"I just want a moustache, man!"

So, last night, I found myself in the weirdest party environment. This dude got really drunk and then started apologizing to me for slavery. Keep in mind, I'd never met this guy before last night. He claimed he argued my case for his entire Christmas dinner because his family is backwards. I asked why they had such heavy Christmas dinner conversation. I think the worst part was when he said, "Dude, you're black! I'm so sorry." Yeah...

I feel like I should do some kind of year-end, best of 2007 post, but I also feel like I said all I needed to in my San Diego Saga. I mean, that was pretty much the highlight of my year, as far as adventures go. Anyway, I think I've got a few more things to say about 07, so here goes:

Top Albums of 2007:
Amy Winehouse - Back to Black
Lily Allen - Alright Still
Rihanna - Good Girl Gone Bad
Timbaland - Shock Therapy
The Pipettes -We Are the Pipettes (US Version)
Fall Out Boy - Infinity on High
Maroon 5 - It Won't Be Soon Before Long
Leona Lewis - Spirit

Honorable Mention
Britney Spears - Blackout
OneRepublic - Dreaming Out Loud
Mark Ronson - Version

Recent Books Read:
Love Monkey, by Scott Mebus: One of the first lad lit books, I was really disappointed by this one. The main character isn't very endearing, and the story meanders. 9/11 is thrown in for an emotional beat, and it lacks a fulfilling ending.

Don't Hassel The Hoff, by David Hasselhoff: If you love The Hoff, you'll love this book. The problem is that the ghostwriter clearly does most of the work, as British terms and spelling seem to trickle in a LOT. At times, it's hard to believe that Hasselhoff has such a lofty view of himself, but it's not cocky - he clearly means well, but it isn't conveyed as innocently as he would have liked.

Phone Sex, by Miranda Austin: Simply put, it's the autobiography of a phone sex operator. Not as entertaining as one might think. Interspliced are how-to tips for the aspiring phone sex caller (not operator!). It pretty much outlines the process for beginner/first-time phone sex customers. The book wasn't that juicy, nor did it have an ending. Plus, Austin's focus on the fact that she wasn't exactly attractive or anything like her persona kind of chipped away at the mystique. She pretty much confirmed the stereotype of phone sex operators as overweight and unattractive. It's like David Copperfield coming out and saying, "Hey, magic's fake!" Why shoot yourself and industry in the foot like that?

How I Paid for College: A Novel of Sex, Theft, Friendship & Musical Theater, by Marc Acito: Very good read. I try to stay away from fiction because I just don't really care for that in my books, but this one caught my eye by the cover alone. It didn't turn out like I thought it would, and I found myself wanting to shelve it early on. What I thought would be a cool, modern lad lit tale turned out to be about a mid-eighties story of a bisexual drama student as he struggles to raise his Juilliard tuition. I've got to say that I'm glad I stuck with it, as it's a pretty funny read. Like I said, not what I thought it'd be, but I'm not disappointed.

I just watched two of the most jingoistic movies of the past 30 years: Rocky IV and Starship Troopers. Rocky IV just screams "U! S ! A!", as it's steeped right in the middle of the Cold War. I always felt Apollo deserved to die , solely based on his bombastic James Brown-fueled ring entrance. No good could come from such an audacious start. Meanwhile Starship Troopers touts the difference between a citizen and a civilian. It's all about how your civic duty is to fight, and while the kids are all from Rio De Janeiro, that's an afterthought considering they all look like Abercrombie gringos. They should really sell these at Best Buy as a "God Bless America" two-pack.

Best New Shows:

Chuck (NBC)
The Big Bang Theory (CBS)

Favorite Movies of the Year:

Superbad
300
Grindhouse (only the Death Proof half)
Stardust
The Bourne Ultimatum
Black Snake Moan
Live Free or Die Hard
We Own the Night
Spider-Man 3
I Am Legend

You know, people look at me funny when I say this, but if you take out the whole "things come out at night to kill you" aspect, Will Smith's life in I Am Legend really ain't all that bad. I think what would drive you mad would be the possibility of survivors. If you notice, he was fine until all this "safe zone" talk. If you thought there was a chance there were others out there, you'd agonize over what might've been. But if you decide that you're the only one left, yet you might be able to cure the converted, that's a different frame of mind entirely. I already talk to myself, so adding mannequins to the mix wouldn't really change much. I've also wanted to speed through Time Square and use an aircraft carrier as a driving range. It all seemed so tranquil and peaceful. Sure, the rest of y'all would be dead, but "...spilled milk".


