Dear Santa, THESE!!!

So, a few weeks back I was at Target, in the toy section because I have a 5 year old boy and taking him to Target to look at toys is basically what we do for entertainment and a lot cheaper than taking him to the zoo or Tutta Bella or the bookstore…until we start buying things, that is. Even then, we can usually get out of Target for under $30.00 (in toys anyway) and when’s the last time anyone could say that about the zoo. In any case I was wandering the toy aisles when I stopped at an end-cap display and was nearly…okay, actually moved to tears by what I saw!

yes

This is not the actual display I saw but nearly identical. I was too busy weeping to snap a pic.

That’s right folks! It was an entire line of DC Superhero (yeah, we’ll talk about how we are using that term loosely when applying it to characters like Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy) dolls, costumes, toy weapons and play sets featuring all female comic book characters!!!! Where was this when I was a child (granted I did have my She-ra, Princess of Power doll) …or even like 5 years ago because I would have been all over this shit! I wanted to buy every single one of them, skip all the way home, gleefully tear open their packages and spend hours playing with them, imagining and acting out all the scenarios in which they would kick ass, rescue Batman, Robin and Superman, I would swap their clothes, beat up the bad guys with their weapons, and find them each the perfect Breyer Horse on which to off ride into the sunset…but I did not do that. Not only did I get rid of my Breyer Horse collection like 15 years ago but I am an adult (or at least attempting to masquerade as one) and when adults spend $150.00 on dolls their spouses are usually not pleased and even less pleased when you spend hours on the floor playing with the aforementioned dolls that were formerly the money that was going to pay the car payment when you are supposed to making dinner or doing your taxes or replacing the car tabs or whatever bullshit adult task you were avoiding while you were playing with your AWESOME NEW DOLLS!!!dolls

Fuck being an adult…who never gets to play with dolls! And no, playing with my son’s action figures, while they are totally awesome and fun, does NOT count. Plus, having to share things with him is a total fucking bummer. He commandeers all my favorite stuffies too! The nerve of that kid….I swear!

Perhaps the most encouraging thing about the display, that I noticed through my tears, was that it was not in the “Girl” section. I wasn’t even near the “Girl” section whose pink you can practically feel radiating off it when you walk by. It was an end-cap display right off the aisle where you find the seasonal and outdoor toys and the last aisle of what would be considered “Boy” toys that housed a bunch of Star Wars toys, Transformers, and some Batman V. Superman movie themed toys. It was just there, waiting to be noticed. And it was noticed. While I stood there, once again, crying in the middle of Target I saw two other moms come up to the display and snap pictures. One of them even turned to me, with a look of understanding that basically said she wanted to come stand next to me and shake her angry, white fist at the patriarchy while singing Helen Reddy songs. We totally shared a moment.

shared moment

The other really encouraging thing about the display is that when I went back to Target, like a week and half later, they were nearly all gone! The display was practically empty! I even checked the “Girl” aisle in case they were moving them or something….not because I was totally going to buy myself Poison Ivy or Batgirl and/or maybe Harley Quinn, I was definitely NOT going to do that with part of the grocery money, because that would be totally irresponsible! The only doll left was Bumblebee, 3 lonely Bumblebees, just hanging out, waiting to inspire some young woman to greatness! And no, I don’t think the reason only Bumblebee was left has anything to do with the color of her skin (although it could be that I am just choosing to be willfully ignorant in this particular case because I am already too bummed from not getting a doll to think about the systemic and endemic racism in our country and would rather just put this whole experience in the feminist win column). I think it has more to do with the fact that Doom Patrol and Teen Titans just weren’t that popular and Bumblebee has never has her own series of books….until, of course, the introduction of the DC Superhero Girls at New York City Comic Con last October!

