Comic Book Geekery…

…in case you’re into that sort of thing.

I’ve been writing this one for a while but finally finished it last night. Enjoy…or don’t. Whatever.

I did not grow up reading comic books. But like anything else, if you are a big enough research nerd, it won’t take you long to become a self-proclaimed expert, or at least know enough to not completely embarrass yourself when in the company of the truly knowledgeable…at least about the subject in question. You’ll still have plenty of opportunities to embarrass yourself with your abhorrent behavior….if you’re anything at all like me. How I became a comic book nerd was kind of a roundabout journey.

When I was little I loved books. I always knew that there was this deeply important and incredibly powerful thing inside all books. Knowledge. Whether I was sneaking my Mom’s copies of “Lace” or “The Cider House Rules” off her bookshelf or leafing through the children’s books at my Grandmother’s house I felt as though what I were really doing was searching for that ONE really and truly astonishing something, that fact or artifact that no one else knew about or that the knowledge of had long since been forgotten. In my time flipping through books, pouring over pages, looking for things, information, stories, I also grew to love the pictures.

I think I may have been an artist long before I was a writer. I took my drawing pads and pens with me EVERYWHERE! I held onto books that were “too young for me” for far too long because I could not let go of the artwork contained in them. There was one book by Ruth Heller called “A Cache of Jewels” that I pored over long after I had memorized the information within.

ruth heller

The illustrations were so precise, so jewel-bright, so beautifully realistic, but also completely whimsical. I remember trying to recreate this cover image on many occasions with my unsure, eight-year-old, artist’s hands. It was, of course, never quite right, but I never stopped trying.

Like most 8 and 9 year old girls who loved to draw and loved to draw characters, another huge inspiration was Walt Disney or at least the Disney movies that were being released at that time. I would spend countless hours drawing and redrawing Ariel and Belle until I got them to look EXACTLY like the images I saw on the screen. You see kids, the internet did not exist back then, at least not for civilians, and we had to make our own fun. When I wasn’t drawing a character study of Belle from a wobbly and striated paused VHS on the TV screen I was probably playing outside with a stick or something. They were dark times.

Comics and the incredible art contained within, started to become more relevant once I started working in a bookstore. And when I wasn’t working in a bookstore I was literally across town, hanging out in a different bookstore. This shop was much cooler than the one where I worked and had the owner been able to hire someone I totally would have worked there instead. Something Wicked was the name of the shop and it focused mostly on Science Fiction and Mysteries. The owner, Jon, and I became friends and still are to this day. Because his shop was Science Fiction-y he would occasionally go to Cons. Jon knew of my fondness for pinup art, Olivia art, and drawings of beautiful if scantily clad females and from one Con he brought me back a book of Joseph Michael Linsner’s “Cry for Dawn”.

dreams of dawn

This is not the book. I could not find a picture of the book on the internet and while I totally still have the actual book it is more than likely buried in a box somewhere in my office that I still haven’t unpacked from moving back in October because I am a terrible person.

It was lovely! It was page after page of this wonderful, powerful, and uniquely sexy character and I was hopelessly in love!

From there I got into Jim Lee for obvious reasons….reason #1, however, is that he’s a total BADASS!

 

wolverine

And then there were the other artists like Robert McGinnis who did book covers (and so much more) for cheesy pulp novels in the 50s, 60s and 70s….

…that led me to find other comic artists like Jim Silke who were constantly straddling that line between storyteller and pornographer.

And yes, Jim Silke is a HUGE fan of Bettie Page!

And his work, strangely enough led to my falling in love with Al Williamson and his rich, elaborate, story-boarded scenes from “Flash Gordon”.

Then there were the connections made randomly, organically, like my love of Ralph Steadman spurring my affection for Frank Miller (at least his artwork because the dude is an ACTUAL hot fucking mess in real life). I don’t think one can critically speak of Frank Miller without mentioning Steadman. It would be remiss.

frank miller for real do

batman

All in all it was my love of pictures, of art, of strong, beautiful women that led me to comics. They are at the heart of who I am in that regard. And it was Jack Kirby’s faces, that I found so fascinatingly simple and jarringly emotive, that found me, falling in love with Marvel comics. For a long while, when asked to pick a side, which one occasionally is asked when frequently in the company of comic book nerds, I would proudly declare myself a “Marvel Girl”. And since we are looking at pretty pictures here’s some of my favorite Jack Kirby characters and some other random Marvel highlights.

