Buffy The Vampire Slayer

For those unfamiliar with the Posting Board Party (PBP), it’s a charity fundraiser for Make-A-Wish that is completely organized by fans, for fans. It originated at the official Buffy message board, the Bronze, back when Joss didn’t own a suit, and still drove a used car. The cast and crew of Buffy and Angel always seem to find their way to the party, and the fans raise an assload of cash for charity, and this year, the bigass check was $30,000.00.

This year’s lineup of VIP guests included Eliza Dushku, J. August Richards, Julie Benz, Alexis Denisof, Adam Busch, Tom Lenk, Danny Strong, Mark Lutz, Summer Glau, and of course, Joss Whedon and most of the writing staffs of Angel, Buffy, and Firefly.

My ticket to the event was a gift from a dear friend who took pity on me for having spent most of last year’s party chained to the auction tables. Later, I was blessed with a VIP badge by PBP Prez, Bryan Bonner, the host with the most. I was planning to drown my last braincell in gin, and make an ass out of myself to Doug Petrie. I accomplished both goals.

Upon arrival at the hall, I jetted down to the guest lounge for a drink and a smoke, and low and behold, there was Julie Benz. That’s it. I didn’t eavesdrop on her, and if I had, I wouldn’t tell you what she said, so there.

Back in the lounge, I totally overstepped any personal space boundary, and pinched Tim Minear’s ass. Instead of punching me in the jaw, he gave me a hug. We may have had a conversation, but I can’t remember what was said, because chaos was erupting over Eliza Dushku’s arrival. Yes. Eliza is beautiful.

Talking to actors is always weird and awkward for me. They live inside my television, and when they suddenly appear in the same room with me, it gives me the wiggins. I’d rather hang with the writers, the costumers, the gaffers. They don’t so much tear down the wall between fantasy and reality that I like to keep completely separate. Like, I was the kid who needed therapy after finding out that Penny Marshall and Cindy Williams of Laverne & Shirley weren’t best buds. Hearing James Marsters speak in a Valley accent a few years back completely killed my Spike lust. Yeah. It is childish and unfair, but it’s my neurosis, so shut up or I’ll take all the toys and go home.

All my reality issues seemed to melt out of my ear as the gin and tonics numbed the lines of the real world and gave me false courage. I spied a David Denman at the door on my way to the smoker’s lounge, the tangle of concrete steps and landings at nightmarish levels of steepness, concocted to kill anyone who partook of too much gin AND dared wear 3 inch platforms.

Denman was there with his lurvely wife, and looked much less frightened by the fanlove than the year before. I had done some serious tracking down and begging of Denman’s agent to get him to the 2002 PBP, and he seemed a little confused about the party, and a little wary of the crowds. So. I was surprised and giddy (yes, giddy) that he and his Mrs. decided to make a return appearance. I have a hopeless crush on Skip!, the big rubber dude that works for the Powers That Be on Angel. One can’t write Skip!, without the prerequisite exclamation points, especially since he’s the the only character left on the show who I don’t want to see eviscerated. Denman is doing well, working, and is still very, very, tall. I had a ton of questions, but didn’t want to monopolize his time with the fans, or with J. August Richards, who soon appeared at the entrance and struck up a conversation with Denman. I found my way back to the gin….

…And bumped into the Mighty Ben Edlund. Ben Edlund created the Tick, wrote for Firefly, and is writing episode 20 of Angel. He was all laid back and sexy in a plaid suit, drink in hand, leaning against a pole in front of the bar, looking tragically cool. Since I am tragically uncool, all I could muster was, "Hey Ben Edlund, your grandmother lives in the same town as my parents."

Then I shoved my foot back in my mouth and went outside for a smoke and hoped that I’d smack my head on the concrete and die. But outside was the place to be. All of us without pensions were smoking til our lungs bled, desperately hoping to die before retirement.

It’s odd to watch the Ubervamp smoke a cigarette and chat with the guy in the Skip!suit.

Rob Hall of Almost Human, brought along actors made up as assorted vamps, Skip the Demon, the Beast, and the Ubervamp, as a gift to the fans. We love Rob Hall. Who is gonna start the fanclub? C’mon. Step up to the plate.

As always, there was lots of dishy talk amongst the attendees.

Gossip heard: Summer Glau was with a really cute up-and-coming actor.

Truth Be Told: That was John, Tim Minear’s assistant. Not dating Summer, but yes, he’s really cute. And no, he’s not an actor, but Tim tortured the shit out of him once and made him put on those tightpants for a scene in Firefly.

Gossip Heard: Drew Goddard is hot.