Celebrity of the Year: Britney Spears
Say what you will, no one got more headlines than this crazy chica, and it was a batshit crazy year! Anna Nicole died. OJ returned to his criminal ways. It took 3 months for them to do something with James Brown's rotting corpse. Lohan spent most of the year in rehab. Imus and the Nappy Headed Ho's. The Sopranos screwed us over with its "non-ending". Owen Wilson suicide attempt. Gay Political Airport trysts. A Negro headed for the Democratic nomination. Paris is probably going to lose most of her inheritance. But all of that was trumped by Britney. Anything the world could do, Britney could do trashier. No end in sight for a troop pullout? Who cares? Britney shaved her head! US dollar losing steam on the international landscape? Who cares? Britney's gonna lose her kids! Global warming's gonna kill all the polar bears? Who cares? Britney got fat and phoned in her VMA performance! It was a modern-day "We Didn't Start the Fire", and Britney was the chorus every time. If someone's keeping a scrapbook of her escapades, I'm sure they made MANY trips to the Walmart this year to stock up on photo albums!

Award of the Year: Myspace
It's been a big year for Myspace. They were purchased by Fox, gaining a new lease on life as an inexpensive form of movie publicity. Next, they threw their hat into the Presidential Debate ring. On a more personal note, however, Myspace was *very* good to me and mine this year. I know my boy, K-Bone would agree, as well as several others. In all honesty, I don't know where my social life or general entertainment would have come from without it. Now, to some people, that might sound sad, but to me, it simply demonstrates the awesome power of the internet. I know that for me and my friends, we salute you, Myspace.

2007 is also the year I started paying attention to song lyrics, so I leave you with this:

So take a bow,
'cause you've taken everything else
You played the part,
like a star you played it so well

I will have no problem leaving 2007 behind. Look for a new Will in the coming year. That's not a resolution; it's a promise.

See ya in '08...

Posted by William @ 12/30/2007 09:52:00 PM
permalink | 1 comments

"Where did you come from & are there others like you?"

So, on the last night of the con, Sunday, I had dinner with my friend Gina, and Keith tagged along for dessert. On the way back, we dropped Gina off at this top secret party thrown by Kevin Smith's View Askew folks; I swear there was a treasure map/scavenger hunt just for admission. Anyway, Keith and I were left to fend for ourselves for the evening's entertainment. Keith called his friend, Mark, and we ended up meeting back at a hotel bar downtown. We were all settling in, when we were introduced to Rachelle *cue glitter effect and cartoony harp music; throw the action into slow motion, just for good measure*, who'd be taking care of us for the night. Immediately, it was obvious that there was something about Rachelle. First of all, she carried herself so well. It's hard to convey in words, but she had this confidence, this air about her. Also, she played the role of gracious hostess, without any hit of boredom or condescention. She'd come through, with a simple, "What can I get for you, gentlemen?" and it was like time stopped. She really seemed pleased that we were there. And the feeling was mutual.

Now, Rachelle had this Kelly-Packard-post-California-Dreams look to her. She was an attractive girl, who just screamed "girl next door". We were all stupid and drunk, so we took a shine to her. Keith, most of all, seemed interested. We sort of had this plan to find him a wife in San Diego, as part of our ongoing quest to figure out our lives by grasping at grandiose straws. It sounds like hyperbole, and you'll think I'm full of crap, but she really was perfect. She was the that perfect girl you're always told is out there; the one where God broke the mold when He made her. She'd reinstill your faith in women. I can't reproduce the conversations of that night as they just flowed. She was witty, she could match you word for word, and she always seemed to find a way to surprise you. An hour into things, we all had a crush on this girl. I think I uttered something like, "Where did you come from, and are there others like you?" Yeah...

So, at that point, she actually pulled up a seat, and we learned about what she was studying in school, how she loved the beach, stuff about her hometown, etc. As the night wore on, she and Keith really did seem to connect. This was awesome, as I'm "Captain Vicarious", so it was like I had won, as well. Man, I really need to get a life, but we'll chalk this up as "Will being happy for his friend". When we were about to leave, Keith said something like, "You'd better be careful, 'cause I'll totally come back tomorrow night." She didn't seem fazed, and said that he should definitely come back. She told him the hours she'd be there, and that she hoped to see him again. We're all being stupid, obnoxious jerks as we're high-fiving him, and debating whether or not he should actually go back the next night.

Well, the next night, Keith and I decided to try out the SD bar scene. We went to this place whose name I can't remember, but we have a picture online somewhere. Anyway, they seemed to be having some kind of private party that we managed to get into, but we realized all of the women were engaged. All of them. WTF?! I've found that every woman in SD is hot, tattooed (I swear, every woman had a tattoo!), and married. Well, we got bored with that pretty soon, so we started thinking about what to do next. That's when we remembered that Rachelle would be working. Now, I was really starting to adhere to that whole "You can't go home again" philosophy. I don't know if it's my disdain for plans, or me just being bitter, but I never feel like those situations end up like you want them to. If we'd just run into her, that would be one thing. But the whole thing was just too...premeditated for my liking. But I was drunk, and we had nothing better to do. So, we start heading in the direction of that hotel. Here's where you might want to start paying attention, 'cause it's a doozy:

While we're walking, we realize we don't have a camera. For some reason (maybe this blog), I start to think that we need a picture with her, or no one will ever believe the story. Yeah, THAT makes sense. Well, we now had to get a camera to remember this forever. We get to the hotel, and there's this guy leaning against the outside wall, smoking. Now, if we're judging a book by its cover, he seemed kind of like the jerky frat guy. Probably has a string of girls whom he treats like shit, while he prefers to hang out with his bros. Anyway, we're drunk and we need help, so I ask him "Do you know if there'sa drug store or 7/11 nearby". Oddly enough, he was cool and directed us to a 7/11 nearby. We walk the couple of blocks to the store, we get caught in the maelstrom of the locals stocking up on cigs and soda before the next bus comes along. We finally get the camera, check out, and walk out the door.