Above is all Kirby (or inked over Kirby’s sketches). His Odin blows my Goddamn mind!

Other Marvel stuff and in case you couldn’t tell I am moderately obsessed with Hellcat right now! I also want Thor to cup my ass just like that….Dazzler is one lucky gal! Also, also….WENDIGO!

Marvel is a universe crafted at the hands of two brilliant men with unfathomable minds and luminous artistry and it is responsible for launching some of the most brilliant artistic careers of the Silver Age of comics; Buscema, Steranko, Romita (or as I like to call them the Three Juan-itos…because all three of them are named John) to name just a few. Marvel was and is awesome in every sense of the word…but they were always missing one thing….The Bat.

Detective_Comics_27

Bob Kane’s Batman first appeared in Detective comics (later DC) #27

The Batman, the Caped Crusader, Bats, the World’s Greatest Detective, the Dark Knight, Bruce Wayne; whatever you called him, Batman was and remains an incurable badass (except maybe when George Clooney played him, but that wasn’t really Clooney’s fault. I mostly blame Joel Schumacher for putting nipples on the Batsuit. Way to go, Joel! That’s what Batman had been missing all those years…nipples). Batman was a symbol that any man (who was a billionaire with infinite resources) who was tired of corruption, of looking the other way, of the status quo, could rise up and become someone else….something else (and is that sounds familiar to you it’s supposed and I am totally getting there) in order to protect the things and people he holds dear. And this became the template off of which so many other DC characters were built.

I would be a liar if I said that it was not the more recent additions to popular culture that has fueled my enthusiasm for DC’s universe and characters but certainly they were not the only things….I do have a five year old boy after all and little boys love Batman. They just do. They cannot help it. I think it’s in their blood, woven into their biology by 70 years worth of human evolution.

I wanted to touch briefly on the Christopher Nolan “Dark Knight” movies as “the thing that made Batman cool again” after a decade or so of cinematic embarrassments. “Batman Begins”, being the first installment in the Dark Knight Trilogy, was a re-creation of the character for a modern age; gritty, complex, stoic, strong, even romantic at times. Christian Bale brought to Batman a depth that he had previously lacked outside the comic books and he brought it to a national audience and national acclaim. You cannot talk about the Dark Knight Trilogy without at least mentioning the haunting and even disturbing portrayal of Batman’s longtime nemesis, The Joker by a doomed Heath Ledger. The impact of that performance and what it has done to and for the evolution of that character is astounding in its depth. I feel like it raised the bar for the portrayal of villains in general.

I know that everyone is climbing the goddamn walls right now and shouting that the DC conversation HAS TO begin with Superman and to you I would say, this is my blog and I do what I want! So there! You wanna talk about Superman get your own blog….although we are going to talk about Superman in so much that he is kind of an outlier as far as the major heroes go in the DC universe.

Superman is an alien (albeit an alien whose life basically mirrors the biblical story of Moses). And while he has an interesting life story and abilities he is not a man…he is a super man. I personally feel that the evolution of Superman as a character and the trajectory of his life story are much more lackluster than a lot of the other characters in the DC universe (and I will admit that I have not seen “Man of Steel” so sue me, okay). But it is continually argued (and not incorrectly, even in my opinion) that Superman is one of the greatest, if not THE greatest, comic book superheroes in history. He is certainly the most iconic. But, in my humble (lol) opinion he’s also one of the most boring. Superman is unerring in his goodness. What makes modern takes on characters like Batman and Green Arrow so compelling is that they constantly struggle between doing the RIGHT THING and doing what feels right at the time (although no one ever said that vigilante justice was an easy business to be in). Superman never falters…because he’s fucking SUPERMAN! Although, in the very first Superman stories told by his creators Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster it is said that Superman was “…rough and aggressive. The character often attacks and terrorizes wife beaters, profiteers, lynch mobs, and gangsters in a rough manner and with a looser moral code than audiences today might be used to”. I say we need a little more of the Old School Superman. You can definitely picture Old School Superman hanging out with Oliver Queen, drinking vodka stolen from the Bratva and giving each other homemade tattoos (you totally thought I was gonna say blowjobs, didn’t you, you sick fuck….and now you’re picturing it….it’s kind of hot, huh).

