Thursday, April 24, 2008

God, I hate DC

Ok, so I was just browsing wikipedia, randomly shuffling through pages, reading what-have-you, like I usually do during quiet periods at work. I was reading about the character Ultraboy from the Legion of Superheroes. Don't judge me, it's really slow here today.

Basically Ultraboy has all of the powers of Superman, except that he can only use them one at a time. Fair enough. In his first appearance way back in 1962, he is sent back in time to Smallville, Kansas to learn the secret identity of Superboy. Again, fair enough. Let's look at the cover of that issue:

Notice anything unusual?

Ultraboy is searching for Superboy in disguise, so naturally he would x-ray vision people to see if they have a Union suit and cape under their snappy shirt and slacks. That makes perfect sense.

But Superboy, or "Clark" is walking down the street with a stone-cold redheaded fox, Lana Lang. And he's using his x-ray vision to check out dudes. His thought bubble should more accurately read:

"Great Krypton! My X-Ray vision reveals that new boy in town has a secret identity! I was just trying to take a look at his taut, young body glistening from the sweat of a long baseball game!"

We could also add a word bubble for Lana that says "Oh Clark, I feel so safe around you, you're just like a big sister!"

I always figured Supes was a huge closet case. However, I'm about to give credit where it's due. In looking into more Golden Age comic panels to make fun of, I came across these websites:

They have been doing it for some time, with hilarious results. Any other comics fans that read this should definitely give them a look.

I'll leave you with this classic panel, guest starring the Fantastic Four:

Ladies love the Spider-charm. Check out how pissed Reed looks.



Sunday, April 20, 2008

We have a winnah!

This guy.

With his answer of:


And also,

Phantom Menace
Phantom Limb
The Phantom."

Correct, the secret word was 'phantom.' Bonus points for the Family Guy reference.

He is now the proud owner of Sex for America: Politically Inspired Erotica.

Which is just as well, because Oach and I are both pretty sick of having it around the apartment.

Thanks for playing, everyone

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Hey-Na, Hey-Na My Boyfriend's Back.

Have I mentioned how seldom I am wrong? Don't get me wrong, it does happen. Sometimes I think "this is a good idea" and then several hours later, look back and think "no, that was not a good idea at all." For example:



But this is something else. This is the inviolable rule of threes. This morning, on the subway, I had my third encounter with the man that Oach delights in referring to as my boyfriend. For the backstory, read THIS before continuing.

So yeah, this morning the other shoe fell.

I was sitting on the N train with my eyes closed and Three Dog Night playing on my Ipod.

The train had just passed 59th and Lexington, so many commuters transferred over to the 4 5 6 line, and seats opened up. As the train was moving down the track, I felt a *whumph* and material touching my arm. At first I assumed it was simply an overweight businessperson sitting down harder than they had originally planned. I was disabused of this notion by the Spider-sense buzzing in my head.

Sidenote: this is one of the most ridiculous uses of Spidey-sense I've ever seen.

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes. I checked the reflection in the window opposite, and added visual confirmation to the olfactory info I had just gotten wind of. It was my "friend." He was sitting in the seat next to me, sideways, staring at me.

Now this was one of the newer N cars, so thankfully there was a vertical hand rail that separated us. It gave me a slight feeling of safety and an imaginary boundary line. I made eye contact with one of the two twentysomething girls seated accross from me. We had a completely wordless conversation that went something like this:

Her: Ummm... You have a homelessman staring at you.

Me: I was afraid of that

Her: Oh, man. What are you going to do about it?

Me: I don't suppose you'd want to help me out at all?

Her: No chance, you're on your own. Good luck, though.

Me: (sigh) Thanks, enjoy the show.

And so it was time to go into battle. I turned and met his shrunken, horryifying eyes once again. He left it to me to initiate conversation. Foolishly, I went to my default.

"Can I help you?"

I was expecting him to be silent and staring, but, remarkably, he spoke:


That's what I heard anyway.

"I'm sorry, I didn't understand you," said I.


Ok, time to get crazy with some strategy on him. I removed one of my ipod's ear buds.

"One more time?"

"I got a toothache."

Ah. My immediate diagnosis was that of Phantom Limb , but I didn't really feel like explaining the concept to him.

"I'm sorry to hear it." And I was, but hey, I don't exactly go walking around with a dental plan in my pants (that's not true, ladies. *wink*).

"Yeah" was his response.

"Well, good luck with that," I said. Then, in a move I had been planning for the last three seconds, I put the ear bud back in my ear to signal the end of the conversation. I looked back at the girl.

Me: How was that?

Her: He's still there, and he's still staring at you.

Me: Yeah, I'm pretty sure he's going to do that for a while.

Her: If not for the smell, I would be enjoying your plight immensely

Me: Meh, whatcha gonna do?

At this point we had just left the 57th street station. That meant more people had gotten off, and I was free to slide over a half a space. This gave me room to breathe without my friend all up on me, and the vertical handrail prevented him from getting any closer. The staring did continue unabated.

My salvation was technology. In our previous encounters, he had forced me to deal with him directly. Thanks to the wonder of the Ipod that my parents gave me for my birthday (Thanks again, Mom and Dad!) I was able to ignore him. To paraphrase Al Pacino in the movie Heat:

"You know, we are sitting here, you and I, like a couple of regular fellas. You do what you do, and I do what I gotta do. And now that we've been face to face, if I'm there and I gotta put you away, I won't like it. But I tell you, if it's between you and me in a pointless battle of willpower, brother, you are going down."

