It’s a battle of the boy wieners!
(That came out dirtier than I intended.)
Anyway, I’m none too fond of either Spiderman or Robin, but I thought, hey, let’s tally things up and see which one I’m slightly less less fond of. To write that in a manner that has fewer repeated words: Which one do I hate the least?
On to the slapfest!
(C’mon, you know they’re both slappers.)
Physicality. Spiderman is the teenaged/middle-aged/it depends on who’s writing-aged Peter Parker, who was played by Toby Maguire in the films, and Andrew Garfield in the reboot, because why not do a reboot already. Also, who the hell is Andrew Garfield? Anyway, they’re both brunettes who aren’t hideously ugly, but they’re certainly not my cup of tea, so meh. Robin is the teenaged five or six different people, and I can’t ever keep track of them all (because I don’t care), so we’ll go with the Dick Grayson version, who is actually Nightwing now. That name still doesn’t make sense to me. Whatever. Dick Grayson was played by Chris O’Donnell in that abomination unto the Lord, Batman Forever. Chris O’Donnell isn’t bad-looking, I guess. Winner? Andrew Garfield, for not having been in a comic book sequel yet.
Has superpowers for some reason. Peter Parker was bitten by a radioactive spider and, rather than succumbing to cancer like any of the rest of us would, mutated into a superhuman with ridiculous powers like “spider sense.” If spiders are so sensitive, why don’t they cry when I squash their friends, huh? Robin has no superpowers, and would probably just get a rash if a radioactive spider bit him. Winner? Spiderman.
Trained with a much more awesome superhero. A lot of people say Batman shouldn’t be called a “superhero” because he doesn’t have superpowers, but those people are jackasses, because Batman’s superpower is being the goddamned Batman. He trained Robin, because being the Dark Knight gets lonely, and sometimes you need the companionship of a teenage boy. Also, a more visible target.
Spiderman lives in the Marvel Universe, which has never been exposed to the awesome that is Batman, so he missed out. Also, he got superpowers, so he didn’t need to train with anybody. Winner? Robin.
Is in a movie series with cameo appearances by the great, godlike Bruce Campbell? Thanks to Sam Raimi, creator of the Evil Dead franchise, being good buddies with the very excellent Bruce Campbell, the man himself has had a cameo appearance in every Spiderman movie that I’ve ever seen, and possibly also the third one. Robin’s only been in one Batman movie that I’m aware of (So lazy! So apathetic! Refuse to research older Batman movies!), and even Bruce Campbell at his slummingest wouldn’t be involved with that stinkbomb. Winner? Spiderman.
Later became Nightwing? As I mentioned before, Dick Grayson went on to become Nightwing, and dated some hot alien spacechick because being Batman’s apprentice is a total aphrodisiac. Winner? Robin.
Suffered the loss of parents/parental figure(s) as part of a tragic, tragic backstory? What comic book is complete without a tragic backstory? Not even Lone Wolf and Cub, dammit. Spiderman is an orphan being raised by Aunt May and Uncle Ben until he gets bitten by a radioactive spider and decides to become a wrestler because that’s totally logical. Although I guess I do like that he wasn’t immediately: “Hey! I have superpowers! Time to fight crime!” like everybody else except the supervillains. So he’s got that going for him. Anyway, as a result of his wrestling, some guy killed his Uncle Ben. The moral here is to never join the wrestling team. Dick Grayson worked in a traveling carnival as part of a family of acrobats because screw child labor laws, that’s why. His acrobat parents were totally murdered in front of him, just like a young Batman’s (Batboy’s?) parents were before him. It’s so goddamned tragic up in here, you guys, I just can’t stand it. Winner? Spiderman, for losing slightly more relatives to tragic circumstances.
Has a better costume? Spiderman has a red and blue costume so he looks exactly like a spider.
Robin has a red, green and yellow costume because there can only be one dark knight, dammit, so someone has to be the almost-primary-colors knight. Winner? Nobody. Their costumes both suck. Although at least Spiderman’s doesn’t have a ridiculous cape, so maybe … nah. Still stupid.