Truth Be Told: He’s not as hot as Jane Espenson

Gossip Heard: spoiler spoiler spoiler spoiler

Truth Be Told: True, False, Are you on crack?, yes, that’s in the works.

Gossip Heard: Principal McHottie was at the PBP.

Truth Be Told: That was PBPc’s Bryan Bonner. He’s actually a Lawyer McHottie.

The after-party was at the Cat & Fiddle, not far from my apartment, but then, all I wanted was a turkey sandwich, made by angry frycooks, under flourescent lights. So it was off to Mel’s. Unfortunately, Mel’s on Highland now has karaoke. I hate karaoke. When I die and burn in Hell, there will be endless karaoke, and lots of dull eyeliner pencils with no sharpeners. Our poor dear waiter came to take our order, and I shouted, "WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?" A friend quickly found us a table as far away from the karaoke nightmare as possible. I ate my turkey sandwich, and tipped the freaked-out waiter well. It was then that I realized Camden Toy, the actor who plays the Ubervamp, had arrived at Mel’s. I had a brief fantasy of the Ubervamp ripping the tonsils out of the drunken ass singing badly in the middle of Mels, and then left for a party at the Renaissance hotel.

I arrived around three-ish, in the suite where a borrowed prop was being stored; the bigass rubber snake from Graduation Day II.

It had a "Hello. My Name is…" tag that read "Frank" and was holding a tip cup. I was told that "Frank" had a great time that weekend, and was photographed wearing women’s panties, at some point.

Sober enough to get my ass home, I went to bed for a few hours before showing up for the Writers Luncheon, a prize donated by the webmasters of JaneEspenson.com and DavidFury.net.

Those of you who are not aware should know that I’m the webmaster of DavidFury.net, and in a huge feat of journalistic integrity, I’m just gonna say that David Fury is sexiness on a stick, and overall, a really nice guy for donating his time to have lunch with a few fans, as is Ms. Jane Espenson. Well, she’s not a guy. And she’s more like beauty in a bucket, which is different than sexiness on a stick. I am totally writing this column at 12AM the night before it is due. Please don’t tell my editor.

Anyway, I got a 10AM wake-up call from Prez Blade, the host of the PBP, saying that the one of the winners didn’t get her envelope with the directions and time and such. Nothing is easy. Once that was cleared up and I had a chance to get hydrated, showered, and took an hour or two to scrape the grunge off my teeth, I drove on over to Jerry’s Deli on Beverly. Jane Espenson was already inside with a fan, but we didn’t know that, and then Fury showed up, and then there was some mass confusion, but it ended up being okay. What was said at the lunch I cannot say, as that is between the fans and the writers. I sat with the infamous Polgara (who was blessed by Fury by having a demon named after her in an ep of Buffy), and Dachelle, webmasters of JaneEspenson.com and DrewGoddard.com, respectfully. We minded our own damned business, during the lunch, but I checked, and all had a great time. Goddard had called on Friday to say he was on script and couldn’t make it. Selfish bastard. No, really, he seemed like a swell guy, and I shall use this opportunity to guilt him into an interview.

Hey, Goddard, grant me an interview. Petrie did. Being interviewed by me is all the rage, these days. I suck at it, but I swear it will only take 15 minutes and I won’t make up too many bizarre anecdotes involving trout and toe-rings.

There were many more sleepless hours, great Thai food (get the yellow curry), and lots of gossip and dish from the old school Bronzers. Talk about getting together next year, about friendships made and lost, marraiges, babies, passing of BAR exams, who scooped, got scooped, and was denied the scoopage. So many lives intertwined in the little web community born at www.buffy.com, seven years ago. It’s on a new network’s website, and has become a chatroom that blows donkey dick and doesn’t work in netscape, but it was damned prolific, once upon a time.

I talked a lot about the talent behind Buffy in this column, because, yo, if you’re not a Bronzer, you’re just not going to understand the love that went into talking Closet Buffyholic off the ledge when she took the BAR exam, or the saddness on the day the Bronze closed down, leaving us all homeless and wandering the vast desert of the internet, cold and alone, or the fabulousness of how ’stina always sings The Devil Went Down to Georgia once the liquor starts flowing.

It’s the Bronzers who make PBP weekend possible. If you never got a chance to be a Bronzer, you really did miss out on the gooey center of the fandom. Generous, funny, thoughtful, infuriating, gorgeous, mouthy. My buds. I’ll miss them more than I’ll miss the show.

If you’d like to donate to the bigass check to Make-A-Wish, please visit www.pbparty.com for address info.