Speaking of Oliver Queen, I’m just gonna leave this here……

amell ladder

I could watch that ALL DAY!

If it weren’t for Stephen Amell’s abs  I would probably not be as enthusiastic about the DC Universe as I am today. I think I was home sick one day and I started watching “Arrow” on the CW shortly after it came out with its first season. I may have been there, initially, because of Stephen Amell’s body…and eyes…and ass (yes, I am aware that too is a body part but I think it bears repeating)…his soft gravelly voice….his ferocity…his workout routine, but I stayed for interesting character development, largely believable motivations and kick ass fights with bows and arrows because, DUH! “Arrow” definitely sent me down the “looking things up rabbit hole” and got me excited about the larger DC Universe in general.

Along came Barry Allen and with him came a particle accelerator, which promptly exploded, making all kinds of crazy things happen! Like turning a normal dude into the “fastest man alive”! The CW’s “The Flash” was (finally) released on Netflix in October of 2015 and it was ripe for the binge watching. And it was binge watched, rapidly and with extreme prejudice….I actually don’t even know what that means, it just sounded cool. But our hasty binge watching has left us twiddling our thumbs waiting for the Netflix release of season two, which, of course, is already playing on TV’s CW Network

There are so many cool and interesting characters and stories in DC Comics, Aquaman not withstanding (although, as was recently pointed out to me by my fiance’s 6 year old nephew, he can talk to sharks and that’s pretty damn cool), that it’s kind of like this former “Marvel Girl” gets to get into comics all over again…with a whole new (to me) UNIVERSE!  And I cannot wait to start digging deeper into the lives and people contained within!

My son and I read about Batman, the Justice League, Superman, Wonder Woman et al. nearly every night. We watch Batman and Justice League cartoons together (because cartoons are art too, goddamnit, and even though we don’t own a TV and I once used to own a bookstore I am not prepared to be one of “those” people who look down their nose at everything that has been touched by pop culture, those people who are like, “I don’t know what “Dr. Who” is because we don’t have a television, we just sit around listening to symphonies, reading books, sipping port and judging people.”) so my interest and knowledge are constantly being bolstered. Even if “Batman v. Superman” sucks, and sadly, I have heard nothing up to this point that would have me believe that it doesn’t, I am still going to love it because it’s mine. Comic book characters feel like friends. They’re these people we all know or at least all us nerds and frankly I cannot think of a better “we” to be a part of. The characters don’t always do the right things but it kind of makes us love them even a little more. We feel as though the choices they make have an impact and not just on their lives but our lives because their effects will be felt…across their Universe.

I am super tired from staying up too late last night to finish season 2 of “Daredevil” which just came out last week. I have no shame regarding this matter nor do I think it is owed. “Daredevil” kicks fucking ass and I will totally be writing a blog about how much it does that very soon but right now I need to get to bed. XOXO

And here’s a ton more pretty pictures to look at featuring the artists and characters of the DC Universe, highlighting the work of Gil Kane, Carmine Infantino, Neal Adams, George Perez, Frank Miller and many others!