Now, I need to explain something else: Keith had had Lasik about a month prior to our trip to SD. They'd screwed up, and the surgery didn't take, so he was in a sort of "holding pattern" as they waited to see if the eyes would straighten themselves out. He could get by, in that he wasn't going to walk into traffic or anything, but he couldn't make out features or details. So, I was constantly describing things and women to him. He'd see the outline, realize it was a girl, and ask, "Ooh, is she hot?!" Got all that?

OK, well, as we're leaving the 7/11, Keith's looking across the street to the next block, and he asks, "Ooh, is she hot?!" I was busy opening the camera, so I look up and mutter: "It's her. Fuck." Crossing the street, directly at us, is Rachelle in street clothes. She's no longer the classy, hostess with the mostest. She's still attractive, but she's wearing jeans and a t-shirt. And walking, with his arm around her, is fratboy smoker guy who'd directed us to the 7/11 in the first damn place! He'd been waiting for her. It was too poetic to be fake. We'd been crossed by our own savior. So many emotions at once. How was someone so perfect with this guy? Stock dropping rapidly....She didn't even see us, nor did he seem to acknowledge us. They passed us by, and she, out of our lives. I felt really bad for Keith, 'cause I really did want that unrealistic Hollywood ending. It really wasn't about me anymore, but I just wanted to witness the whole thing. I wanted the ability to say, "I was there." But that wasn't to happen. Because life doesn't work like that. To quote The 40 Year Old Virgin, "You can't put pussy on a pedestal". And that's why you have to live in the moment, take every experience for what it is, and you can't build castles on quicksand (yeah, I was going for two California Dreams references in one post; sue me!). Keith was great about it and just kind of laughed it off. That's the kind of guy he is, and I hope I can learn to do that one day. In any case, I cursed for a couple of blocks until we came up with the grand plan to explore San Diego's strip clubs. I'm gonna leave that story for another day, as it's really Keith's story, and being the master storyteller that he is, I could never do it justice. I will say, however, if you're in the San Diego area, and you know a redhead with "Danger" tattooed across her lower back, e-mail me!

Keith and I continued to have a few crazy adventures those last few days. We ended up at the beach one day, where Keith and his "mystical connection to the water" forgot to put on enough suntan lotion. You've heard of sunburn, but he got sun poisoning. It wasn't even apparent until about 12 hrs later. The worst part was that we were flying home the next day, which became an unbearable experience for him. The skin behind his knees was raw, so while sitting on the plane, these areas would start to heal, but when he stood up, the wounds would rip open again. His dealt with this for weeks after our return. He was like a blind leper. I probably should've just shot him to put him out of his misery. But it had taken so long to get home that I think we were just glad we made it back.

What happened, you ask? Well, when we got to the airport in SD, we were told that our flight was at least 2 hrs late, due to storms in the midwest. We're waiting for our flight, while Keith just wants to die from the sun poisoning pain. We finally get on the plane, and it has a layover in Phoenix. We don't deplane, but it sits on the runway for over an hr. Now, Diamond had arranged a shuttle for us, based on our being back to BWI at midnight. Well, with the unexpected delays, and empty promises that "we'd make up the time in the air", we didn't get a chance to call the shuttle. Not to mention the fact that I realized they had scheduled my shuttle for a day earlier. So, not only was Keith going to be late for his shuttle, there was no guarantee that there was even going to be room for me. Well, we land at 3 AM and the shuttle's not there. We call the place, but there's no answer...because it's 3 AM. So, we find a Super Shuttle, and I start to haggle. I get him to agree to take us to Timonium for $40 because "that's all the money we have". Man, were we about to get hosed. The guy agrees to take us, but he has to drop someone off first. We're fine with that.

Now, stay with me for this geography: BWI is in Baltimore, but this drop off was near Columbia, about 35 miles in the opposite direction of where we need to go. But we didn't know that before we got on. We drop the guy off, no problem. Then, about 5 minutes away from the drop-off, the shuttle gets a flat tire. So, we pull off to the side of the road, but the driver doesn't have a flashlight, so he's doing this by the light of the moon! Plus, his jack won't lift the shuttle high enough, so his master plan is to release enough air from the spare so that he can slip on the spare. This whole process takes about an hr. Once he gets the spare on, he realizes he had let out too much air, and the spare was going flat. So, he uses the GPS to find the nearest gas station. When we find it, it's closed...because it's 4:00 AM. We manage to get to another station, and he fills the tire. We finally get back to Diamond at 5:30. And we had to go to work that same day. I'd laugh if my entire life wasn't exactly like the scenario I just decribed. People keep telling me I'll win one day. We'll just have to see about that...