Has a hotter wife? Well, Peter Parker used to have a hot wife until he sold his marriage to the devil, because … wait, what? This happened? Gods, no wonder I’ve been sticking to small press stuff lately. Jesus. I mean, shit. Who sells their marriage to the devil? And what kind of half-assed devil buys that sort of thing? I don’t think Robin ever married. Well, this category would’ve gone to Spiderman, because redheads are hot, but whatever. Winner? Nobody.
Overall winner, because I’m sick of these two guys already? Spiderman, for causing slightly fewer gay jokes than Robin.
Do you have a first name? Is Miyamoto your first name? Because it sounds like a last name to me, but what do I know, I’m not Japanese. I guess that could have been two sentences, but it’s too late for regrets (or editing) now!
Why is it too late?
Because, Miyamoto, I love you.
I know this seems sudden, because you hardly know me — actually, you don’t know me at all because of the whole stupid boundary between fiction and reality — but I feel like I’ve known you all my life. Or at least since 2005, when I got your movie on DVD. It was one of those movies with time travel, and aliens and slow-motion fight sequences and explosions and, most importantly of all, Takeshi Kaneshiro, who played you: Miyamoto. Also, he wore leather and sunglasses a lot, and that was awesome.
I mean, it was like the director of the movie looked into my soul and my soul said, “Thank you so, so, so much for casting Takeshi Kaneshiro in an action movie with time travel and aliens and he shoots people a lot while he’s wearing leather and sunglasses.”
(My soul is the grateful sort.)
So there you were, Miyamoto, looking exactly like Takeshi Kaneshiro and shooting bad guys and saving the world like no one’s business. (I forgot what I was actually going to say there, and kind of blankly stared at the computer screen for a moment, so “no one’s business” it is.) And wearing leather and sunglasses, because damn.
And, since you gave up the life of an assassin or whatever the hell you were (hired gun?) at the end of the movie, and didn’t get shot to death thanks to the power of time travel!, and the female character was too young to play your love interest, I thought that maybe we could get together or something. You know, for “until death do us part” and all that.
Please wear leather to the wedding.
Or Armani. Armani is also fine.
Well, I’m back. Maybe you didn’t notice I was gone. Or maybe you did, and you were all, “Hey, why didn’t she notify us like last time?” Or maybe you did notice, and you didn’t care, and that’s one more reader I just lost. (What am I doing wrong? I can chaaaaaange!!!!)
Anyway, yes, I was on vacation, but I thought for sure I’d use the computer while I was gone, since it was actually a staycation, and gods, I hate that word.
But I couldn’t afford to go anywhere else and “use it or lose it,” so there you go. But it turns out that I didn’t use the computer, because you know what I did instead?
So. Much. Cleaning. Omigod, so much. My house is just so clean, you just don’t even know.
You just don’t. Even. Know.
But, anyway, I’m back now, which means that when it’s slow at work, or when I just can’t bear to input anymore building permits (God damn you, hailstorm), you’ll be getting all sorts of hilarious posts from me again.
So, why hasn’t anyone told Jennifer Aniston to stop making movies?
I mean, there’s plenty of other things she could be doing. She could have a shoe line, for instance. Shoe lines are nice. She could go back to television, like maybe hosting some sort of reality show. Those are nice.
OK, maybe that’s not plenty of other things, but it’s still other things. She could be doing those other things. That would be nice.
So why hasn’t someone told her to stop making movies?
Is it because people still want her haircut?
Is it because she’s America’s sweetheart, even though I thought that was Julia Roberts (no matter how much her teeth make me want to slap her across the face)?
Is it because my aunt likes her movies? Well, I have news for you, Hollywood. My aunt likes the National Treasure movies. Yeah. Both of them. Both of them. So her taste is suspect, and I’m sure there can’t be that many people out there who have equally suspicious tastes.
But, since no one will tell Jennifer Aniston she should stop making movies, we have The Switch, which would be better served by having Jason Bateman star opposite someone else. Anyone else.