 

 

 

 

 

The Trump Blog All 5 of You Have Been Waiting For

So there’s this election coming up and while in my real life I am anything but A-political when I am here, sitting in my awesome blogging throne* from which I do all my totally awesome blogging I tend to keep politics as an aside although I am relatively certain that most people can guess which way I lean. It’s not that I don’t have strong opinions or even that I have nothing to say on the political matters that are important to me, it’s just that I prefer that if people are going to hate me, it be for good reasons like I got drunk and pooped on your front porch and then videotaped your stepping in it the next morning when you left the house….hypothetically, or because I called you cuntrag in front of your small child because you cut in line at the zoo, or I ate the last of the Cocoa Krispies and left the empty box in the cupboard so that you thought there were actually Cocoa Krispies left so you totally got your hopes up for some delicious Cocoa Krispies but when you felt how light the box was your hopes, while diminished, were not completely crushed until you upended the box over your bowl and were met with only a feeble sprinkling of Cocoa Krispy dust. Frankly I cannot think of better reason to hate someone than that last one. Except maybe if they were a psychotic, racist, sexist, violent, misogynistic, bloated, homophobic, orange, narcissistic, delusion, mono-maniacal, smarmy, creepy, lying, repugnant, xenophobic, greasy, vomit-swelling, little fuckstain of a shriveled up oompa loompa, that might also be a good reason to hate someone. But, alas, hate only breeds more hate, just like anything else that powerful…like love, for instance. So let’s maybe not talk about why we “hate” that oompa loompa and talk about why he’s such an incapable, dangerous, and downright idiotic choice for a leader.

Of course I’m talking about Donald Trump and just like John Oliver said, I am kind of loathe to even write out his name because I am positive he has a tiny orgasm every time it is written…..or spoken….or read, not even aloud, just in your head, but he still knows because he once made a wish with a genie from a magic lamp and now he can sense it whenever bile rises in someone’s throat after simply hearing his name or seeing his picture.

 

oface

It seems like an oddly impractical thing to wish for if you ask me, but let’s be honest people, we are not dealing with a Rhodes Scholar here. Sometimes, after the Donald feels the need to reassure the American public that there are “no problems” with his dick (I find this highly doubtful coming from a man who repeatedly and in earnest talked about wanting to bang his own daughter), when I am done throwing up, I try to figure out if this is actually happening, like for real, actually happening. It’s kind of like watching Trapped in the ClosetR. Kelly’s much beloved/maligned “hip hopera” that is still puzzling stoned people everywhere as to whether or not its creator was entirely serious in the making of what the writer, producer, director and actor of the “films” would call his masterwork.

r-kellys-trapped-in-the-closet.jpg

Have I mentioned that in R. Kelly’s Trapped in the Closet he is legit trapped in a literal closet?

There is simply no way to watch Trapped in the Closet and not think to yourself, “NO FUCKING WAY THEY ARE TAKING THIS SHIT SERIOUSLY!” And that sentiment is pretty much echoed whenever I hear about the next, ridiculous, offensive, stupid and/or (usually and) appalling thing the Trump campaign has done. I can just imagine the Donald sitting around the frat house with his other white, be-polo-ed frat buddies (only because that’s where I assume he lives), high-fiving one another, drinking their way through case after case of unsold Trump brand vodka (which was absolutely a thing….just not a thing anyone wanted), and trying to think of the next absurd thing that Trump is going to say or do that will inevitably get him more headlines, more recognition and possibly, more votes.

“Dude! You know what you should totally do tomorrow, bro? You should totally talk about murdering innocent women and children. Betcha no one will call you out on it!” *shouts of bro-ly agreement* *high fives all around*

“BRO! Then you should totally talk about how big your dick is at the debates! That would totally fuckin’ crush it!” *smashes empty beer can into forehead, swigs Trump brand vodka, casually rapes coed while high-fiving his bros, posts it all the Twitter*

“Fuck yeah! You should threaten to walk out onto 5th Avenue in downtown NYC and shoot someone! Fuckin’ EPIC, Bro!” *Tweets about how he’s gonna retweet the tweet that Trump will tweet after he is forced to go on Twitter and defend his saying that he could shoot someone and no one would care…oddly enough, no one cares*

The Trump candidacy has been the most collectively head-scratching theater that the American public has ever seen. I mean this guy has Andy Kaufman beat by a country mile…unless he’s actually serious….OH GOD! You don’t think he’s actually serious about this, do you? I mean, if he is actually serious about his campaign, which, of course, is a possibility, he might be some kind of publicity savant and he genuinely and truly thinks that the hardest part of being President of the United States is getting elected….while simultaneously proving himself wrong at every turn! GENIUS!

