An Increasing Need For Very Disposable Income

Holy Bat Bananas!!! I want one. Look at how CUTE he is! And he does really NEAT STUFF. And different ears can be bought to make him even cuter!

This would be a most effective way of informing Bug it's lunch time! And for rocking out!

Vital Breaking News

Quiana is probably the only person I know who will be geeked about this, so this post is dedicated to her. I'd like to note that this is not an apology for the ass.

There is a box of NKotB SUPER GLOSS photocards in the back room here. And stickers.

There is no panda happier than me.



Edit: Any and all disparaging comments regarding the fantasticness of this will result in the non-sale of comic books to you on Thursday. Watch it, I know your box numbers.

I'd Like To Thank The Perverts

I finally got a creepy porn search. Woman+Donkey Sex.

Thank you, Pervert-Who-Really-Needs-Real-Not-Donkey-Sex. I'm quite thrilled and now I feel like I officially have a blog.

I Have No Fidelity

Mondays and Tuesdays I'll be cheating on The Stop with . . . The Stop. Redmond Version. Stop in and see me if you can (also, spend money). I think it'll go super-awesome (so long as I stop acting like George, Brian and Jim and conquer the Scary, Scary Scanner) and I'm really looking forward to getting to play in that gorgeous store.

Seriously, if you haven't been in to visit yet, please do, it really is awesome. Um. Don't tell Lynnwood Stop, it'll get jealous and spend all day Wednesday harrassing me about how I don't take it out anyplace nice anymore and don't love it like I used to. Then it'll sabatogue me by eating the last box cutter. Sigh.

I'm Not Always Happy When I'm Right

Sky Dolls #1 is something that everyone should pick up. I found it adorable, the art gorgeous and fun and the writing embracing and hilarious. The characters are instantly attractive and interesting, the plot heads along at a nice pace and I'm very much looking forward to the next issue. At least snag the trade, people, this is as entertaining as Outer Orbit was, while having a distinctly more interesting and complex plot.

For months and months I have been looking forward to the first issue of Burn, and last week (or this week, I can't remember) it hit the shelves. I really love Camilla d'Errico's work--I have way too many of her prints up on my walls and have no plans of stopping. She's a great talent (you can recognize her from Nightmares and Fairytales where she started as the artist on issue 19) and is extraordinarily interesting and nice to boot. Also very busy.

Anyhow, I really enjoyed the art. And the story concept. I also really enjoyed the execution of the art, but less the writing. It's a first issue and from what I know, it's Scott Sanders first venture into published writing, so I'll give it a little bit to even out. I hope it does, though, because it could play out to be a great little six-issue book. Sanders' writing isn't terrible, but it's definitely superfluous in parts and a little clunky. Camilla's art does an excellent job of explaining what's going on and how the reader should feel about it, so any dialogue or thought captions should be sparing and vital. Sanders is a terrifically nice guy who does have a definite love for the story and comics in general, so I really hope his writing evens out and he hits the groove that gets hinted at throughout the first issue.

If you like manga, though, I recommend this for a read. I rec it even if you don't, but the audience it'll appeal to is definitely manga-first.

Titans #2 is complete rubbish. I thought it couldn't get worse, because I am a fool, and Winick did an excellent job of proving me wrong. Don't bother with it. I'm not letting myself go any farther with that because of the next review, that turns into a commentary on writing in comics.

There's spoilers ahead. Rampant. Beware. If you haven't read Robin #174 and would like to remain in the dark, head off.

. . . so. First, I would like to refer everyone here. And if you're still falling for it, shame on you. I'm certain there are an insane amount of people ecstatically happy that friggin' Stephanie Brown isn't really dead and I'm just as certain I am not ever going to be one of them. I hate to break in on any sunshine-happy-days, people, but this just looks like another device. A badly executed one at that.

Welcome to my disbelief.

Would Batman really not mention anything to Tim as for his reasoning behind not having a memorial for Stephanie the Plot Device Wonder? Really? Are you sure?

Would Batman really just welcome Stephanie back with complete open arms after telling her she wasn't good enough?

Can someone please pretend that this is the goddamn Batman and remember that he would at least throw some crazy-assed psychotic trial-by-fire at her before taking her back?