So, what did we learn, kids? San Diego's awesome, but Comic Con is pretty overwhelming. It's something that you really only need to do once in your life, but also take time to explore the city. Why? Because's everybody's hot, and the weather's beautiful. The most important thing I learned was that whole "live in the moment" philosophy. I can't say I've adopted it, plus it takes a whole lot of alcohol and "what have I got to lose?" attitude, but I've certainly acknowledged its validity. I think that's something we could all take into '08. And that, my friends, is the story of how the West went West.

Posted by William @ 12/21/2007 06:06:00 PM
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"I'm having a total goth moment. Everything I see, I either want to kill it or fuck it."

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y NIGHT!

Sorry for the Bay City Rollers, but I needed to get us in the mood.

So, on the Saturday of the show, Keith and I weren't sure what we were going to do. We'd already put in for vacation time so that we could have a few extra days in SD once the show was over. That said, we kinda wanted to "case the joint" to find cool places to spend our extra days. Well, we changed out of our "papaya"-colored (don't blame me; blame the catalog!) Diamond shirt, and we'd just thrown on some clothes when Rob called and asked what we were doing for dinner. He was planning on going to this goth-industrial party called X-Sanguin that's held every year near the end of the show. His friend Susan invited him (you have to meet this girl; she's like sex wrapped up in skin), but he always kind of dangled it in our faces, in that "I don't watch television" way of his. So, we were helping him kill time while Susan got ready. We end up at this Mexican place staffed entirely by Russians. Yes, Russians.

Sidebar: I went to Russia. I was an exchange student. My first kiss was a Russian. I love White Russians. And the drinks are cool, too. So, whenever I'm in an environment with Russians, I get stupid. I know enough of the language to get by. I skipped the whole chapter of "Would you like to come back to my hotel room?" or "Do they test for STDs at the embassy?" (Why do guide books have these chapters? Has anyone ever gotten laid using the "How To Hit On Women In Their Native Language" chapter of these tour books?!). I find I can get by with the general "It's nice to meet you; my name is Will; How are you?" combo. After all, it's a black guy speaking Russian. Might as well be a frog singing vaudeville. I'm a conversation piece, baby! End of Sidebar

So, we get seated by this brunette who is just...smokin! I mean, she looked like she had dressed for the club, but had been called into work at the last minute. All black clothes, tramp stamp, chain belt, the works. Keith and I were smitten, while Rob was playing it cool - he's practically married anyway. So, how do we talk to her? I breezed through all the ice breaker stuff that I knew, and it was good, but not good enough. Keith tries the whole, "We're from out of town, and we're looking for cool places to hang out" angle. She responded, "Vell, I like to go klahbbing". She rattles off this list of "klahbs" she likes, but we already know they're too exclusive for us. I think Keith asked her if she was going clubbing later that night, but she said probably not since she'd have to work until 4 AM. Oh well...

At this point, Rob checks in with Susan, and decides to ask if she could get extra tickets to the party. Keith and I were interested, but caught off guard. You see, we looked like fratboy douchebags who were setting up a kegger. It wasn't even crush party wear. Keith was wearing a gray Hanes t-shirt, some jeans, and flip flops, while I had a light blue button-down and cargo pants. This was not goth wear. Rob, on the other hand, had a blood-maroon button down and black pants; he was good to go. There was good and bad news: Susan had extra tickets, but we were late and had to immediately go pick her up. We felt we were WAY underdressed, but Rob had to go, so we followed.

Allow me to explain a bit more about this party. It's held annually, in an abandoned church (The Abbey), and there's always a theme. This year's theme was Post-Industrial Russian Military. And you're supposed to dress for the occassion. It's also one of those parties where you're bound to see some freaky shit, and what happens at X-Sanguin stays at X-Sanguin. The people on the list (who'd been planning for a year), were mailed a case containing a faux scan card, as well as a temporary tattoo in a modern hammer & sickle motiff. To gain entrance, you must wear this tattoo someplace on your person. The tame will go for the obvious: arm, cheek, back of hand, while the freaky will go for the daring: bikini line, inner thigh, other.

We get to Susan's hotel room, and Ms. Sex-In-Skin is wearing this cute little military outfit, looking like the naughtiest soldier in the history of the Russian military. Her friend was just as hot, while Keith and I looked like we were there to egg the place as a hazing ritual, with Rob as our vampiric suitemate. Then, there was the hilarity of the tattoo application. Keith put his on his cheek, while I went for the inner wrist. Like a moron, I messed mine up because my ID bracelet rubbed it off before it dried. Rob messed his up because he forgot to take off the backing, so he tattooed his tattoo to its own wrapper. Susan was getting pissed because she didn't have any more, so we were going to have to make do with the tattoos we'd messed up. Not off to the best start.