But in reality I don’t think Trump has given much, if any, thought to what would happen after getting elected. I honestly don’t think he thinks things out much at all; what he’s going to say, how he’s going to “run a business (into the ground?)”, how or where his money is spent, what bullshit thing/building/failed casino/piece of steak he puts his name on, or to whom he might be liable if elected. I think the most dangerous thing about Trump is that Trump only cares about Trump. He is not interested in the welfare of the American People at all. The only reason he is even running for President is because it was the biggest popularity contest he could get himself into and he NEEDS validation, adulation and attention like normal, non-psychotic, non-narcissistic people need air or water. And let me tell you one thing, the leaders that are only in it for themselves and to further their personal agendas, their own need for power, worship, veneration, awe, devotion, glorification, praise, flattery, blandishments…those are the men (and I say “men” because I fucking mean MEN) who are truly dangerous because at the end of the day they are only beholden to their own emptiness at NOT having those things. And like a toddler, he will resort to any means necessary to get them. Unlike a toddler instead of throwing a tantrum, the leader of the free world can just decide to send a nuclear missile strike to….*throws dart at globe, comes up with country I cannot pronounce, picks France instead because I totally bet the Donald hates France for no reason at all*….FRANCE!

Trump may or may not be a psychopath (my money is on the former) but he is definitely dangerous. He is definitely not a leader. I wouldn’t let Trump lead a goddamn girl scout troop…mostly because he would try to sleep with all the girls and when they refused he would call them “cows” or “lesbians” and threaten to sue them and then he would rename all the cookies “Trump-mints” and “Trump-moas” and “Trumpalongs” or “Shortbread Tre-ump-foils” and then he would convince the girls that are just commodities and that if they wanted to achieve anything in life they’d better do it in a 24 karat gold-flake Trump brand string bikini while stripping in Atlantic City because that is the only way those stupid cows are going to find a rich husband, but it may already be too late for Trisha because she’s going to be 14 in a month an a half and the only thing you little bitches really have to offer a “successful” man is your youth and beauty. And don’t you forget it….MAKE ‘MERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Also, globe darts is the best sport I have ever just invented! XOXO

*”blogging throne” may or may not refer to any chair, bed, toilet, yurt, park bench (where I was totally NOT sleeping), carpet, patch of mostly dry grass, blankie, tuffet or really any flat surface available for sitting within reach of the writer.

P.S. I decided that when I run for president (because that is what wildly under-qualified lunatics are doing these days) my campaign slogan will be “Make America Pie Again” because who doesn’t love pie?!!!! BOOM! That’s at least 26 delegates right there! Also, I am suddenly feeling the need to make “Biblio Diva for President” T-shirts and bumperstickers. It’s gonna be a long night. XOXO yet again!

Just Filling the void

This is not a real post.

I totally keep thinking of awesome things about which to write but I am usually in the shower or driving or lying in bed when I should be sleeping and nowhere near a computer when these nuggets of brilliance seep up to the surface. I think I need to get one of those chalk boards that I where around my neck like Anthony Hopkins in “Legends of the Fall” after he has his stroke and can’t talk anymore.

hopkins

Dude! He also has a pipe on a string around his neck. This idea could revolutionize EVERYTHING!

 

Except for that brings up the whole issue of having to learn to write upside down and frankly, I am totally done learning new skills.

happy hopkins

If you did not cry during this scene you obviously have no soul….or no tear ducts which is a totally real thing!