DCSHG-3-trimmed_560d69df63dac1.85807477

Now, all these cool chicks have their own books, web series, app, games, dolls, action figures (yes, there is a difference) and are basically taking the world by storm! This almost makes up for DC Comics saying, back in 2011, that “no one would watch a Wonder Woman movie”. And sadly, if they still let Zack Snyder direct it, they’ll probably be right. But alas, Zack Snyder can’t hit the mark every time….it’s not like Christopher Nolan or something, but I digress…no, I really do…because usually after saying that people keep on talking. I’m not going to do that. Okay?

Alright, I lied. I am going to keep talking about how badly I want one of these dolls and how they are much cooler than DC and Mattel’s previous pairing back in 2008.

not sure

While there’s nothing really wrong with these DC Barbies, other than the fact that they are Barbies, they seem like more collector’s items to me than something that would inspire adventurous and imaginative play for young girls. Don’t get me wrong. If I saw these on the shelf at Target today I would totally buy every last one (because how HOT is Black Canary over there?) but I would take them home, take them out of their boxes and then put them up on the shelf in my office (which at this point is imaginary…both the shelf and the office…because my “office” is just a room full of boxes that I have been too lazy to unpack for 6 months) and look at them, because they are cool and pretty to look at but not much good for anything beyond that.

I think we should all try to inspire young women to be more and do more and if seeing someone like Harley Quinn (who I guess now gets a “Superhero” pass because of Suicide Squad) who is mentally and emotionally unstable and in an abusive relationship with a criminally insane thug get her own doll, well, then I think that means any of us can do anything she wants!!! Yay for Democracy! But, sincerely, thanks to DC and Mattel for putting out these dolls, books, games and videos; they’re just really, really cool!

And thank you guys for hanging out with me, you mean the world to me! XOXO

 

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!

 

 

 

 

 

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!

 

 

 

 

 

The Lament of the Fancy Hamster

Several weeks back I was out on a date…with my five-year-old son, who is pretty much an excellent date because we always do whatever I want and there’s never that awkward moment where both of you reach for the check and you have to pretend like you actually want to pay for shit, but admittedly that’s mostly because we shoplift whenever possible.

First we went to Starbucks because I had gift cards and you can bet your sweet buns that my broke ass does not go to Starbucks unless someone else is paying for it…or maybe if it were a rioting/looting kind of situation but even then I would probably go to the jewelry store (higher black market resale value) or the bookstore (I am an enormous nerd) before I went to Starbucks but I guess if I got really thirsty after all the looting and rioting I would definitely go to Starbucks to loot some passion tea lemonade  and a couple of those petite vanilla bean scones or something because I am certainly not going to loot a small, independently owned coffee shop because, obviously, I have morals!

At Starbucks Bo had his usual, hot chocolate (where are we on needlessly abbreviating hot chocolate to HoCho ala FroYo? Let’s make it a thing!) and a heated croissant and I mine; iced americano, black. After Starbucks we decided to go to Uwajimaya because I thought it might be fun to look at live crabs and squid and origami sets and the dead eyes of so many Hello Kitties. But as we walked across the shopping center towards Uwajimaya we were sidetracked by Blue Sierra Pet Store!!! And it was the best thing EVER!!!!

It was basically like going to the Zoo except so much more awesome. Right when we walked in the first thing we see are BUNNIES! BUNNIES EVERYWHERE!!!! And as if that weren’t enough a nice young lady comes up and asks “Would you like to hold one of the bunnies?” and I’m like “FUCK YES, I WANNA HOLD ONE!” Except I didn’t say that, not out loud anyway but I said it with every vibrating cell in body. So within 12 seconds of walking into this place I was being handed adorable, fluffy bunnies….and I was HOME! After bunny fondling time was over (and admittedly I went back several more times because I had to try out ALL the bunnies…or at least the amiable ones that would have me) we went to look at the aquarium section wherein Bo loudly declared that everything we saw was either an electric eel or a “mutant megalodon shark” and while I am certain we did not see a mutant or even a non-mutant megalodon shark they legit had a motherfucking electric eel and I almost peed my pants! I was super excited about it….I think Bo was marginally unimpressed, which can happen sometimes when you meet your heroes and they don’t live up to your expectations.