Oh, wait, no, I’m sorry, I meant, we have The Switch, which would have been better served by why the hell did someone even make a romantic comedy about switched sperm samples anyway? Christ.
These days, it’s hard for girls to tell exactly what kind of mythical being they’re dating. That’s why I’m here to help. I’m just a helpful person.
This week’s guide discusses the possibility that the being you are dating could be, in fact, an Egyptian mummy. You’ve had your suspicions, but how can you be sure?
By asking yourself the following questions, of course:
1. Is your boyfriend a mummy? I know this one seems like a no-brainer, but you have to start somewhere. If you can answer “yes” to this question, then you are well on the path to being certain you’re dating an Egyptian mummy.
2. Is your boyfriend Egyptian? Even if your first answer is “yes,” you can’t be sure what kind of mummy you’ve got. For instance, you could be dating the mummified remains of the “world’s oldest living man,” who isn’t actually all that old nor all that alive. Nowadays, you have to be certain.
3. All right, so your boyfriend’s Egyptian, but you’re not sure he’s a mummy. Is he wrapped in bandages? This one is a toughie. Maybe he’s wrapped in bandages because he’s a mummy and he’s trying to prevent the leakage of precious bodily fluids. Maybe he’s wrapped in bandages because he’s the invisible man. This one really could go either way, but, if he is wrapped in bandages, you at least have a starting point.
4. Does he control zombie hordes? Some Egyptian mummies who have been raised from the dead can control zombie hordes. It makes for a better action sequence, you know? So if your boyfriend can control zombie hordes, he could be an Egyptian mummy. Or a dark wizard. Or a mad scientist. These things are hard to narrow down, which is why there are ten questions. (That, and if there’s not ten questions, then I can’t make this a top ten list.)
5. Does your boyfriend worship Ra? Or Osiris? Or Atum? (Or Aton, or however they’re spelling it nowadays?) If your boyfriend does worship one — or all — of these gods, you should be aware that they are ancient Egyptian gods, and the likelihood of him being an Egyptian mummy is ever-rising.
6. Did you meet your boyfriend at the museum? Was he in a mummy’s casket? If he was in a mummy’s casket, you’ve got your answer. If he was just hanging around the Egyptian wing, all bandaged and zombie horde-leading, things are still iffy.
7. Does he like The Bangles? Specifically, their hit “Walk Like an Egyptian”? OK, actually this is totally a throwaway question. Everyone likes that song.
8. Does he have some sort of mystical power? Like, maybe he can raise the dead to make them into the zombie hordes he’s leading? Or maybe he makes some sort of, I don’t know, sand storm? In Egypt? Or he just curses people and then when they fall victim to the curse, he says, “Ha, ha, the mummy’s curse got them?” If so, chances are: you’re dating an Egyptian mummy.
9. Does he resemble paintings of old pharaohs? Well, that’s a tough one too. Art was more abstract than representational in those days, so all the pharaohs kind of look alike. But if you notice he’s wearing one of those head things (you know, the head things?), like, constantly, then he either has one of the lamest affectations ever, or he is totally an Egyptian mummy.
10. Does he hang out with a guy he calls Anubis who happens to have the head of a jackal? Anubis is the jackal-headed Egyptian god associated with — I hope you’re sitting down for this! — mummification. I know, right? If your boyfriend hangs out with Anubis, then, yeah, that’s a pretty sure sign right there.
If you have answered yes to all these questions, especially the first two, which, you’ll remember, are “Is your boyfriend a mummy?” and “Is your boyfriend Egyptian?”, then you are certainly dating an Egyptian mummy. Stay tuned for a follow-up installment: “How to dump your Egyptian mummy boyfriend for Brendan Fraser.”
It’s a battle of guys named (descriptor) Bob! Which automatically eliminates Bob the Builder, but he sucks anyway, so it’s OK.
For those of you not in the know, Sideshow Bob is a character on The Simpsons. Killer BOB is part of the Twin Peaks mythos, and is the part that always makes me scream in terror a little bit, because the actor is terrifying.