We could tell that Susan and friend seemed a bit upset that we weren't dressed, but we'd been assured that not everyone dressed for this thing. Well, everyone who wanted to have a good time did dress for it. We almost didn't get in, as my tattoo was pretty smudged, but they vouched for me. Susan and friend proceeded to ditch us almost immediately. Keith and I were trying to be optimistic, but we were pretty much sidelined from the beginning. The characters parading into this place were like something you'd find if Tim Burton had directed 300. From women on stilts to gorgeous fire eaters, we knew we didn't fit in. But, Lord, did we try!

There was one little blond who was dressed as a sexy Russian nurse. Her uniform was strategically ripped, in order to show you where she'd hidden her tattoo. She was trying to dance, but she was terrible. Oh well, at least you're cute. Then, she got a hoola hoop from a guy on the floor, and she worked it like she had to feed a hungry baby back at home (I mean, City High might as well have been playing in the background)! My God, this woman had everyone in a trance. And she moved and swayed for what felt like years. Let this be a lesson: chicks who can't dance might be able to hoola, and that's SO much better!

Keith fell in love with this fire dancer who reminded him of a character in one of his stories (he's a writer, btw; search "Keith Davidsen" on Amazon!). He spent the night trying to track her down, while also chatting up folks at the bar. We tried to get drunker, but it wasn't setting in. We were determined to have a good time at this thing, but they just didn't want it. I'm sure it dripped with desparation, but we were so sure that we were always minutes from a 12-person orgy. It was in the air. They were those kinds of folks. But we weren't dressed for the occassion. It's weird being outcast by a group considered to be outcasts themselves! You're standing there like, "I'm a good guy! I like comics! Look, Khakis!" And they're looking at you like, "I like pain! Punch me in the face, and drink my blood! Let's invite the dark gods into our intimacy." We'd try to dance, and not even grinding shit, but their earth sisters and whatnot would box us out. We soon lost Rob, and we realized our own friends didn't want our stink to rub off on them. So, we eventually packed it in and headed back towards the hotel.

Not really feeling like a cab, and pissed off at the goths, we decide to walk. Now, I just Mapquested that distance, and it's supposedly only 2.31 miles. Well, we must've taken the long way, because I know it took us a good hour and a half to get back to familiar territory. In fact, I think we took the worst route ever, as we were deep in the neighborhood part of SD, and it couldn't have been a great area because there were a lot of Jack in the Box and Denny's. And it was almost 1 AM. And we're walking.

Now, it needs to be said that we were kind of turning on each other because we were kind of pissed at the outcome of the night, and we needed to blame someone. So, we blamed each other. Not sure what we expected, but what we got wasn't it. At this point, the alcohol was finally starting to set in, and Keith's getting paranoid. Because we're in this unknown area, his eyes start darting around, in case a knife-wielding hobo jumps out at us. Somehow, in our drunkeness, we made a pact to keep our eyes open for vagabonds and derelicts; if we noticed one, we were to run and not look back. Yeah, no real solidarity there. "Shit, a hobo! Peace out!" Hey, it made more sense when we were drunk. We knew our limits. How could we fight off a hobo with nothing to live for? We'd just struck out against Hot Topic'ers. How the hell were we gonna defeat a mugger?

Our night then just degraded into standard, boring fare you could get at home. We ended up walking back through the Gaslamp District, and we needed an ATM. It was 2 AM, and we conveniently found a machine at the door of the Mexican place we'd been to earlier. As luck would have it, our waitress was still there. Maybe the night wasn't a wash! Maybe she'd want to hang out when she got off. We said "hi", and I swear she looked at us like we were INS! She wanted nothing to do with us, and acted liked she'd never even seen us before. Yes, I understand she deals with a bunch of less-than-memorable people per day, but damn! As Mystery would say, never fall for the "hired guns". Anyway, after that awkward encounter, we ended up in Ralph's (The Wegman's of the West) and grabbed a bunch of shit to drown our sorrows. Seriously, that was one fucked up grocery trip. I think we had Doritos and parfait (I think I'm the only sucker who falls for the supermarket parfait) and goulash and I think Keith was thinking aout buying one of those rotisserie chickens. The workers must've thought we were the biggest stoners around. But we weren't high on drugs; we were high on goth, and we were coming down hard!

Recently, the pictures from the show were posted online:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/freaksnightout/sets/72157601439586633/

It's amazing how hindsight is 20/20. I looked at all of the "hot people", and find myself thinking, "Wow, you were so much hotter in the dark". Either I was caught up in the moment, or their dark pact with Satan doesn't carry over to photographic representations. Anyway, I don't think I've heard from Susan since then, and I never did find out if that "More-gy" took place...

Tomorrow's Chapter: "Where did you come from & are there others like you?" The Double-Sized Grand Finale!

Posted by William @ 12/20/2007 06:27:00 PM
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"This is bullshit!"