What Bo WAS super excited about were the tarantulas. Like I said, this was several many weeks ago when he was super obsessed with this movie he found on Netflix (while surfing around unsupervised because, obviously, I am a horrible parent) called “Big Ass Spider”. Luckily he cannot read and I convinced him that the name of the movie was “Big Ol’ Spider”. The movie is one of those cheesy made-for-SyFy Channel type things like “Dino-Croc” or “Octoprechaun” (some say it’s half Leprechaun half octopus…others say it’s more of a 70/30 split), or “Vampodile” (clearly about a vampiric crocodile who is also GIANT and probably a robot, of course) or “The Hunt for the Mutant Weresquid” (which I would TOTALLY watch the shit out of if someone were to actually make) or (this is the last one, I swear) “Frankenweasel”. In any case, I watched this movie with Bo (despite my keen, irrational and downright psychotic fear of spiders) and it was pretty good. It had some gross but mostly cartoonish violence in it, what with the giant Black Widow rampaging through downtown L.A., stabbing people with its legs and ensnaring them in its sticky web, no language (that he doesn’t regularly hear at home), no nudity and it was actually pretty funny so I let him watch it and, predictably, it became the ONLY thing he wanted to watch for a solid 3 weeks. He became enthralled with spiders which led to my getting him a bunch of books on spiders which I then had to force myself to read to him. But through Bo’s infatuation I was able to relax a little on the spider issue; it became easier for me to look at pictures of spiders and my formerly unreasonable phobia was tempering…slightly.

Walking around the pet store and unwittingly wandering into one particular corner only to realize that you are actually surrounded by tarantulas was NOT making me feel all that reasonable regarding my phobia but I played it cool. I wanted to run the other way whilst doing that thing where all your limbs shake, you wildly flail your arms about your head clawing at your hair and skin, screaming “GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!”. But I did not do that. I lifted Bo up so he could see into all the little terrariums and check out all the spiders. He thought it was all pretty cool for about 3 minutes which is as long as he can sustain enthusiasm for any one thing.

After looking at the spiders I went back to the bunny area because I needed a fluffy bunny palate cleanser. Then it was on to the rodents and that’s where I saw this:

FANCY HAMPSTER

Sorry about the shitty picture. I did not have my picture-taking phone on me at the time, just my phone that can actually make calls….at least when I pay the bill.

As one might imagine, I got pretty excited when I saw this, but as I peered into the hamster enclosure all I saw was a regular hamster. There was literally NOTHING fancy about him (or her, I didn’t check). But honestly, how does one differentiate fancy hamsters from those that are non-fancy? This was a question I pondered well into that evening. Bottom line, when someone tells me a hamster is “fancy” there are a few things I expect to see so I made an example of what I think a “Fancy Hamster” should look like. See below:

The Fanciest of Hamsters

THIS, THIS IS WHAT I EXPECT when promised a “fancy hamster”! A hamster wearing a red, velvet cape, bowtie, monacle and top hat, sipping brandy and posing with his fancy walking stick and his prize-winning thoroughbred racehorse, Princess Butterscotch Mittenhaus III, next to an open box of Cohibas and a bottle of the world’s most expensive champagne while the library of the Hearst Castle! IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?!?!? I think not!

Undoubtedly, THAT is the fanciest of hamsters. They did not have any like this one at the pet store, presumably because he kept spilling his snifter of brandy every time he tried to take in onto his gilded hamster wheel and his miniature Cohibas and Armand de Brignac kept getting stolen from his cage and they could not afford to keep replacing them because Cohibas and Armand de Brignac are super expensive, even when they are hamster-sized.