On to the battle!
Physicality. Sideshow Bob is an animated character with really, really big feet. He played second fiddle to a clown (a Klown?) for many years. From that alone, I think we can infer that he’s none too attractive. Killer BOB, with apologies to the actor who plays him, has scraggly hair and is all sorts of evil/fugly. Winner? Nobody. Gods. They’re both hideous.
Is the physical embodiment of evil? Sideshow Bob is a criminal mastermind (?) who has terrorized Bart Simpson for years, in addition to framing Krusty the Clown for bank robbery and various other feats of evil-ty that I 1) can’t be bothered to list now; and 2) that’s because I can’t remember what they are specifically. Killer BOB is an evil entity that possesses people and makes them commit evil acts, like (spoiler alert!) murdering their very own precious daughter. Winner? You think this is a gimme for Killer BOB, don’t you? Well, you forgot that Sideshow Bob is a clown. It’s a tie.
Actually committed evil-er acts, then. Fine, since The Simpsons is a family show and hardly ever kills anybody, except for all those people that they have killed, this category goes to Killer BOB. Winner? Killer BOB.
Has a strange relationship to shoes somehow. Sideshow Bob has freaky big feet. Like, the kind of feet that make ladies sit up and take notice. Yeah. So it goes without saying that it’s pretty hard for Sideshow Bob to find shoes that fit. Actually, it doesn’t go without saying, because I said it. Killer BOB roomed with a guy above a gas station, and that one-armed man named Mike eventually became a shoe salesman. Twin Peaks doesn’t make sense sometimes. Winner? It’s another tie!
Why is Killer BOB’s name capitalized? I don’t know.
Provokes a deep, almost inadvertent, emotional response? When I see Sideshow Bob, I laugh like a little girl, because I know that Kelsey Grammer is doing the voice acting, and for some reason, that slays me. When I see Killer BOB, I scream like a little girl, because I’m afraid he will slay me for real. Those are both deep emotional responses. Winner? It’s a tie!
Has crazier hair? Killer BOB has scraggly gray hair, which we covered already. But it’s no match for Sideshow Bob’s mop, which doesn’t have gravity to deal with. Winner? Sideshow Bob.
Who’d've thought these guys were so evenly matched up? Nobody! Nobody would’ve thunk it.
The tie-breaking question? Is coming up.
Has a better cohort in crime? Sideshow Bob has Sideshow Cecil, who will live on forever via the immortal line: “And now to kill you. There may be a slight ringing in your ears. Fortunately, you’ll be nowhere near them.” Sideshow Cecil is so cool. Killer BOB has Mike, the one-armed man who has turned into a shoe salesman. Twin Peaks is so godsdamned weird. Winner? The guy whose brother is voiced by one of my heroes, David Hyde Pierce. Sideshow Bob.
Overall winner? Sideshow Bob. I’d say by a hair, but we all know it was the big feet.
So, me? Not a big fan of Scott Pilgrim.
I couldn’t understand it for the longest time. After all, all my friends liked it, and we all like Akira too. (Right, you guys? You like Akira too, right?) And then I finally figured it out: I’m a girl.
(Yes, I know that’s a news flash to the commentors who say I’m envious of Channing Tatum’s chest rather than lustful of. Or is it Tatum Channing? Shit, I can’t ever remember that guy’s name.)
Anyway, me: girl.
Scott Pilgrim: boys’ fantasy.
I’m probably the worst girl at being a girl ever, except for the lusting after hot actors thing and hating sports, I’m pretty boy-ish. Action films? Love them. Comic books? Adored! Video games? Errr, actually, they’re too complicated for me, but I’m sure if I had the time and the inclination, I would love them. Ladies? Think they’re gorgeous.
So why don’t I like boys’ fantasy Scott Pilgrim when I like Invincible and Chew and Arsenic Lullaby?