As I said yesterday, Hollywood has made SDCC its playground, so much so that many of the events and panels leave people asking, "What does this have to do with comics?". Sometimes, it makes sense. They had Nic Cage, because Ghost Rider had just come out on DVD, plus he had a comic coming from Virgin. They had Gwenneth Paltrow and other cast members from the upcoming Iron Man movie. They even had Stan "The Man" Lee. At the other end of the spectrum, they had the cast of the Sarah Silverman Program, they had assorted cast from Grindhouse, and they were promoting upcoming shows for ABC Family (many of which are already cancelled as I write this!).

Well, this is probably the first post to get me sued, but I had to cross that lne eventually. Here are a few of my most memorable celebrity moments from the show:

Joe Quesada: For those not in the know, Joe Quesada is the Editor-in-Chief of Marvel Comics, home of Spider-Man, Captain America, and the X-Men. Before coming to Marvel, he designed the Bruce Wayne-replacement Batman in the '90s, and he co-created Painkiller Jane (of the recently cancelled Sci Fi Channel show). Joe has been a controversial figure, as he's the guy that many fans love to hate. A lot of that is due to his accessibility. It's not that he's done anything wrong, bu with the advent of the internet, he's a lot easier to bash. People have criticized him for everything, from his business decisions to his weight. I've always liked the guy, and don't really hold his business decisions against him. There's no such thing as bad publicity, and he's proven that.

I met him at the Baltimore Comic Con a few yrs ago, and while he wasn't doing sketches, I convinced him to give me his signature at the size of a sketch page. That was good enough for me. Now, Joe used to be very large. I mean, "I'm scared for this guy if he doesn't get ahold of himself" large. So, I was shocked when I saw him at SDCC, because he's lost well over 50 lbs. The sad thing is that I didn't even run into him until the mens room. I'm at the urinal, and I notice, "Shit, Joe Q's peeing next to me!" Once again, I've got the fanboy thing under wraps, so I know not to say anything. Especially not in an environment where we're both holding our junk. That just ain't kosher. Oddly enough, this dude came in, and DID say, "What's up, Joe?", as Joe was handling business. I was thinking to myself, "God, have you no decency?", but it turns out this was a Marvel guy, and Joe was cool with it. We ended up washing our hands at the same time, and I said "hi" at that point. He responded. No harm, no foul. Yeah, no dirt for ya there, kids...

Bendis: Brian Michael Bendis is probably my favorite comic writer. He's the first writer whose books I bought because he wrote them. Before, I was buying X-Men because it was X-Men. Spider-Man because it was Spider-Man. Before I knew it, I was buying Avengers because it was Bendis. He's just got a knack for dialogue. Anyway, after meting Frank Cho and Jim Lee, I felt that the only person left that I was dying to meet was Bendis. I didn't even realize he was signing until it was too late. Our schedules were booked with meetings, so it's not like we got a lot of free time on the con floor. I got into the Bendis line 3 people after the guy holding the "last person in line" sign. Honorably, I got out of line and waited off to the side. I knew people who knew people, so I was trying to see if I could still meet Bendis at some point over the weekend. In the meantime, I notice more and more assholes getting in line, despite the guy holding that sign. I guess it didn't apply to them if they didn't acknowledge it. Like a trooper, Bendis sat there and signed all of there books, regardless of the fact that he was supposed to be elsewhere by that point. Well, being as stubborn as I am, I just waited. MTV came over to interview him when he was done, and I just stood right there, off to the side. 20 mintues later, when he was done, I finally went over and introduced myself. I somewhat slipped into me, "You're so awesome" trance, but it was all true, and he was a really nice guy. I didn't ask him for an autograph because I already bought one years ago (yes, I'm a sucker), and it really wasn't about that. I really just wanted to meet him. Met the guy who opened my eyes to creators. Mission accomplished.

Ben Templesmith: Ben is one of the cocreators of 30 Days of Night, which tore up theatres back in October. He's a gracious, friendly guy, and it was great meeting him. I'd actually asked him to do an indie profile that we were running in Previews, and I just wanted to thank him for participating. Once again, great guy.

Frank Miller: Ah, Frank Miller. Creator of 300, Sin City, Dark Knight Returns, the Robocop screenplay, and the "Goddamn Batman". Frank's a bit of an enigma. I saw him briefly, as he left one of the Hyatt bars. He looks kinda like Tim Burton's crazy uncle, as he wear all black, but tops it of with a fedora, like he's friggin' Carmen Sandiego or something. Funny enough, he rolls with a posse. I swear, he had his own dark entourage quickly whisking him out of the joint. Well, he looked like he'd had a rough night. I wanted to closer look, but I got distracted when Brian Posehn from the Sarah Silverman Program walked by. I thought I might get a chance to see Sarah...

Elvira: Mmm....the "Mistress of the Dark". As campy as she might be, she'll always remind me of the 80s and liquor stores. She and Spuds McKenzie will go down in history as the best friends of the 80s beer industry, and I think Elvira was one of the first hot, naughty girls a lot of us were introduced to. Well, E has aged. I saw her from afar, and wished I'd stayed back. She's not bad, per se, but you really don't wanna get too close. I mean, even Bettie Page was rough when she got old. The breasts still look racktacular, though!