All in all, despite the tarantulas and dearth of fanciness in the hamster department, Bo and I had a lovely time at the pet store and we cannot wait to go back…and save the $14.00 they charge you to get into the goddamn zoo these days! Also, I cannot remember that last time I went to the zoo and someone just handed me a bunny rabbit, SO THERE ZOO! SUCK IT!!!

I wanted to leave you with this. This is the opening 130 seconds of “Big Ass Spider” set to Storm Large’s cover of the Pixie’s “Where is my Mind” and it is motherfucking SUBLIME! Enjoy! XOXO

The Accidental Eulogy I Wrote for My Dad While Trolling a Troll!

So as a blogger and a person who has a reasonable grasp of common sense (I did not say I always employed said common sense) I rarely get bent out of shape about what people say (to me or anyone else) on the internet. I pretty much avoid comment sections because they are typically populated by the pond scum of humanity who STILL think that because they have a computer someone should give a shit about their opinion (says the blogger…ironically). But, when people comment on the shit I write, I totally read those because, DUH! And that is how I made my new bestest friend, Kelli! Kelli decided that it would be appropriate, nay, her duty to inform me that the way I chose to deal with the health complications and inevitable death of my Father was just not to her particular liking. Normally I would have just ignored it; see I don’t even delete negative or shitty comments or the people who write them because even that is paying them too much attention. But this was not a normal day, this was the day after my Dad died. So, when it became clear that Kelli had put up the force shields around her snotty comment making it so that me, as page manage could not reply, I decided to write her a personal message. But before we get into that below is a screenshot of her original comment:

 

Below is what I wrote to Kelli:

Hi Kelli,
I thought you and I could get to know one another since you seem to be so incredibly knowledgeable about all things, especially how other people should deal with the profound loss of a loved one. Now, I’ll admit, my Dad only died about *checks imaginary watch on wrist* 38 hours ago so it is possible that I have transitioned to the “anger” stage of grief, but I was wondering if you could tell me exactly HOW I should be dealing with my Dad’s death? He wasn’t elderly, you know. We weren’t expecting this. Oh, his name was Scott by the way, his friends that he grew up with called him Scooter. He was hilarious, generous, friendly, proud and the most non-judgmental person you could meet. He loved his children, his friends, his family, his two sister, his 94 year old mother, his ex-wife (the mother of his children) and his dogs with passion and fervor. He was a wonderful, flawed, giving, inappropriate, soulful, joyful human being and yesterday morning I held his dead body in my arms and cried into his neck and tried to say goodbye as best I knew how. If only you had been there to instruct me on how I should have been behaving more properly in that moment. Or, who knows, maybe you are fucking magical and simply knowing YOU protects those you love from death…that must be it since you have clearly never lost anyone important to you. Except maybe one of your 18 cats (I am just making an intuitive leap here because your Facebook page has a shit ton of pictures of cats, no humans oddly enough, and cats don’t live very long).

Sincerely,
Your Newest Bestest Friend Who Never Tires of Hearing Your Completely Baseless Opinions
Dacia Hanson
XOXO

I don’t know what I hoped to achieve, if anything, by reaching out to the pearl-clutching Kelli but I felt that the result was a very nice tribute to Dad so it is probably what I will end up reading at his memorial service. I was definitely not expecting a reply, mostly because when you message someone with whom you are not friends the likelihood that they will see your message is typically slim. But she, in her unrelenting and infinite wisdom, TOTALLY WROTE BACK TO ME!!!

conversations with kelli

Whaaaaa….?

confused Jackie Chan

Even Jackie Chan is confused….

jack

Call me crazy….But I think this bitch might be fucking stupid!

 

What the….? At this point I was kind of bummed because it was clear that I could not pursue my campaign against this person because she was obviously….how to put this delicately….a fucking retard (I am violently aware that is a hot button term and has been deemed politically incorrect and that enlightened humans should not use it in derision but I am not using it in derision I am genuinely making an assessment that this person is mentally deficient or at the very least cannot read). Yeah, I was a little bummed that I couldn’t really be mad at a person who had no idea what she was talking about because she couldn’t read but all in all it was a nice distraction on a day I could really use one.

