The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Perriverse

It finally occured to me, after three-some years, that the Perriverse is big and sprawling and, well, weird enough, that some explanations are probably in order. Some of you have stumbled into the Perriverse knowing me and, therefore, knowing full well just what you're getting into. Others of you are true innocents, having stumbled into strangeness far beyond your expectations. g Actually, I kind of planned it that way. Well, I would have, if any planning had actually been involved.

Anyway, here's some of the stories behind the Perriverse, and some of the reasons my own little parallel universes were created. Some of them are meaningful, some are odd, some are just funny.... And no, I'm not actually a slave to my hormones, no matter what it sounds like!

In the Beginning...

You know, I used to think I was weird. Then I got online and discovered that... well, yeah, I am weird, but in my particular circles, weird is the norm. Two parents, one brother, and a cat named Gambit, a.k.a the Master of Disaster, a.k.a. Psycho-Kitty akak Hellspawn Demon Cat.... Welcome to my life. My dad, by the way, loudly claims credit for making me the strange and bizarre person I am today -- rightly so, since he's the one who gave me Heinlein to read, introduced me to Han Solo and Indiana Jones at an impressionable age, and is completely to blame for my Michael Biehn obsession (The Terminator, again at a impressionable age. Dad does, however, deny all responsibility for the Michael Dudikoff fixation). I have an extremely tolerant mother, thank god. < g >

Oh, I hate writing bios. I could make up backgrounds that are so much more interesting..... Born on an Army base in Missouri, moved to Denver at age three, proceeded to move from various places in Denver to various places in Texas until I finally managed to graduate from high school at the ripe old age of 17. For reasons known only to whichever Mystical Entity looks after aspiring (and stupid) writers, I wound up heading to Los Angeles by my lonesome to go to the University of Southern California. And that's where the fun stuff started.

See, I thought I wanted to be a reporter. I discovered I was wrong, but not until I was about to graduate with a journalism degree. My timing sucks. But, when I wanted to be a reporter, I joined the staff of the Daily Trojan, met my buds Abby Albrecht and David Thun, and then really got into trouble when two of my other buds (George Stankow insists on taking full blame, and credits Travis Smith only with the occasional assistance; on his head be it) introduced me to the Internet. And the universe trembled....

I found myself on two mailing lists, HIGHLA-L and LOISCLA -- discussion groups for Highlander (my dad's fault again, he got me watching it) and Lois and Clark respectively. I was introduced to the concept of fanfiction (which I'd been writing most of my life without realizing that yeah, other people did it, too), to conventions, and to IRC. Through IRC and the Fans of Lois and Clark (FoLCs), I met Diane Levitan -- my best bud in the world, who at the time was attending Harvard, way the hell on the other side of the country -- and -- God help me -- Tara O'Shea, who was List Mom of LOISCLA at the time.

LOISCLA, by the way, is how I got my nickname. I was city editor of the Daily Trojan at the time, and liked to spend a lot of time on my e-mail at the office, complaining about being at the office. Someone (Odette? Andrea?) began teasing me by calling me Ms. White (after Daily Planet editor Perry White). The joke continued and evolved until I started being known as Perri. And have been ever since. Around the same time, I also completed my very first fanfic (for Highlander, and my first completed story, actually), Blind Faith and got my first writing egoboo, and the characters inside my head haven't shut up since.

Diane was the one who coined the term 'Perriverse', as she beta-read the aforementioned reams of fanfic, since my universes tended to diverge from everyone else's. Then I met the Horsechicks, and everything really went to Hell!

Okay, so, everything started out as Tara's fault. Not only did we get to be friends in the FoLC fandom, but she was writing these cool stories in my other fandom, Highlander -- crossovers between the Highlander universe and this vampire thing about a guy named Nick. Being a curious little idiot, I made the mistake of inquiring just what the hell Forever Knight was, anyway. Then, I made the even bigger mistake of watching it. Instant addiction. Between the incredibly angst-ridden vampire homicide cop named Nick Knight, his friend, coronor Natalie Lambert, the evil LaCroix and all the other assorted drama and angst-o-rama, I was totally gone. I promptly joined FORKNI-L and FKFIC, the discussion lists, and found myself confronted with things like factions and wars (don't ask, just go read the explanation on the Knighties page). Before I quite knew what was going on, I was a Knightie and skulking around a virtual hotel room putting raisenettes in other people's clothes with fellow Knightie Amy Denton.

