes.

Something about her, by the way, which is arguably feminine.

And yet …

When Jk Rowling first published Harry Potter, she was told by publishers that boys wouldn’t read this type of novel, with a male hero, if it was written by a woman (at least that’s how I’ve heard it – have you heard differently?).

Anyway, instead of being all, “suck it! This is awesome and you know it, and who cares if I have a uterus – jealous?!” she adopted a fake middle name from her grandmother Kathleen, and added it to her first name Joanne, and became JK.

I bring this up today because this week it was revealed that Jk Rowling published another book under a pseudonym. That means she could pick any name she wanted … AND SHE PICKED A DUDE’S NAME! Robert Galbraith.

I’m so disappointed.

She had an opportunity to undermine everything the book industry says about authors: men outsell women, men write more broadly, men are better … and tell them to wank off.

And mean it.

C’mon Joanne … Grow a pair.

And by that, I mean ovaries.

After Cory: A Gleek Reflects on Death and Twitter

It was because of Glee that I created my Fanschmurl Twitter account.  I needed a way to follow Lea Michele and Naya Rivera and yes, Cory Monteith, without the judgement of my IRL friends.

I found there something I’d hoped for: candid photos of cast members – selfies on set or vacay shots or dinners out. I found tweets between cast members confirming real BFF statuses.  I found real people behind the silly show I really love.
And then I found something more.
There is this huge, passionate (some may say rabid) community of fans surrounding Glee.  Real friendships formed online as soon as I professed myself a Gleek.
This weekend, I heard about Cory’s death while I was at a wedding.  I had to put it away from myself. I didn’t have any access to technology at the time; I couldn’t find out more, or begin mourning with those who would understand.  Others shook their head and said, ” too bad.”  I just waited.
The next day, I gathered myself together to read the news sources properly.  I read my texts.  Even my IRL friends had texted me to give me the news.  And then Twitter.  It was crammed with speculation and sobs and obligatory well-wishes from disconnected celebs and out and out mourning from those in the know.
I found my people.  My Gleek friends who have been with me since the beginning.  We cried with each other – we who have never met.  We thought about Lea, about Cory’s family.  We wondered about the show.  We are so sad.  We hurt for his hurt.
There’s a closeness Twitter affords us with celebrities; an in to their worlds.  I know where Cory was that night.  I know too much.  So to Gleeks – rabid fans – it feels like we lost a character, an actor, a friend.

What It Takes To Love The Cubs

I’ve been thinking a lot about loyalty lately. It’s a trait I most often associate with my husband (we’ll call him Shmohnny) and not myself. After all, he has had the same best friends his whole life. He’s lived in two cities and worked only a couple of jobs.

I, on the other hand, have moved every 2-3 years before marrying him, worked in jobs ranging from janitor to bridal consultant to youth pastor to teacher and a dozen more. I try to keep in touch with friends, but generally suck at it.

So to sum up, Shmohnny loyal, Fanschmurl disloyal.

And yet …

As I wrote in my guest blog yesterday, I have been loyal to New Kids On The Block for 25 years and THAT hasn’t always been easy.

But there’s more!

I’ve also loved the Chicago Cubs since 1989. That’s 24 years of disappointment and heartbreak, baby. If that ain’t loyalty, I don’t know what is.

To be fair, I was indoctrinated in a good season (that’s how they getchya – like drug dealers).  And of course, it started with crushes. Ryne Sandburg and Mark Grace.  Second and first base, respectively … and they could get on base with me any time! Bah-dum-dum

Just kidding.  That’s gross.  I was in the 6th grade.

Anyway, that year the Cubs made it to the National League Championships, where they lost to the Giants.  We were picking up my grandpa from the train station that day, and I found a guy with a portable T.V. getting just enough reception to see the final play: Ryne grounded out.

I was devastated.  I was hooked.

In the 8th grade, my friends threw me a surprise birthday party.  It was Cubs themed.  There was a giant cardboard cut-out of Andre Dawson and Rick Sutcliffe, baseball cupcakes, and it was the first boy-girl party at my house.

They also all went in together and bought me a real Cubs Starter jacket, just like the players wear.  I still wear it.  It’s vintage.

24 years later, I don’t live in Chicago anymore.  Shmohnny desperately wants me to love the Mariners.  He’s very loyal to them.  But I just can’t.  I love the Cubs.

I always have.  I always will.