Or, and I am just spit-balling here, in lieu of the bulky chest chalkboard (chestboard?) I could carry around a note pad. OOOOH! Or one of those little hand-held tape recorders (I know all the millennials are just shaking their heads at me and saying to themselves in voices full of thinly veiled pity and condescension “Yeah, there’s an app for that on your smart phone.” And to them I say “You are talking to a woman with a typewriter collection who grew up idolizing Hunter S. Thompson and for whom outmoded and anachronistic means of communication will never be anything short of wildly romantic and awesome…so suck it!”). C’mon, you can’t tell me you’ve never thought about having one of those pocket tape recorders wherein you store all your sagacious, enlightened, little tidbits of brilliance that pop into your head from time to time. I think the bummer part of that whole process would be sitting down at your desk at the end of the day or, even worse, the end of the week, to record all your noteworthy opining and unprecedented epiphanies and all you have is a note to buy more grapefruits and then two hours of continuous recording of the noises that occur inside your purse. GENIUS! Except for not really.

You know what WOULD be genius? If you had the idea to combine a few great things into one AMAZING like hash browns and masturbation and watching  Daredevil into….I don’t know, but those the the “few great things” I came up with on the fly and, frankly, that seems like a pretty damn solid list to me.

I totally forgot where I was going with this, but I think that kind of drives the point home about my needing a chestboard or at the very least a tape recorder and that’s good enough for me. I think I will quit while I am ahead-ish or at least ish.

XOXO

Let’s Be Friends*!

*no seriously!

So (drink) (and someday I will repost all the rules to the Biblio Diva drinking game so that those of you who are new to us, I’m talking to YOU Canadians, can play along at home because I have faith in you and your livers and their ability to withstand anything because they have already withstood decades worth of Tim Horton’s coffee, Molson, Justin Beiber and Nickleback) (Also, Dear Canadians, please stop telling your talentless musicians where the US border is, because we REALLY don’t need another Avril Lavigne or Celine Dion or Alanis Morisette. We already have a Kanye to deal with and he’s kind of a handful. Just point them in the other direction and they will all end up in the North Pole. Although if 3 Inches of Blood or Death From Above 1979 or DOA are asking you can give them directions…and I know you will because you are Canadian and, by nature, very polite and helpful. I feel like this is the most peaceful and humane solution for everyone) (and at this point I should just start over because even I have lost track of what’s going on with all these parentheses).

Starting over….So (you still have to drink), I super have NO friends, and I know what you’re thinking; “How is that possible?” you shriek, outraged. “You are so charming and erudite and generous and beautiful and intelligent and you know how to get free booze, like, anywhere you go and you are great at outrunning the police! Those are all tremendously attractive qualities in a human being!” except I can totally hear that you are saying it sarcastically, even if it is all true, so it kind of loses some impact…although the sentiment is appreciated even if you could not get through the delivery without laughing.

The fact is that when you COMPLETELY dismantle your life or it just falls apart in one way or another, whether by choice or by happenstance, it can make it difficult to keep people around. Not everyone is going to understand what’s going on, also, not everyone is going to care. It was easy for me at first to blame my lack of a social life on closing my bookstore or having to move far away from Renton, which was the admitted center of most of my social interactions, or never having any money (because unemployment often results in being poor). But I think it runs deeper than that. I think some people were really uncomfortable with the choices I made and it was easier for them to just fade away than to try to understand why I was making them. Now admittedly, whenever my life goes through sweeping changes it always seems to be more of a scorched earth kind of scenario than I ever intend when starting out. My chronic misbehavior is probably to blame for my instability but the thing is, I’ve always been this way. Y’all knew that when you first came along for the ride! But that’s the thing about people like me; people gravitate towards us because we are fun, irreverent, risky, a little scary, a lot crazy….and we know how to get free booze, like anywhere. We are very good at making friends but not very good at convincing them to stay.

That being said I am currently accepting applications for besties right now (I am sort of imagining people just losing their shit like when bitches find out that the episode of Oprah they are attending the taping of is the ‘favorite things’ episode)! And it’s crunch time, motherfuckers! I am getting married in 4 months (HOLY SHIT! FOUR FUCKING MONTHS!) and I need someone to stand up there with me and pretend to care about my getting married because, Goddamnit, I am already down one person who was supposed to walk me down the aisle. So, if you’re interested in being my Maid of (questionable) Honor read on.