A few years and wars later, I wound up Knightie Co-Field Marshal Emeritus, Co-War Mistress Emeritus, a veteran of altogether too many conventions, and a NatPacker. More importantly, along the way I added bunches of other NatPackers to the ranks of my buds, along with various and assorted Mercenaries, and wound up sharing my brain with my Trill, Co-Field Marshal Emeritus, fellow NatPacker and bud, Catherine Boone. Which lead to some more stuff, but that comes later....

Long ago, my children, there were some female Trekkers who started forming their own small internet fan groups. There is some debate as to which was the first -- Tara claims it was the Siddig El Fadil Estrogen Brigade and she was there -- but it started a trend of e-mail lists called brigades. As another cult show, The X-Files came to everyone's attention, some more women ganged up to form the first chapter of the David Duchovny Estrogen Brigade, in appreciation of the male star. This group started out to discuss said star, and the show, but quickly became a combination of support group, drool-fest, and forum for the discussion of life, the universe, and everything.

Soon after I got onto LOISCLA, I became acquainted with Melinda Young, following numerous games of e-mail tag when I was stuck at the newspaper late at night and she was still up due to being on Hawaiian time. Knowing I was an X-phile at the time, Melinda approached me to join the second chapter of the DDEB, the DDEB2, when a few places opened. Having no idea what I was getting into, I said sure -- and acquired fifty of the most amazing sisters anyone could ever have. We have everything and nothing in common, we've gotten each other through crises and joy, death and birth, and I wouldn't trade 'em for the world. Even if I do lurk to the point of death.

About the same time that I discovered FK and joined the DDEB2, my roommate, Keisha Dadzie, brought home an addiction of her own -- X-Men: The Animated Series. Since we were living in a studio apartment, what one of us watched, the other one watched unless extreme measures were taken. I should have taken the extreme measures, damn it.

So, I was watching this cartoon, which was kind of fun. So I picked up a couple of the comics which were adapted from the cartoon. Then I figured, what the hell, and picked up some of the comics which were the (loose) basis for the cartoons. Then David pops up and informs me that, "Hey, I used to collect those, want to read my copies? Oh, and you need to read this LS about this guy named Deadpool." I devoured David's loans, but stuck to only a couple of titles; then the Age of Apocalypse started, and I started picking up all of the titles and, well.... Three years later, I owned about 1,600 comics, including a full run of almost all nine of the X-titles. I was Marvel's Marketing Dream come true. Four years later, I went cold turkey. g No more endless angst for me! Except, um, you know, fanfic. Mine and others....

Anyway, like I was saying, everything is Tara's fault, but this is her fault more directly than most things. I went to my first Forever Knight convention, Dead of Winter II, in Boston senior year and Tara was one of my roommates (along with Jennie Hayes and Amy Hull; we won't discuss the damn bodybag! Oh, and Valerie Meachum and Dawn Steele were there, too, along with various and assorted others). But, at any rate, Tara was on a tear. Not unusual, but this instance was particularly bad. Tara would (literally) grab passers-by by the throat and drag them into our room with the words, "You *have* to watch this brilliant show!" I must have seen the pilot movie four or five times that weekend, and it didn't really make an impression, outside of, 'Okay, yeah, the Mountie's cute'.

Then I got home, and started watching Due South as background, and, well, it's insidious. But things didn't get really bad until Tara came to visit for Spring Break and brought her tapes with her. I marathoned all of the series to that point over a fourteen-hour period, which produced a lot of drooling, a Drinking Game, an insane walk around South Central LA at 3am, and a confirmed Dueser (at least for the first two seasons. pout Miss Ray. Badly).