Because it’s the wrong kind of boys’ fantasy for me. Seriously, I have actually sat down and thought about this. (I was at work, so it’s OK.) Scott Pilgrim is the kind of comic book where two female characters (one of whom has a crush of Scott Pilgrim for some reason) get drunk and make out for no other reason than that’s what boys wish girls would do always. And that’s fine. It’s a boys’ fantasy book, I get that. It doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it, though.
That said, the stupid trailer looked really awesome and funny, probably because it is directed by the guy who directed one of my favorite love stories ever and the saddest zombie movie ever. (I don’t care what you people say; Shaun of the Dead is not a comedy. So! Tragic!!)
So now I kind of want to see it, and that really pisses me off.
Ever since my new hero, Whatsisname, quit his job in a barrage of swearing, stolen beers and emergency inflatable slides, I’ve been thinking. Actually, I was thinking before that and don’t accuse me of otherwise, but I’ve been thinking specifically of the best ways to quit your job. With as much carnage as possible, except without the killing of people, no matter how racist they are. (Seriously. Not a fan of racists, but on the scale of 1 to evil, “mass murderers” beat them out.)
So here’s a list of ways to quit your job well after your inheritance has come in/nobody has caught you after you robbed that bank/you begin your life as a con artist.
1. Place an obituary.
Not for yourself. For your job.
This job is dead to me. It is survived by a bunch of people who don’t like it, and even more people who would never do it. There will be no services, because this job is an asshole.
2. Put someone on hold.
So, that jerk who always calls to bitch about how bad your company sucks and won’t ever let him transfer you to, I don’t know, an editor or someone who could actually help him, is on the phone. Ask if you can put him on hold for a moment. If he agrees, put him on hold. If he refuses, put him on hold. Then calmly gather your things and walk out. Later, you should call one of your friendlier coworkers to find out how long that bastard stayed on hold before calling back to complain about how bad your hold music sucks.
3. If you’ve got the time and the money, a funny thing to do is piss off your supervisor.
Does your supervisor have a car? Does he leave it unlocked? If not, do you know how to pick a lock? If not, do you intend to learn? While you’re learning how to pick a car lock, take a break from the pursuit to write “I quit” and other personal messages like “the next time someone complains about me following procedure because they don’t like our policies, go ahead and try to write me up for doing my job, you ass,” on many, many, many sheets of paper. So many. Then, break into your boss’s car and leave the many sheets of paper in there. Also, if you can find one, a sloppy drunk.
4. More vandalism.
Spray-painting your office building is also a fun way to relieve your frustrations, especially if you get the outside and the inside. And that coworker who’s always grabbing your ass.
5. During one of those “State of the company” meetings.
You could even turn in into a bad comedy routine.
“Does anybody even care about the state of the company? Like, are we ever going to get raises again? Right? Am I right? You’ve got to ask yourself, ‘How does our CEO sleep at night?’ And the answer is: ‘Comfortably, on her piles and piles of money!’ Ha, ha! I quit!”
6. Slapping. Lots of slapping.
Slap everyone you’ve ever wanted exactly the way they deserve: like a herd of redheaded stepchildren and $10 hookers.
(As a coworker pointed out, I’m a big fan of the slap.)
7. Arson is always fun.
If you don’t feel like burning the whole place down (and for god’s sake, wait until the night custodians are gone, because what did they ever do to you??), lighting a few trash fires is good enough. If you don’t feel like announcing your imminent departure, I’m sure everyone will get the hint when you never return. Or they’ll think you died a tragic death in the flames, whichever.
8. Via adult message-gram.
Why not announce that you’re quitting and possibly get someone fired for sexual harrassment? Two words: Messenger. Bunny.
9. Place an obituary.
This time, it can be yours. Feel free to blame your job for your untimely and horrible death all you want.
10. Hop on a Jet Blue airliner, hijack it and slide down the emergency slide into your workplace where you tell your boss: “I quit.”
I think this one’s self-explanatory.
I want my innate superpowers to kick in now.
Seriously. I’ll take anything. Even the lame powers.
(Well, not some of the lame powers, Bouncing Boy.)