I did, however, try to write back to Kelli, just to ask her if she was a robot but her messenger account informed me that “this user is not currently accepting messages from you at this time”. Okay, we’ve all done stupid shit on the internet that we regret (lord knows I have) but I believe there two kinds of people on this earth; the kind that do stupid shit on the internet but then realize they either should not have done that stupid shit or do not want to deal with the fallout of said stupid shit so they block and ban and delete and claim they were “hacked” (like anyone would bother hacking you, you fucking useless nobody) and move to India and change their name and join a holy house where the internet does not exist OR the people who do stupid shit on the internet then watch with amusement while the rest of the world gets bent out of shape about it. In my opinion (which we can all agree doesn’t much matter) you might as well just own your stupid shit because there really is no running from it…that’s why god invented screenshots.

So I was ready to walk away when I saw this!

“So Old Renton Book Exchange and The Biblio Diva are one in the same! How Narcissistic of you. Shall I publish your little post, remember we’re best friends now peanut. [sic]” (and no, I did not get a screenshot of this which sort of blows my previous point out of the water but who gives a shit).

Okay, first of all, I super love my new nickname! Secondly, excellent detective work, Sherlock! You totally get a gold star! Thirdly, of course I am a narcissist; I am a blogger which automatically means that I am blessed with the unique ability to overlook my own irrelevance! Fourthly (and I am fairly certain that’s not a real word), her threat to “publish” what I had written to her was hilarious because if I write it, I am not doing it for my goddamn health! OF COURSE I AM GOING TO PUBLISH THAT SHIT! I am lazy as fuck and that was like a good 300 words. You are stupider than I thought if you think I was just gonna waste those on you! Sheesh!

hello mcfly

HELLO! McFLY! ANYBODY HOME?!?!

So, any decent human being would have learned some sort of valuable lesson by now but I think we can all agree that I am nowhere near being a decent human being. I am thankful to Kelli for distracting me from my misery for a few hours and I hope she reads this so she knows that she was helpful, because, at the end of the day, I am pretty sure that’s all she really wants; to help people.

Hey, I love you guys. Thanks to everyone who read (all of) yesterday’s post (and comprehended it in its entirety) and thank you for just being here and making life seem a little less horrible and a lot less pointless (that was a double negative). Everyone who took time out of their day yesterday to send me their love or prayers or thoughts or offer their condolences I owe you an enormous “thank you”, an enormous hug and probably an enormous martini! XOXO

FUCK CANCER!

Alan Rickman and David Bowie died this week which sort of makes me think that god has something against 69 year old British Dudes who are awesome. I don’t have anything funny to say about the loss of these two beautiful, uniquely talented, stunning man-creatures. I just wanted to mention them, mourn them and take a moment to say FUCK CANCER! Fuck you for striking both these men down, fuck you for taking so many lives every day that don’t get media attention, the lives that go unnoticed, fuck you for defying medical and scientific odds and technology, fuck you for tearing our loved ones away from us far too soon, fuck you for the children who are left motherless and the mothers who are forced to mourn their children, fuck you for the families you leave broken and the scars that will never heal, fuck you for all the detritus you leave in your wake but fuck you most of all for the little ones. The completely innocent lives that you take are the most damning, the most enraging, the most confounding and the most tragic. We may never understand your motives but we will never cease working to stop you in your stupid, fucking tracks! FUCK YOU!!!!! FUCK YOU, CANCER, FUCK YOU!!!!!

Enjoy these neoclassical style paintings of Mr. Bowie and Mr. Rickman (no, neither of them held the Queen’s title of “Sir” however BOTH men were offered a knighthood and both, for various reasons, turned it down).