Why are the backgrounds behind Stephanie are magically colored? If I see one more damn pink panel I'm throwing up.

Technically-speaking, the build-up for the reveal took too long. By the time I got there, any suspense was gone. The reception played flat. The conversations were stiff and uninteresting, Tim's thoughts were amazingly non-reactive and I can practically see all of their puppet strings. It was all so forced.

But hey, maybe she can join the Teen Titans and get into three-way bitch fights with Wonder Girl and Ravager. Note: If there could be more scenes of Tim getting handcuffed by Ravager, I'd be the happiest Friday ever.

I understand the great big temptation for bringing this character back--she got a raw damn deal the first time around, was treated like crap and was basically an accessory for Tim's Great Big Angst. Don't mistake me here, I love Tim's Great Big Angst. But here's what I would have really liked to see and would have written if ever given the chance: A new girl. Not Spoiler. A new Gotham vigilante with an interesting back story that isn't she was a) raped b)pregnant c) used/abused by a man/father d)daughter of a villain (I am beyond sick to shit of this plot background) e) a hooker. One or two of these options added in? Totally okay if it's done right. Just please don't saunter up to the Buffet Of Abuses and over-fill your plate, Male Writer.

Mistakes like Stephanie Brown need to be left in the past. Taking a perfectly decent female character and turning her into a device is bad enough, but taking that perfectly decent deceased female character and bring her back is even worse. This is compounding the problem in not only women written in comics, but how comics are written in general.

The dead should stay dead except in very rare and very moving and very shocking cases. The more "amazing" resurrections there are, the less believable deaths are. The less believable, the less impact will be had. The rest of the road should be pretty obvious. This isn't a new concept, nor a particularly brilliant one.

So why does it need to be pointed out again? Are comic book fans really so lacking in their palette that they need to have the same regurgitated tripe fed to them over and over until they finally swallow the worm? Has the idea well truly run dry? Is doing something truly new really so terrifying a thing?

If comic book fans are lacking in their palette this severely, I recommend doing a very ballsy thing: Screw 'em. Write what is good. It's an "If you build it, they will come" sort of situation. Comic book fans are addicts and while some may be lost in the transition, most will stay true-blue after their "ohmygodchange" panic attacks and new ones will quite likely stray over.

When writing, the more walls built, the less creative the writing. Dixon has certainly demonstrated this to us via Robin, but I am seeing it nearly everywhere, in nearly every comic book. There is a fear of stretching beyond the accepted norm, a fear of embracing new characters and truly giving them room to grow so that the readers may grow with them. And I mean truly, not panicking when the 'numbers' aren't there and canceling or sabotaging the book.

I believe for that every four old characters, there should be a new one. Or when one dies, a new one enters. Something to ensure that some fresh blood gets pumped into the universes we all adore so much.

If this doesn't start happening on a consistent, believable level, ten years from now the comic book industry will discover they have some serious problems.

As it is, they have some serious problems now and I think I'll return to what was supposed to be the point of this entry and table that discussion for another day.

Stephanie Brown! I can't over-emphasize how unbelievable I find this all to be and because of that, I am also finding it insulting. As a woman who voraciously enjoys comics, I don't actually need a reward cookie in the form of a resurrected plot device who I found to be really, really annoying to begin with.

I wish I was overreacting because of my emotional investment and knew that in a few months I'd calm down about this entire thing and not erupt like Vesuvius every time this was mentioned. I also wish that I liked Supergirl. Or that I could look forward to the upcoming return of a Batgirl book, who is undoubtedly one of my favorite newer characters. Or that Power Girl interested me at all. Or that . . . well, anything not Wonder Woman or Birds Of Prey goosed my Happy Feminist Zones (note to self: name a blog that one day). Even THEN, there's this whole Manazon thing that just has me nauseous.

Stephanie should've gotten a memorial, because it doesn't matter what some people think about it, she was part of the Bat Clan. Even if she 'married' into it and sort of pushed her way in, imo, in regards to how Batman ended up treating her. But missing a character or really, really, really loving a character doesn't and shouldn't give people free reign to bring them back willy-nilly.

Argh.

This week I've discovered that I must have tea with Devin Grayson and discuss subtext and eroticism in length with her. New personal goal.

