If there's one thing the OBSSE has excelled at over the years it is the art of getting together and celebrating some, any, or no special occasion. Preferably with Scullyritas. This year we gathered all over the country to celebrate the kickoff of the season of Scully. Here are some details of the events that took place when two or more gathered in The Blessed One's name.
N E W Y O R K
The first thing I would like to say about the Westchester, NY Premiere Party is that everyone remained clothed. No one was prancing about in towels, not!towels, or any other unmentionable items of lingerie. I've only heard rumors about what the rest of you did together, but Sister Rosemary, Sister Cricket and I, Jean, Jean the prance machine, remained dignified.
Okay, so we were dignified until we started pounding back the red wine. Oh, like you weren't all sucking down Scullyritas and dancing on tabletops. But we did not upset our appetizer tray of brie and crackers, nor did we splatter our homemade manicotti, salad and garlic bread. We had GREAT food; if there's one thing we New York area Italians do well, it's cook. All right, so Sister Rosemary cooks and the rest of us were professional eaters.
And we had an interactive X-Files dessert. I made dirt. Yes, dirt. The interactive part came when we converted the dirt from mere soil into a darling little graveyard, complete with tombstones reading " "Here Lies Pendrell," "Queequeg," "Mr. X" and a lovely pictorial rendition of CGB Spender as a tiny smoldering cigarette.
I know you're all wondering how dirt could possibly be more fun than, say, a naked ranting Cathy B. But consider that this dirt was in reality a mixture of vanilla pudding, whipped cream, REAL CREAM CHEESE and crushed Oreo cookies, with decorated Pepperidge Farm Mint Milanos serving as the gravestones. It was fun to make. It was fun to eat. It was fun to pose our PIs making out like rabid llamas among the tiny edible headstones and take pictures of them ... oopsie, maybe I wasn't supposed to mention that ... Um, anyway, we laughed, we screamed, we shouted things at the TV. And Sister Rosemary didn't get evicted. That was the most important part of the night.
So neener and phnar, our party was small but mighty. Which, interestingly enough, was exactly the same description someone yelled out about the size of Doggett's testicles.
D E N V E R
The best of all premiere parties this year took place, no doubt, in the vicinity of Denver, Colorado - in Westminster, more specifically, where a mighty trout resides that is only with much effort to me tamed by its landladies, the well-known Autumn and the renowned Nanchita. Now I'll admit I only attended that one party, but I know quality when it hits me over the head with a Broncos helmet snack holder. Which, in its unlimited coolness, beats the crap out of naked OBSSE members, trust me. The party went off to a great start on Saturday already (well, for me) when Autumn and Nanchita showed me how much I suck at fishing but excel at drinking beer at the local Dave and Buster's and then later when I finally had the occasion to show Autumn's brother Brother Birch and his partner Drex, both infamous with the 1999 Beaver Village Fest crowd, just how big a good 'rita needs to be. (We had been having issues there.) And then the party soared many hours before the actual premiere with the arrival of the two Driving Sisters from Minnesota, Angie (Ant) and Chickie, who were not deterred by snow and hundreds of miles of Nebraska from spending 14 hours in a car - one way, that is - to make the event even more special. It worked, too.
The next day, the Big Day, it snowed. Still, Angie, Chickie and I were sent to get some ice and other bare necessities for the evening hullabaloo while Autumn and Nanchita caught their cats and put them in the spare guest room. Both missions accomplished and attired with the proper regalia, we could sit and watch the Broncos emerge victoriously from what was but a minor skirmish with the unlucky NY Jets.
They would have done better to concede the game before it even started, because as everyone knows Scully is a Broncos fan and there was absolutely no way the Broncos could have lost a game on Premiere Day. (Although, as we now know, an early concession can lead to lengthy manual recounts. Maybe not, then.) Close to the end of the game the first in-state premiere guests began to arrive and take advantage of the snack helmet. If I remember right there were: Mike, Paul, Sister Jessica/Naomi from California, Melly and her friend, An Amazon Runs and Mr. Amazon Runs, Aspen and a friend, Birch and Drex, Gretchen and Carri. I can now safely say that Sister Amazon Runs makes a mean lasagna, and that Aspen's Pineapple Delight deserves the adjective "mean" in earnest.
And then, after watching a few Electronic Press Kits that sort of appeared out of thin air and reliving the shock that came inevitably the moment those last three words of Scully's from Requiem resonated from the mighty speakers in Autumn's living room, the premiere commenced and X-Philedom was, at last, reunited. We sat. We watched. And we were pleased. The rest, as they say, is history. -- Glasses
H O U S T O N, T E X A S
It was more of a self-obssessed ghoul convention than an X-Files premiere party.
What started as a handful of sisters journeying to Houston to view the premiere at Sister Scooby's quickly became an operation as complex as the Berlin Airlift. 17 women, two bathrooms, a dozen air mattresses, and a truckload of booze. You do the math.