It’s just that television and movies and comic books had convinced me that, by this age, an alien race or somebody would have come up to me and been like, “Hey, Lokifire! You’re the only one that can save our race!”, and then I’d be off having space adventures and having steamy hot sex with space princes and using my superpowers.
Sure, there’d be times when I’d be tempted to give in and fall to evil, and hell, maybe I’d do it. I don’t know. (Actually, given my misanthropic view of humanity in general, I think I’d turn evil pretty quick, but let’s not share that with the authorities, ‘kay?) But the important thing, and I mean this is the important thing, would be: superpowers. Also the steamy hot space sex. That is also important.
In fact, screw the adventuring and the superpowers. Somebody deliver me a space prince, and stat.
So recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about the excellent Japanese light novel series, Boogiepop, and its inexplicable failure in the U.S. Then I thought, “Wait a minute, its failure isn’t that inexplicable. They named the damn hero Boogiepop. What the hell?” Which of course made me think I needed to do a list.
Here’s a list of superheroes who have really, really crappy names.
1. Boogiepop. What does Boogiepop sound like to you? Does it sound like that guy in your shop class who had a one-man band and played the didgeridoo? If it doesn’t, it sounds like the guy in your art class who had that experimental band with his barefooted girlfriend. In any case, Boogiepop does not sound like the embodiment of justice (or something) that randomly possesses teenage girls (or boys) to fight “enemies of the world.” And that’s a shame, because I think teens being possessed by an avenging hero makes for a great series, and I can’t read Japanese, so I don’t know what happened to the characters. Damn everything.
2. Eat Man. Eat Man is another Japanese superhero. Eat Man is kind of a stupid name. His superpower is the power to eat stuff and then transform his arm into the stuff he ate, which is really weird. Japan is really weird, though, so I guess this is to be expected.
And besides, Eat Man isn’t as lame as:
3. Matter Eater Lad. Matter Eater Lad’s super-moniker has a few issues right off the bat. 1) There’s the whole matter of using “lad” in his name. Seriously, what is this, the 1850s? Who goes by lad nowadays? Or even thenadays? 2) “Matter Eater” describes the thing he does, which is useful, I guess, but not particularly un-lame. Matter Eater Lad eats matter (which, doesn’t everyone?), but he doesn’t transform into anything. That’s a bit of a letdown, really.
4. The Whizzer. The Whizzer is a Flash-like character, because “Speedy” was already taken or something, I don’t know. (“Speedy” is also a stupid name, and especially for a hero who doesn’t have the power of superspeed.) We used to call our dachshund “The Whizzie” because dachshunds are incredibly lackadaisical about getting outside for their nature calls and much prefer to take care of business on the living room carpet. I just can’t respect a superhero whose name makes me think of my dog’s bad bathroom habits.
5. Dazzler. Every chance I get, I make fun of Dazzler. Why? Because I hate disco, that’s why.
6. Man Thing. Man Thing is Marvel’s answer to Swamp Thing, only with a much more hilarious name, and a giant-size issue to boot.
7. Squirrel Girl. Squirrel Girl always pops up on lists of people with lame superpowers, but I think having the power to control squirrels is better than some you could have. I can’t think of any specifically, but I’m sure there’s worse ones. Somewhere. Anyway, the name Squirrel Girl is too literal and makes me think she looks like a squirrel, kind of like Dorothy the Ape-Faced girl from the Doom Patrol.
8. Mr. Fantastic. Sure, he’s the leader of the Fantastic Four, which is nice for its alliterative balance, but Mr. Fantastic is just a dickhead name, and that’s all there is to it.
9. The Gay Ghost. Even back before gay meant gay and it meant, like, supra-happy, that’s still a pretty lame name for a superhero. Especially when you combine it with “ghost.” Add just one “r” to Gay, and you’ve got a much better superhero name: “The Gary Ghost.” Or The Gray Ghost. Whichever.
10. Bouncing Boy. Weird how there’s such an overlap of “lame names” and “lame superpowers,” but here we have Bouncing Boy, who is round and can bounce. That’s pretty much it.