Visits Are Delicious

My baby brother flew in from Virginia today and is now on his way here. This is very super-awesome, since I haven't seen him since Thanksgiving.

Also: I'm still taller than him. Ha.

This only sort of happened

There will be comic book reviews later today/tomorrow morning. Until then, enjoy (and click to enlarge):




For other funnies, I highly recommend Elwood's Toy Stories. Clever bastard.

I CANNOT believe I forgot this

Seriously. This is one of the best con stories and I totally spaced it. It works out well though because this really does deserve its very own post.

During some quiet time on Sunday, Quiana and I were hanging out at the registration booth, mockingdiscussing various people wandering about and mucking about in the comfortable spinny chairs (that is their official name, btw). I turned to the right and saw a guy crouched down with his magnificently pale ass completely hanging out of his jeans. I threw up a little in my mouth and then did what any good friend would do, with a tone that mustered nothing but excitement.

"Hey, Quiana! Look at that."

And she totally, totally did.

I think she spent the next half hour calling me an asshole. It was glorious. Regrettably, I didn't manage to snag a picture.

Too Little, Too Late?

Last week imploded all over me. I'm not certain I'll ever get the messy Wednesday remnants completely out of my hair. Also not certain why my week imploded--aside from how when I got back to my house on Monday it looked like a complete disaster. My utter, complete shock was utterly and completely not there. On the up side, the kids didn't look like refugees who hadn't eaten or bathed in three days. But yeah, week implosion equals no blogging. I think I have all my ducks back in their appropriate rows. I think, at least.

Emerald City ComiCon was excellent, and blogged awesomely about here (scroll down to start at bottom) and here. I'm too lazy to string together full, cohesive paragraphs, so I'm going to list the awesome stuff out.

• handing out packets all day Friday and Saturday is an interesting way to achieve Zen. Repetitive action does wonders for the subconscious mind.
• Jeph Jaques? Freaking adorable. Also, constantly surrounded by a throng of girls. His girlfriend cannot be comfortable. She was quite nice, though, since she was the one who snagged the packet from me for their booth.
  
• The black jerseys all the senior staff got were completely awesome, even if they tended to put a huge bullseye on me whenever I attempted to escape to the bathroom on Saturday. Seriously--bathroom trips took no less than fifteen minutes and the bathroom wasn't more than a hundred feet from the registration booth.
• Notice To All Con Attendees: Information Booth doesn't mean I'll find your bus stop for you. It doesn't even mean I'll attempt to try. Information does not equal Seattle-Information.com.
• Dinner on Friday was accompanied with a bright green drink in a dual-faced tiki glass. He was very, very unhappy when he was empty. Weep. And it was almost as good as a mojito. Almost. So far, though, nothing's better than a good mojito.
• Quiana and I have almost exactly the same taste in foods. Except for . . . bak choi? Something--it's a weird mushy green vegetable that was not very delicious.
• Adding 'ish' to the end of directions prevents wrongness, according to Technogreek.
  
• I lose street cred when I want iced coffee instead of hot.
  
• Saturday morning-to-afternoon registration was insanely busy and chaotic, but overall it went really well. No big problems like last year and we managed to keep the line for check-in from getting too long. I might be insane, but it's also pretty fun. Even though lanyards are a special punishment from Hell.
  
• I learned that in case I need an extra hand at registration, Hotness is the first person I should find for help. She moves like a perky dervish without the destruction.
• I made a lot of awesome friends and was reminded that I really, really miss living in Seattle. Though there is awesomeness here in Puyallup that I need to contact and drag out for food and fun shenanigans.
• Wil Wheaton was insanely awesome to have at the show and everyone adored the crap out of him. He did completely break my heart by being super-popular and awesome and running out of books before I and a bunch of other volunteers could snag one. As soon as I recover, I'll still love him. Me? Masochist? Shut your mouth.
• Ed Brubaker's wife is beyond nice. And really funny and polite and oh, right, super-nice.
• Having dinner with a bunch of other volunteers on Saturday, exchanging funny stories and getting to know them better completely made my oh-so-pained feet feel better. As did the alcohol.
• We were walking back from said delicious dinner and got almost-accosted by a lady who really did look like she was from Walking Dead (she looked like she'd escaped from the hospital, as she was still wearing the gown and had various sores all over and was very, very, very thin. Very.) as observed by FerretNick. I was startled (and reminded that maybe I need to up my expectation standards) by Technogreek's awesome chivalry when he walked between me and the terribly sad and creepy Walking Dead lady. Much appreciated. Less appreciated are the doctors/nurses/terrible security persons who let her out of the hospital.
  