Thomas Jane: The Punisher. Well, he punished something all weekend, and I think it came out of a paper bag. He was there promoting his Image comics, Bad Planet and Alien Pig Farm, but he was always so animated. At times, it just seemed like he was the life of the party, while at other times it was clear that he was WASTED! His booth was right next to ours, so I had a good seat for the Thomas Jane craziness. Some days, he'd throw these balsa wood airplanes just to see who/what they'd hit. Then, he started running up and down the aisles, like he was racing an invisible friend. I also think the timing had something to do with things: you see, the studio chose this weekend to announce Jane's replacement in the role of Punisher: Ray Stevenson, of HBO's Rome. And it seemed like it was news to him. Yeah.

One night, he came through one of the Hyatt bars, chomping on a cigar (you can't smoke anywhere in CA, btw), yelling, "This is bullshit!" He kept yelling it, while jumping on the backs of chairs, trying to get the bartender's attention. He'd give up, jump down, and start flailling around in his Hawaiian shirt, "This is bullshit!" Finally, some brave asshole asked, "What's wrong, Punisher?" Jane goes on to yell, "They were gonna give me $1.5 mil to do Punisher 2, but the script was shit! It was shit!" A handful of douchebags encircled him, and they were faux cheering him on, like, "Right on, Punisher!" and "Fuck them!" Little did he realize that they were laughing at him and not with him. He flailed a little more, and then stumbled out the door, where I last saw him chatting up some blonde. This exchange would later be described, albeit briefly, in a Wizard article about some completely unrelated comic creator.

Jenna Jameson: That's right, folks. THE Jenna Jameson. You see, Virgin Comics (Ha! I couldn't make this stuff up!) is releasing a comic starring Jenna. I can't even really tell you what it's about. It's not a confidentiality thing - I just really don't know what it's about. From what I can tell, it's Witchblade, starring Jenna. It's such a funny project because everyone expects one thing, seeing as how she has this naughty background, but I think they're going to end up with something else entirely. Most of the people in line were like, "Jenna, I have all your videos. Oh....you have a comic? That's cool...".

Anyway, she was at the show for a signing. Rob and I had had a meeting with Bahrat, Virgin's head of marketing, the day before, and I'd hinted that I wanted to meet Jenna. Hell, she's the biggest porn star of all time! Anyone would want to meet her, and I wanted to get as much out of that trip as possible. So, Bahrat told us to come by the booth at noon, and he'd see what he could do. We missed noon because of meetings, but one of the managers on our toy team had actually met Jenna's manager earlier in the day. Toy Team Guy is gruff and burly; a real man's man. The toy/merchandise team is always getting porn samples, as we list that stuff in Adult Previews, and I hear he gets all of the hardcore samples. The guy knows his stuff, so when he met Jenna's manager, they hit it off and made plans to have drinks with Jenna after her signing. Well, the word spread, and I tagged along with their group, as I was determined to meet this woman. So, we diligently hung off to the side until Jenna was done with her signing. I even took some time to visit her neighbor, James Hong from Big Trouble in Little China (AKA "That Old Chinese Dude From Every Movie in the Eighties"). Once it was over, the manager led us over, and we all got to meet her and have our pictures taken with her. She also signed this big-ass poster of the cover of her comic (I've got to remember where I put that thing...).

She's hot, but she's so tiny. If you've ever seen Jenna stuff from her heyday, she was the porn star with curves. Not quite Anna Nicole, but she wasn't small. With all of the drama in her life recently, from her divorce to her cancer diagnosis, it seems like it may have taken it's toll. Don't get me wron: she's ripped, with a six pack and everything, but it's such a drastic change. Anyway, she was really cool, and I'm happy that out of the 13 pictures that CVS was actually able to develop, this meeting was one of them. The funniest part was watching Toy Guy as he met her. This is a guy who's a former Marine, and I'd bet money that he has taken lives with his bare hands, but he was stuttering and giggling like a fool. I think it brought us closer. After we met her, I asked, "Toy Guy, would you be my new dad?" His response? "Only if you call me Mr. Drummond." And to this day, I call him Mr. Drummond. It was worth it.

Epilogue: As we're giddily leaving Jenna, I notice this HOT chick rushing across the floor in her direction. Wearing short shorts, she had legs for days, and once my eyes traveled a week north, I realized who it was: Rosario. This was the day after our meeting, and I was still feeling stupid about my whole "I fell in love with you" thing. Also, though, she was GORGEOUS. The night before, I was drunk and she was accessible, but now she was the hottest girl in school, wearing the shortest pants not allowed by dress code, and she was eager to meet the world's biggest porn star. I wanted to run up to her, saying, "Remember me? It's Will West! Cool name guy!" But I'm learning to just live in the moment. All that shit about how life's about the journey and not the destination. I'd had my Rosario moment and that was it. No need to get a restraining order placed against me. I walked off just as I saw them hug, pictures of which showed up in various publications.

Tomorrow's Chapter: "Everything I see, I either wanna kill it or fuck it!"