4-David-Bowie1alan-rickman-army-general-painting

Getting Sick is Childish Just Not in the Way you Think

I wrote this yesterday….as anyone who uses Google can tell you, yesterday was Charles Perrault’s birthday, not today and none of this makes any sense to you yet.

 

It was a fun weekend; I got Strep Throat so…points. Does anyone else feel like Strep Throat is a really juvenile disease? Like it would be weird if I came to you and said “Yeah, I have the Chicken Pox” particularly since they vaccinate for that shit now. Or if I told you that I had croup or measles or Recreational Water Illness (RWI and yes, that’s a real thing. Google that shit!) or mumps or diaper rash; you would think that was weird…right? God, I fucking hope so! Or if I told you I had Tourette’s….actually, never mind, that totally tracks.

I just feel like I can’t even get a proper, grown-up ailment. Like even my diseases are refusing to grow up and be mature upstanding diseases, like arthritis or hypertension or cancer. I couldn’t have one of those fancy, grown-up illnesses like that. Nope! I got Strep Throat.

I was pretty sure, by the third day that it was Strep. I had looked at my throat with a flashlight and my tonsils were swollen roughly to the size of the average male goat’s testicles and they had all kinds of white blotches on them. That night when I went to work I (of course) looked up my symptoms on the internet and for once the internet was kind to me and told me I had Strep Throat, not Cancer of the Sudden Painful Death. Despite my raging fever and opulently grotesque and sore throat, I toughed it out through the Sunday night shift and went home.

The next morning, against all odds, it was even worse. My glands were swollen to the point they were causing me to have earaches and headaches, not to mention the fact that it kind of looked like I had a fleshy doughnut lodged beneath my chin. I had planned on going to the doctor as soon as I could drag my sagging corpse out of bed.

At the doctor’s office, the best part was the man-nurse who was getting me all checked in and checked out before the doctor could come in. He said, “So, you think you have Strep?” and I replied in the affirmative, listing off my various symptoms; swollen glands, earaches, swollen tonsils, white spots on the tonsils, fever etc. He then proceeds to tell me that “most of the time it’s not Strep” citing that Strep is most often accompanied with swelling of the glands, fever, swollen tonsils, headaches or earaches etc. Now, is it just me or was his list of example symptoms practically identical to those that I had just listed? Yeah, that’s what I thought! It’s like he resented me for having the audacity to self-diagnose and therefore wanted me to be wrong.

The moment I opened my mouth so that he could swab my throat for the culture test he was met with the grim reality that he could no longer deny. The reality that…I was right! Suck it, man-nurse! It’s not my fault you’re insecure with your career choices!!! He hastily, and if you ask me a bit ham-handedly, swabbed my throat and left the room. The doctor came in not 2 minutes later, before the culture test could be completed, and asked me the same goddamn questions but at least she wasn’t an asshole about it. She looked at my throat and my ears with her fancy doctor flashlights and then popped her head out the door and someone on the other side of nurses’ station yelled, “Yep!” at her. Apparently my test had come back positive for Strep…imagine that.

In short order I was dispatched with my prescriptions and Bo and I made our way home where, for the better part of the afternoon, we snuggled, listened to music, and watched “Pirates of the Caribbean” on Netflix because that’s how we roll.

So far Bo has managed to avoid getting it but when I dropped him off at school this morning there was a big sign on the classroom door reading:
“ATTENTION PARENTS! We have had an outbreak of Strep Throat….blah, blah, etc.”
Which pretty much just cemented my belief that I cannot even get sick like an adult. There’s probably no hope for me.

                                                                                                                                                                            

On to a completely different topic; today is the 338th birthday of French author, storyteller, mythmaker, the legendary Charles Perrault. He is responsible for nearly every title we think of as “Classic Fairy Tales” and he was doing it over a century before the Brothers Grimm. He is the progenitor of Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Little Red Riding Hood, Puss n’ Boots, Bluebeard and many others. He is also thought to be the creator of Mother Goose, having first published “Les Contes de Ma Merè L’Oye” or “Tales from my Mother Goose” in 1697. Needless to say Disney would not even exist if it were not for Charles Perrault.