• FerretNick, Dr. Zoltar and their wives-who-have-no-blogs-but-should are really awesome. And hilarious.
  
• I'm too Irish.
• Having people freak out at me regarding the whereabouts of talent is not awesome. Having George effectively take care of pest problems with more politeness than I've seen in months while still saying 'Hell to the no, thanks for trying'? Definitely awesome.
  
• Freak outs over who got handed the check-in packets for booths? Not awesome. This means you, group of females I won't name who unsuccessfully attempted to drag me into their group drama over what turned out to be nothing. Note to you: remember high school is over!
• Suicide Girls? Awesome and really very nice, most of them.
  
• There were a pair of men who entered into the costume contest who were clothed in whitey tighties and suspenders. Nothing else. They blew glitter at people and one lit their other's chest hair aflame. And they needed a tan.
• The pinnacle of Creepy Basement Nerd asked to take a picture of my hair. From the back. While I was sitting down. This fetish is . . . indefinably creepy.
• I got stopped and thanked a lot for assistance I didn't always remember giving, but thanks to the blue-purple-etc hair, I know I wasn't easy to confuse with someone else. Also, they usually stopped me by name.
• Tim Sale prints sell like good street drugs.
• I forgot my sketchbook. Not. Awesome. At. All. Got no sketches. Also didn't remember to bring the few comics I stashed aside to get signed. Next year, I will not be forgetting any bags.
• Sunday, at the post-show dinner, Quiana and I were table hunting and I spotted one of our regulars at The Stop, Shane, and his boyfriend, the awesome and really very nice Steve Sadowski sitting, so I beelined over there because a) they're great and b) I was feeling way, way too much like a twelve year-old trying to find a cafeteria table. We sat down and there was the uber-fun FerretNick sitting with someone else who I spent fifteen minutes trying to drum up the name to go to the face, knowing I knew him and finally got some whisper assistance to get the job done. Thank you FerretNick. So, it was totally Phil Jimenez, who I totally adore and totally had Infinite Crisis and a few from his run of Wonder Woman in the Forgotten Bag Of Doom to get signed. I'll drop the word 'totally' now, but not awesome. There was really excellent conversation with all of them centering around comics and even dropping over to soap operas and it was all really, really awesome. I loved tossing around words with them and hope next year I'll get an opportunity to do it again. And? Phil is really, really one of the nicest guys in comics. And adorable. He gave me some really wonderful advice about breaking into comics via the written word that I'm beyond appreciative for too.
  
• Monday morning I got to revel in not having to get up at four am to drive people to the airport. I did have two very talkative backseat passengers at seven, though, one of whom took advantage of the fact that I missed him to hit me up for McDonald's pancake breakfast. Bratling.
• Being sad in front of Palindrome disturbs him. Even if he forgets about it entirely later.
  

I'm very certain I'm missing a few tidbit stories that'll occur to me later, but I think that's the highs and the lows. Overall, ECCC is definitely one of the highlights of the year for me, it was a lot of fun and the guys ran the best show yet this year.

I think that's long enough of a post. Welcome to my over-compensation for not posting at all last week.

Also: I think I'm sad. I'm not sure why and it's strange because I am very, very, very rarely sad. It's also annoying.

Help.

Could someone please stage a prompt rescue mission and eject Mr. Creepy "I Love the Navy" sweatshirt out of The Stop for me?

Brian? Merely taking the route of ignoring him and enjoying the fact that he isn't being harassed about stupid comic book questions.

Also? I'm certain he isn't going to spend any money.

Exhaustion is just another word for fun-times

ECCC was beyond excellent and there will be words later. Ones that are full sentences, almost intelligent and filled with extreme happy. Today isn't that day, however, due to my ridiculous Get Done Now list and inability to string together coherent ideas.

Instead, I bring you this (click to enlarge).




My life is a complete sitcom.