Surprisingly, we encountered no logistical nightmares to speak of. Heck, we got to the first showing of 'Charlie's Angels' on Saturday. And our dinner reservations at Chuy's? On time. "How?" you might ask.
The answer is obvious. We are inexplicably the most efficient inefficient whores around. -- Leah and Beer
K E N T U C K Y
November 5 arrived with great anticipation...The faithful were gathered -- oh forget it, if you want purple prose, call Chris Carter!
The few, the proud, the Kentuckians all gathered at Sister Cathy S' house for food, fun and of course episode viewing. Our mission was simple: to enjoy the episode, to spend quality time with fellow Philes, and consume as much food as possible in the few short hours we had together.
We asked three important things of each participant: come with a positive attitude (all nay-sayers were banished to the back porch), a big appetite and a crisp, new white T-shirt. That's right, we were designing premiere party apparel. Our goal -- to be the envy of Philes everywhere. Our vision became a reality without too much difficulty, (excluding Cathy and her love for all things upside down) and a fine time was had by all.
We donned our shirts in time for the 9 o'clock hour when all things were still. We marveled at the shortest teaser in show history. We laughed at the new credits (what happened to Mulder's photo?) and enjoyed every Scully-filled moment. The hardest part was seeing the clock read 9:55 and knowing we were going to be forced to wait another six days, 23 hours, and 5 minutes before we could reconvene. -- Sister Bruce
B A Y A R E A
It all started out with threats. Autumn has taught me well, that threats get results... and so I made rules and threatened dire consequences if they were broken. You will be interested to hear that the punishment threatened was being stripped down to yer bare bod and being thrown out into the cold, wet night for a short romp in front of all present. Unfortunately, my threats worked out too well (or I'm too much of a wimp) and we had no Naked Brethren to rival Cathy B. I wonder what rule Cathy B broke.
Anyway, rule one was to bring XF-themed/featured food. The food highlight was an cheese-alien platter complete with internal (and edible) organs. We also had mushroom and pepperoni pizza delivered by a plastic fanged delivery boy (who tried, but failed to fly squirrel fashion across the room) - See Rule 2. Other featured items: Chaco fried chicken, Alien cookies (made fresh and green), Antarctica Surprise (a dessert), Scully Salad, Scullyritas and red wine (opened Scully-fashion). Rule two was to dress in XF/OBSSE garb or to come as a character. I dressed up as Esther Nairn, though due to her being held hostage by the DDAM, my little love-child was not present... darn. Flywoman claimed to be Mulder in her grey turtleneck and worn jeans, though it was kinda unconvincing without the Flow-bee action (anyone who doesn't know - she has REALLY long black hair). Her explanation was convincing enough, however, so we let her keep her clothes (sigh). Three invited non-OBSSE showed up dressed as the above vampire pizza boy, an alien and as a woman with a tail baby (she killed a Lemur and a poor plastic baby just to achieve this gross freak of nature - don't ask). Jan wrapped a plastic vine around his torso and claimed to be a crazy tree thing from that episode with the trees (yeah, that one). He said it so perfectly dead-pan I didn't have the heart to throw him out into the street. All others went with a XF tee.
(Side-note to Autumn, I need lessons on the threat follow-throughs.)
The next rule was the vague "Study your Scully quotes." Some did, some didn't - but all covered admirably. We had a Scully quote drinking game, where you had to complete the quote, name the ep or act it out (just like Scully). Get it wrong - drink. Get it right - tic tacs. It was rather impressive to witness the application of the completely trivial, yet entirely useful, Scully wisdom that all OBSSE'rs seem to possess. We rawk. I think Half-a-Brit won with something like 7 packs of tic-tacs. But I could be wrong... I was drinking about each time anyone else did (facilitating the game, since I knew all the answers) so it all got fuzzy after that bit.
By this time the cheese-alien had lost his innards and half his extremities, we were down to the third round o ritas, and the non-OBSSEr's were probably getting scared.
I should mention here our little Bay Area X-File. Apparently, Ann the Fan Dancer only exists as Ann when a gathering is of a number less than 7. Anything larger, and no matter how much she insists she will appear, she inevitably turns back into the oilien that she is and is sucked down the drain of her bathtub. We are not sure where she goes at this point or what she does in this form, but in a few weeks she reappears again. Usually her memory has been wiped and she tells us her car broke down or something as equally transparent. Never trust an oilien with such an important task as to bring the 'rita glasses (oh fer crisis). We are on to you and your oily ways, Miss Ann.
Next rule, no talking during the episode (pause for laughter, I'll wait). This was a suggestion by Naomi-love-child-Barr (who was with those Damn DDAMs), saying I just had to put my foot down way before the fact. It worked moderately well. No one danced nekkid in the cold... though Nascent came real close many many times. But don't worry, we had much entertainment during the airing. We decided to take up the suggestion to have a manly coin toss. It turned into a Scully is great, Doggett is manly coin toss. Considering that we mostly had pennies to deal with (this was a spur of the moment idea) - the whopping $6 collected was pretty kewl. It will of course be added to at any other gatherings. That Doggett/Kersh plane scene was a virtual blizzard of coinage. The other scene of many coins was the Scully pan up the torso to her so so sad face in the mirror.