The Horsechicks of the Apocalypse

This one is so totally not my fault, and only indirectly Tara's. Actually, most of the blame goes to Catherine, who had somehow gotten involved with, well, the wrong crowd. That is to say, Mercenaries. They Who Will Do Damn Near Anything If They Are Paid Well Enough and Can Do It With Style. Lizbet Lewis, Christina 'Kiki' Kamnikar, and the Grand Poobah herself, Dianne DeSha, had corrupted my Trill.

Naturally, I cheerfully jumped in and got corrupted with her. g

But I'm getting ahead of myself, since it all really started back at Highlander. TPTB had introduced a character named Methos -- played by the amazing Peter Wingfield -- over whom most of the above women were (in varying degrees) ga-ga. In the episode 'Comes a Horseman', we were stunned and intrigued to discover that Methos had actually ridden as one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse -- Death incarnate, literally.

I have no idea whose brain made the next twisted leap, 'cause I wasn't there for it. The next thing I knew, Cath was snickering over the Horsechicks of the Apocalypse and asking me if I wanted in. Being certifiably insane, I said, 'Sure!', and became half of the War Trill -- Strategic War to Cath's Tactical War (I figure out what needs to be done, she figures out how to do it -- which is pretty much how we did things during the FK Wars). Lizbet became Plague, Dianne was Death, and Kiki became Chaos. (Can we say 'Typecasting'? I knew we could....)

Somehow, costumes were developed, plans were made, much evil giggling was done, and the Horsechicks descended on Syndi-Con '97. After some confusion (five dressing Horsechicks+one small hotel room=utter chaos), some wandering around trying to find out how to enter, and a lot of swearing by Yours Truly, after I (Good Idea) realized we should have a presentation and (Bad Idea) volunteered to come up with it (my precise words were, I believe, 'Let me do the talking', followed by increasingly frequent and vehement repetitions of 'F*ck me, f*ck me, f*ck me!' as the stupidity of this sank in), we won Best Presentation at the Masquerade, left the audience on the floor and the MC hiding, sent Nigel Bennett looking for cover, and made John Kapelos drool.

That sort of thing promotes bonding, and we've been together ever since. eg Our ranks have expanded to include Doom, Havoc, Madness, Confusion, and a Stable Girl, among others. Tremble in fear.

Okay, now this one is my fault; or, at least, I share the blame with Kiki. See, the (then) Five Horsechicks were rooming together at Syndi-Con, and Kiki had brought tapes of the series she and I were deeply addicted to at the time: Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. (My addiction, of course, is because Jill Kirby and Sharon had been burbling away on the NatPack list telling us "You have to watch this brilliant show", so I made the mistake of watching it. Argh. This is how they got me to watch Star Trek: Voyager for a while. You'd think I'd learn.) But anyway, Kiki and I had episodes going most of the time we were in the room, and they finally caught Dianne and Lizbet's attention. Saturday night, after Jim Byrnes's kick-ass concert, we were all collapsed in the room, Dianne and Lizbet's defenses were down, and we showed 'em 'I Robot, You Jane' and, after suitable explanations, 'Angel'. Lizbet went down about the time Angel walked on screen. Dianne was a harder sell, but sold nonetheless.

A few weeks later, Dianne and Lizbet made a big mistake of their own in the Horsechick e-mail loop: they volunteered to start a small, brigade-type loop for discussion of Buffy. Kiki and I refused to let them forget it, and The Sunnydale Slayers (a.k.a. SunS) were born. Then I volunteered to make a web page for us, Lizbet wouldn't let me forget it, and, well.... Fandom is a funny thing, ya know?