I once had a contest with a coworker to see who could keep their arm submerged in a bucket of ice water the longest. I won that competition handily (get it?). So if this guy thinks I can't stare straight ahead for a few more stops, then he's got another thing coming. I think he tried to speak to me a few more times, but the groovy sounds of Three Dog Night drowned him out. I had the beginnings of a little smile on my face, as I had already started writing this blog in my head, and realized the truth that his capacity to unnerve me was far less than my capacity to pay no attention to him whatsoever.

When the train rolled into Union Square, I thought my salvation was at hand. Just a quick transfer to the R, and I'd be free. Sadly, the R train left before the doors opened. Watching from my periphery, the homelessman was definitely going to follow me. Let him try. The doors opened, and I headed for the stairs, putting the distance of several humans between us. Then I vanished without a trace, like the Ghost Who Walks.

Ok, a bit of exaggeration. I made a protracted loop around the station and ended up on the same platform I left. He presumably caught an uptown train to start his cycle over again and potentially latch onto someone with a more exposed sense of pity.

Well at least the third encounter is out of the way, and I don't have to live in fear any more. If these things keep happening, we may have to work out an agreement that involves me paying him to bother Oach or Mr. Morchison whenever they're on the train. Let him earn my money.

Oh yes, and also I've decided to announce a contest for this blog entry. The first person to guess the Secret Word for this post will win a fabulous prize. Of some kind. Let's see... Aha! The first person to guess the Secret Word for this post will win a copy of Sex for America: Politically Inspired Erotica.

Don't ask.

So yeah, let the games begin!


P.S. - Your first clue is inviolable.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Boilermaker 2008 - Throwing the Gauntlet

Hello friends,

I haven't updated in a little bit, due to my well-established laziness. However, in almost direct contrast to said laziness, I have begun running once again. At this point, I intend to run the Boilermaker.

Funny thing, as I typed that last sentence, I misspelled "run" as "ruin." In retrospect, that is true. I will ruin the Boilermaker. I will make it so that the Boilermaker will be too ashamed to attract anyone else, for fear that they will discover the truth of her shameful past with me.

Of course this is all bravado. In reality I hope to stumble across the finish line, making some bizarre half wheeze half hacking foamy cough sound as my dehydrated body tries and fails to produce enough moisture to let me cry.

You know, like the last time.

No, not really. The first (and last) time I ran the Boilermaker, I survived it well enough. I almost finished in the money, too. I just stumbled at the last second, and that allowed seven thousand nine hundred and ninety five people to pass me. I count it as a victory,though. Like in Cool Runnings.

You know, the movie about the Jamaican Bobsled team. The team that everyone laughed at and said would fail, but they showed them all anyway by... well, failing. But they had John Candy!

However, I don't have John Candy. Damn.

It just occurred to me that some of you people out there probably aren't familiar with the Boilermaker. It is a 15k road race. That's 9.3 miles for those of you who aren't filthy communists. It takes place each year in Utica, NY. Also the finish line is in front of the F.X. Matt Brewing Company, the proud brewers of Saranac Beer.


And yes, there is a giant party after, and yes there is free beer, and yes it's wicked easy to get ripped when you're really dehydrated and jacked up on endorphins. Anyway, I have to get prepared.

I really wish I could just do a wacky montage that ends with a fadeout and one of those slow motion 'arms in the air triumph' shots. Also I would be Kenyan.

Note to self: download song "montage" from Team America soundtrack. Add to running mix. Also add America Fuck Yeah.

Also "legally acquire" Team America.

However, said montage would be both impossible and in poor taste. So I'm back to pounding the pavement. For my birthday, my parents got me a new ipod nano, which is pretty badass. Now I've never been known for my taste in music, at least, not in any positive sense. And so I've been loading up the ipod with all kinds of music and throwing together one of the most bizarre running mixes ever constructed. Get your judging caps on:

1) Nations of the World - Animaniacs
2) Rockin' the Suburbs - Ben Folds
3) Proud Mary - Creedence Clearwater Revival
4) Eye of the Tiger - Survivor
5) Lookin Out My Back Door - Creedence Clearwater Revival
6) Another One Bites the Dust - Queen
7) Welcome to Paradise - Green Day
8) Big Rock Candy Mountain - O Brother Where Art Thou?
9) Come Sail Away - Styx
10) Joy to the World - Three Dog Night
11) Supercalifragilisticexpialodocious - Mary Poppins
12) Man of Constant Sorrow (band version) - O Brother Where Art Thou
13) All the Small Things - Blink 182
14) Love in and Elevator - Aerosmith
15) Nice Guys Finish Last - Green Day
16) Minority - Green Day

Good times. It undergoes constant revision. I used to have Mr. Roboto by Styx on there, but it almost killed me one time by being slow and boring. Come Sail Away is on its way out, too. Maybe I'll make it part of a "try not to vomit and/or lose consciousness" post-running mix. I've also rearranged the playing order as I used to be finished running before Eye of the Tiger came on, and that's just a waste.

Oh yeah, anyone that wants to run the Boilermaker as well, get in touch with me. You might win a stay at Camp Rev.

Later babies,


Monday, April 7, 2008

A Goodbye to a Hollywood Legend.

"If you need a ceiling painted, a chariot race run, a city besieged, or the Red Sea parted, you think of me."

-Charlton Heston (1924-2008)