I just wanted to give Chuck a shout-out on his birthday and use this opportunity to share some of the incredible illustrations that his works have inspired for the last 3 centuries! I hope y’all enjoys these as much as I do! XOXO

RUDOLF KOIVU 1942

Rudolf Koivu 1942 Sleeping Beauty

CHARLES BOWATER

Charles Bowater 2012 Sleeping Beauty

FELIX LIROUX 1921

Felix Liroux 1921 Puss N’ Boots

FELIX LIROUX CIND

Felix Liroux 1926 Cinderella

ABIGAIL LARSEN SB

Abigail Larson 2010 Sleeping Beauty

ADRIENNE SEGUR 1951

Adrienne Segur 1951 Little Red Riding Hood

FELIX LORIOUX 1926

Felix Liroux 1926 Cinderella

crane_sleepingbeauty

Walter Crane 1876 Sleeping Beauty

ADASA SKLIUTAUSKAITE_1973

Adasa Skliutauskaite 1973 Cinderella (STUNNING!)

ADRIENNE SEGUR 1967

Adrienne Segur 1967 Puss N’ Boots

WALTER CRANE 1876

Walter Crane 1876

KY KRAFT 1992

K. Y. Kraft 2000 Cinderella

KY KRAFT 92

K. Y. Kraft 2000 Cinderella

ARTHUR RACKHAM SB

Arthur Rackham 1911 Sleeping Beauty

ARTHUR RACKHAM 1902

Arthur Rackham 1902 Little Red Riding Hood

HARRY CLARKE 1922

Harry Clarke 1922 Little Red Riding Hood

GUSTAVE DORE 1862

Gustave Dore 1862 Puss N’ Boots

KAY NIELSEN 1913

Kay Nielsen 1913 Sleeping Beauty

KAY NIELSEN BLUEBEARD

Kay Nielsen 1909 Bluebeard

IMG_0555

Mary Blair 1952 Cinderella

HARRY CLARKE 1922_SLEEPING BEAUTY

Harry Clarke 1922 Sleeping Beauty

MARY BLAIR SLEEPING BEAUTY

Mary Blair Ca. 1960 Sleeping Beauty

GUSTAVE DORE 1862_1

Gustav Dore 1862 Little Red Riding Hood

EDMUND DULAC 1910

Edmund Dulac 1910 Cinderella

TRINA SCHART HYMAN 1983

Trina Schart Hyman (not making that up) 1983 Little Red Riding Hood

LUCY LEVENSON QUILT

Lucy Levenson 2014 Sleeping Beauty quilt….YEAH! That’s a goddamn quilt, y’all!!!

 

Happy Fucking New Year!

This, along with various other overextended claims regarding my physical health and appearance, was to be my New Year’s Resolution! The reason I chose to begin bothering you people again as my new years resolution is because this was something I could totally do without leaving the house, putting down this glass of whiskey or putting on “real pants”. Because those are just things in which I have no interest.

I could make this the post where I explain to you why the site went dormant or what I have been up to in the interim but I am not going to do that. What I am going to say is, welcome to the new site, it is still in its infancy and will probably be going through some adjustments here and there. What happened to all the old posts? Well, luckily I was able to salvage the majority of them from the evil, devouring Server-Monsters at Just Host, and will be attempting to re-link everything I can.

I hope we can pick up where we left off. I hope that all of you are still out there. I hope to make you laugh every day. And I hope that this beautiful, strange, delinquent journey can continue for a long, long time.

HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE! I’M BACK!!!

ALSO, (drink) you should read the “about” page because I wasted all my funny on that today. See you tomorrow!!!!

ThinkstockPhotos-497103430