  • You get to wear whatever you want. Within reason. No white. No blue seersucker because that’s what I’ll be wearing. No pants, it’s a wedding for godsakes! No florals, no feather boas, no tiaras, no fishnets (unless they’re like nude, then I support that move), no latex, no denim, NO corduroy, none of that 1990’s flouncy crushed velvet bullshit, in fact you can’t even come if you’re gonna wear that shit, I am already ashamed of knowing you.
  • You will literally be the only person up there with me so it’s impossible for you to be the “fat bridesmaid” because you will be the ONLY bridesmaid! Plus, I am pretty fat so there’s even a chance that you will be the “skinny bridesmaid”!
  • I won’t make you throw me any ridiculous parties because I have been to enough wedding showers to know that no one has any fun at them because who gives a fat shit about your monogrammed bath towels or your stupid fucking china pattern…let’s go get wasted and rip off a limousine! (It’s really a wonder that I have a dearth of compatible humans in my life…)
  • You must be female (sorry Sojin). While I am totally always in search of my new gay best friend (ISOGBF) I feel like my maid of honor should be an actual maid….not like a housekeeper….although if you are, that would certainly not rule you out….I am fine with whatever you do for a living…I am NO classist! I guess if you euthanized baby otters or worked on the Trump campaign for a living that might sour our potential relationship just a little.
  • Must tolerate or better yet celebrate excessive cussing, excessive drinking, excessive sarcasm, excessive laughing at my own jokes, excessive inappropriate exposure of my bare ass in public, excessive always being the person in the bar who is saying something REALLY offensive when the music dies down, excessive air concertina, excessive insistence that you “haven’t lived until you have woken up with vomit in your ears”, excessive talking of and enthusiasm for nearly all things related to Marvel or DC comics (this one’s really important), excessive squealing at pictures of baby miniature ponies,  excessive belief in Bigfoot, excessive excesses, unicorns, and children because I have one of those and it’s probably best that you learn to like him…or I will cut you.
  • Must be Catholic….not because I am Catholic or even religious but I figure if you’re Catholic you might have at least a fighting chance at keeping up with me where alcoholism is concerned. I will also consider Godless heathens of all stripes and lapsed Mormons because you guys totally kick ass to drink with!
  • You totally don’t have to make a toast or write a speech because you will probably have nothing to say about me because we will have just met and your cover will totally be blown if you get up there and start talking about what a good person I am because EVERYONE knows that’s not true.
  • I won’t make you pose for cheesy “bridesmaid” photos with your panties exposed because apparently that’s a thing. As a matter of fact I won’t make you pose for any photos, not because I don’t want pictures of you and our beautiful (and completely manufactured) friendship but because I am too poor to hire a photographer.
  • You must be my Bartlett. That is to say it is required that you will carry my flask and it will be your job to know and even anticipate when the dispensation of said flask is required.
  • Must be awesome at providing cover for someone who frequently feels the need to urinate in public, also, how are your holding-back-hair skills?
  • Must protect my secret identities.
  • Must already be able fit into the sidekick costume of your now deceased predecessor.

If this sounds like you, please submit your application to become best friends and eventual Maid of (dis)Honor in the comment section. And just so you know how serious I am about this, this whole post was supposed to be how I wanted to throw a Funko party where we all order a bunch of those blank Funko Pop characters and then decorate them, presumably while drinking wine and chatting and, with any luck, having a nice time.

Blank-Female-e-Male-DIY-Pop-Vinyl-Figure-01

So when I couldn’t think of anyone to invite (that might actually show up) to my imaginary Funko party that I may or may not have I started to get a little freaked out. That’s when I realized I have NO friends. If I can’t even get people to come decorate vinyl dolls with me even when I offer them free booze how can I expect anyone to want to be my Maid of Honor? How can I even consider asking someone at this point without feeling like a complete ass? The answer is I can’t….and I do. I am going to have to stand up there alone and I am going to have to be okay with it.

Maybe someday I will learn how to hang onto to people. Maybe someday I will learn how to be the kind of person worth hanging onto. For now….I hope I made you laugh. XOXO

Also, wouldn’t a Funko decorating party be super fun?! I would totally go to that even if I were (not a typo) the one throwing it!