Many years ago, there was a pilot for a brand-new space-opera series, and I cheerfully settled down to watch it. Unfortunately, said pilot was boring as hell and I lost all interest in the series. Totally. Fast forward two years, when almost every friend I have is now exclaiming about how great this show is, and how I have to watch it, but, um... Well, there's a little bit of backstory. Well, actually, there's a lot of backstory. Instead of begging tapes, I made a deal with myself -- when Babylon 5 went into syndication, I would watch it from the beginning, just to see if it was really worth the hype. So, when TNT started airing the old episodes, I settled down to endure -- and saw Londo Mollari stretched out on a bar, utterly plastered, proclaiming, "But in purple, I'm stunning!". Oh dear. That was enough to get me to stick with the show until we started getting into serious plot, and by then, of course, there was no way out. JMS had claimed another victim.

Then, just to make things worse, I noticed that a certain security chief named Garibaldi had a poster of Daffy Duck over his bed, an utterly demented sense of humor, and a really angsty past (we won't comment on the outstanding butt; well, we will, but not in public), and to absolutely no one's shock (I am not that predictable, dammit! Well, okay, I am, but....), I fell in love. Well, serious lust, anyway; with me, it's a thin line. sigh There must just be something in my life that makes me susceptible to guys named Michael. So Kiki and I started ficcing and in due course corrupted the remaining Horsechicks (Dianne also fell victim to the Garibaldi side of the Force) to the point that we created our own version of the universe at Babylon 5.14159.

The others might eventually forgive us.

I'm mildly annoyed at this one... Well, I would be mildly annoyed if I wasn't aware that I richly deserved it. Remember how Kiki and I ganged up on Dianne and Lizbet about Buffy? Then made them start the mailing list? Then got them hooked on 'Babylon 5'? Well, Lizbet decided to return the favor. Enter Jeremy Piven, Kiki's living room and the Halloween episode. Expecting sweet and cutesy guy with wings, I got kinda short, kinda sexy and really obnoxious, with a mouth faster than mine and a sweetness factor that was hidden really well, but present nonetheless (don't tell Trevor, he'll get mad). Lizbet, who'd been trying to corrupt me for weeks, promptly sent a tape of the first six episodes (and an hour of Letterman where there was supposed to be the Buffy episode I needed -- coincidence or plot?). I marathoned three in a row and was close to begging for more. Unconditionally and hopelessly hooked, thank you very much, Lizbet!!! (And Kiki, don't think you're getting out of this unscathed!) Wow, I miss Cupid. ABC sucks a lot.

Okay, so I was innocently hanging around the apartment goofing off on a Friday night, when Kiki calls me to tell me to turn on the Sci-Fi Channel -- there's this cute guy I have got to see. Yeah, yeah, yeah, nothing better to do, turned it on. Ran into a space battle right out of what was initially the cheesiest space opera ever to hit the airwaves. Ten minutes later, said cute guy, John Crichton, took off his shirt (and everything else) and had my undivided attention. We laughed, we giggled, we made rude noises at the cheesy sets, we threw popcorn at the villain... we kept watching, we obsessed, we wrote fanfic, we started a tourist's guide.... sigh Then they started getting all serious on us and it became a serious addiction. It's all Kiki's fault again, I'm telling you; that's three I owe her!!!!

Let's see, who to blame for this one... Ooo, the vidders at MediaWest 1999, who were sufficiently obsessed as to make 10 or 11 vids to Stargate SG-1, which I had been ignoring more out of apathy than any kind of determination. Then, suddenly, there was Richard Dean Anderson, even sexier than in his MacGyver days (well, of course I was addicted to MacGyver; but O'Neill's hair is a vast improvement...), and I got mildly interested. Just mildly. Then Kiki sent tapes. < sigh > I really have to do something about her one of these days... after I finish the tapes of second season that Dawn sent me and the ones of third season that my dad happily taped for me. < eg > So sue me for lusting after RDA and Michael Shanks (another one of those Michaels....) and, most recetly, Corin Nemec; Jonas is just the cutest thing ever!!.