Another side note: Bay Area types can't aim worth a damn (and yes, I mean me too). Two weeks after the party, I am still picking up errant pennies off my living room floor.
M O N T R E A L
I guess we can't really call it a party per se. But the Montréal Chapter (Tina, Isabelle, Eve and myself) gathered hours before the viewing of Within to prepare and eat an OBSSE theme dinner: cheese fondue! As for the show itself, we, among other things: admired, Scully, the Charc, Gillian's acting prowess; cringed at Scully sniffing her lost man's clothes (we felt it was rather corny); cheered when Scully "offered" Doggett a cup of water; tried to figure out His Manliness. Overall, we had ourselves a lovely, quiet, Premiere evening. The only downside to this event was the notable absence of Twee who was home preparing for an exam the next morning. I tell you, those young ones have no sense of priorities. -- Gen
Imagine my surprise when Leah snuck into my cell with a laptop that was labeled "Santa CHarc ONLY! No peeking!" Since we were both pretty sure that No Peeking meant everyone but us, we peeked. This is what we found:
(By the way, in case you're laying bets, Leah and I were both on the Nice 'N Naughty list)
Dana Scully: Santa has been tempted to put Scully on the Naughty list for refusing to buy clothes that fit, but Santa's decided to be forgiving this year. Scully's going to be expecting some weight gain in the coming months, and Santa knows how important it is to keep that bowl-full of jelly belly well-dressed. Therefore, Santa is bringing Scully a nice, roomy pair of overalls and a comfy pair of sneakers. And just in case Scully needs that "I'm in charge even though I'm nine months pregnant and could go any second, so don't mess with me because my hormones are out of whack and I haven't seen my baby's daddy since he was abducted by aliens and put in an iron diaper and no I haven't been on Springer about this, now do what I say!" air about her, Santa's including a brand new white Tank Top of Authority with plenty of extra stretchy lycra.
Fox Mulder: Mulder used to be Santa CHarc's favorite. He always wore those handsome suits paired with a billowy trenchcoat. He looked hot. Dapper, even. But now...Santa CHarc has been after Mulder for years to get rid of that damn gray t-shirt and go back to the stylish Armani suits that the elves have so lovingly picked out. Not only has Mulder not listened, he's also been telling his morphing alien friends to wear them as well. Santa liked the t-shirt at first, but he's pretty freaking tired of looking at it every single time he checks to see if Mulder's been naughty or nice. Santa's used up all his forgiveness on Scully, so this year Mulder will be getting a lump of coal. Which will be doused in lighter fluid, lit, and dropped on top of that t-shirt. If Mulder doesn't cut it out, next year Santa will burn ALL his clothes and leave him with just the red Speedo.
Walter Skinner: Santa CHarc just doesn't know what to do about Skinner. On the one hand, he's almost always impeccably dressed. On the other hand, Santa remembers those ugly white briefs and that buttercup yellow shirt. This year, Santa's going to leave an assortment of silk boxers and an assortment of non-pastel shirts under Skinner's tree. Santa thinks Skinner might be able to relax a bit more if his drawers aren't so tight. And since Skinner's been such a good boy (for the most part), Santa's also going to leave Lens and Reade to help with any needed fittings.
John Doggett: Santa likes John Doggett, he really does, but thinks Doggett is just a wee bit boring. Santa is therefore leaving Doggett a pair of leather pants and a two hour shopping spree guided by Will and Grace's Jack McFarland and Karen Walker. Remember, honey, polka dots are the devil's work. Now shake your bon-bon on down to Barneys and get spending.
Alex Krycek: Santa will give Krycek anything, ANYTHING, even if it has to be reindeer hide, if Krycek will just come back. Santa is tired of listening to Mrs. Claus talk about how sexy Krycek is and when will she get to see him in all his plastic-armed glory again.
Alvin Kersh: Santa CHarc doesn't like Kersh. In fact, he hates Kersh with a passion he usually reserves for sugar-free carob brownies. And despite Kersh's manly man conversation with Doggett in the premiere, Santa knows that Kersh does NOT need that XXL pair of pants for "breathing room." Therefore, this year Kersh is getting all of his underwear accidentally dyed pink in the wash. Maybe it'll be harder for him to get on Scully's case when he's wearing Malibu Barbie briefs.
The Lone Gunmen: Santa CHarc is tired of these three hacking into his flight plans and e-mailing Little Timmy and Little Susie arrival times and reindeer trap construction blueprints. This year, Santa's revoking their line of credit at "Top Secret Spy Guy Boutique and Black Funky Poachwear" and is subscribing them to the J. Crew Catalog. Santa thinks Frohike would look great in a madras plaid shirt and cargo pants. Don't forget the sandals, boys.