Oh, like I wasn't going to instantly fall in love with any show featuring the writing talents of Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt, and a solid hour of staring at David Boreanaz! I was not, however, going to start a web page. I wasn't. Uh-uh. I had quite enough to do with running SunS and the Center and TGUT... and then the pilot to Angel aired. And I already had that main graphic from when there was a possibility someone was going to pay me to run an Angel page. And Mary Beth Nielsen stuck her head up and volunteered to maintain if I designed. And then Lizbet stuck her head in... I love my buds. Really. :P

I resisted. I fought it. Mary Beth was gushing about it, my dad liked it and said so frequently, Diane Levitan was hooked.... I wasn't gonna do it. No time for non-genre dramas, particularly not on a network. Couldn't possibly be worth the time and trouble, nope. Then I was trapped in a new apartment with no phone for three weeks, and the TV was my only friend, during the same week that NBC ran a minimarathon, one episode every night. So I turned it on, just for the hell of it, and ran right into the pilot. Listening with half my attention from the kitchen, I suddenly heard someone yelling, "Your president is a geek!"; mildly intrigued, I wandered into the living room to check it out. I was rolling on the floor laughing by the time they got into the Cuban refugee situation and completely hooked by the end of the first act. Jossian-level dialogue, an incredible cast, and characters that I would like to hang with if they were real (nobody's cuter than Josh. I mean this. Even when he's an absolute jackass like he has been lately) -- what's not to love? Except for &^%^&** season finales involving people getting shot....

Another one I was avoiding, since The West Wing (along with Law & Order) was my self-imposed limit for drama, particularly network dramas. But, as usual, the rest of the Horsechicks were gaga over the show (Lizbet has a thing for Scott Cohen, who was recurring) and one night, out of terminal boredom, I stumbled onto an episode and started watching. It's the dialogue that gets you, seriously -- you can't ignore the rapid-fire exchanges even if you try, and that sucks you into the rest of it. Lorelai and Emily are the most disfunctional mother/daughter in the history of the universe, and they keep getting so close to patching it up... And then there's Luke. Yowsa. If Lorelai and her Issues don't jump that man soon, I'm going to shove her out of the way and do it myself!

Say it with me: everything is Kiki's fault. She nagged me to update the Guide just so that I could blame her for this -- she's starting to take some perverse pleasure in further complicating my life. See, I'm still bearing scars from what TPTB did to Lois & Clark lo these many years ago, absolutely screwing up a formerly brilliant show. So, I didn't want anything to do with the latest retread of the Superman legend. Kiki, on the other hand, is a slave to her hormones and Tom Welling pulled her in in spite of herself. So, more to find out what the hell Kiks was talking about than anything, I watched. Damn it. I'm pleased to say it wasn't Clark that sucked me in (although between him and the getting-hotter-with-age John Schneider, the Kent family is certainly, ah, well-represented in the hormone department) -- it's Michael Rosenbaum as the 21-year-old Lex Luthor. Complicated, not evil (yet), charming, and living proof that bald is sexy. Oh yes. Gimme Lex.

It's Joss -- do I really need to say more than that? I was designing a site for the show before it even aired, that's how obsessive I am. Fortunately, the show shows signs of living up to it's potential, even if it is a weird one. When they said space western, I didn't expect it to be quite that literal. But the characters are fun and interesting (I adore Kaylee and Simon, and Inara is a goddess), with that special Jossian twist to them, and I'm going to hang around pretty much as long as they'll let me.

I never thought I'd get this involved in Yet Another NBC Crime Drama, even if NBC is pretty much the only network I watch any more. And it's not the crime plots, trust me -- those are usually okay, sometimes downright silly. And Jordan's quest to find her mother's killer? I want to slap the woman into therapy so bad! What gets me is the shipper in my soul -- Garrett and Lily were written so beautifully first season (prior to the writers screwing it up badly), and that kept me involved long enough to get to Jordan and Woody. I love Woody -- all that sweetness and cuteness barely camoflaguing the really competant cop, and he's so stupid in love with Jordan that it's utterly adorable. Jerry O'Connell is an old favorite and he and Jill Hennessy have enough chemistry to keep me watchng indefinitely. Or until the writers screw it up.

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This page last updated October 4, 2002.