Posted by William @ 12/19/2007 05:23:00 PM
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"In fact, I think I fell in love with you..."

Now, one of the biggest things about Comic Con is that abundance of parties. Now, people count out comic folks because we're all social outcasts, too afraid of the outside world, so we hide in our moms' basements, drowning ourselves in superhero fantasies. Don't you hate that shit? It's the same way I hate how any mainstream article about comics *must* contain "sock", "bam", and/or "pow". Do they even use those sounds in comics anymore? I think I saw a "Splurgghh!" the other day, but digress...

Due to the show's proximity to LA, plus the fact that the show is becoming Hollywood's playground, there are a ton of pretty high profile parties. The beauty of it for me was that I was on all of the lists. Surprisingly, they were pretty hardcore with the door security at these things. You'd think fans would be a bit craftier with their attempts to get in to these things, but most of them just had no creativity. Hell, I took my friend, Rob, to a party and he wasn't on the list. We just told them he was my boss, who happened to be on the list, and they let him in. No ID needed or anything. Pwned!

Anyway, the party we went to was thrown by Oni Press, publishers of the incredible Scott Pilgrim series, as well as Whiteout (with upcoming movie starring Kate Beckinsale). So, I knew that the party was cohosted by a talent agency, but I didn't really know their rle in things. We get inside, and it was almost like nobody inside knew this was "a comic thing". Everyone was hot, but in that NYC way. It was one of those "see and be seen" parties, where the only Black dude has a British accent, and he's the DJ, while there are a bunch of too-cool-for-school Asians, and a lot of trendy White kids. There wasn't a lot of dancing, even though there was danceable music. It was like we were playing Rhythmic Chicken: who's gonna dance first? In other words, it was awesome! Let's get something straight: I've always been an elitest on the outside of the system. I love a good, elite, meritocracy, but I've never really cut the muster to be in taht crowd. But now I was on the list! I could be snooty, too! Fuck you, little people!

So, Rob and I are drinkin' our dranks, taking in the scene, when I notice somebody. Holy shit, that's Jonah Hill! "Rob, did you see Jonah Hill?" Rob, of course, answers with a "Who?'. Let me explain something about Rob. Great guy, but he's the dude who'll tell you he doesn't watch television because he really wants to drive the point home. Say you're not familiar with the guy. Say you've never heard of Superbad or seen the ebay store scene in The 40 Year Old Virgin. But don't give me the, "I don't watch television" speech that I've heard a million times before, in that "Sorry, moron, I have a life" tone of yours. Ugh...So, anyway, I saw Jonah Hill. And the next thing I knew, I saw McLovin' trailing through the crowd before him. Now, I'm kind of geeking out, but we need to remember something: A) it's a cool party, so you've got to act like you don't see them and B) I've been learning to deal with my starstruck problem in these settings. Back in Feb, I went to the New York Comic Con for work, and I ended up at a party full of every popular comic pro of the last 15 yrs. I almost had a heart attack, but Rob was pushing the whole, "Play it cool, man" angle (a lot of this is based on the fact that he didn't even know who most of the people were). Anyway, after a few beers, a conversation with the Wizard editors, and a dance circle with Olivier Coipel, I got out all of my professional fanboyness. So, now that we're in SD, it should've been OK, but these were actors. As far as cons go, the only people who know those professionals are comic people. To the fat black lady at the check cashing/takeout joint, Jim Lee is just "that Asian dude" (and that's if she's feeling nice), while Jonah Hill would be "Oh, it's that little fat boy from that movie where they tryin' to get some pussy!" See? Universal appeal. Anyway, for this reason, the fanboy bug started creeping up, but I let it pass. "Be cool, Will", I told myself. "They'll come back around and we can just say 'hi'."

Rob and I continue taking in the scene, when Masi Oka came through. Holy shit, it's that dude from Heroes! And then, Sylar came through. Now, I have a confession to make: I've never seen Heroes. Yes, I know it's comic-based, and I'll love it, and blah, blah. This is the same crap people try to say when I tell them I never saw Firefly. Either way, I just don't ahve time for episodic television. Damn, I sound like Rob. Anyway, I've followed the show enough that I know I've got to save the cheerleader, or the world's fucked. I also know there's the teleporting Asian kid. And, apparently, Sylar's an evil asshole, even though he looks just like that guy in high school who might be gay 'cause he's so metro, and all of his friends are girls, yet you've heard stories about all these chicks he fucked at his last school. Again, I digress. The media have looked to Heroes as the thing that will legitimize comics. If viewers can get onboard with its storytelling, then it might introduce the joy of comics to the nonbelievers. So, the cast members are basically missionaries, and they were gracing us with their presence at this party. The Superbad guys slipped in somewhat unnoticed, but the fans took to the Heroes like rednecks to NASCAR. I think I gave Sylar the "what's up" nod, but I really didn't have much more to say to him. I'd never seen the show, and San Diego was already revealing a side of myself that I didn't like: the empty gesture schmoozer. I was telling people I liked their stuff when I didn't, telling people I'd read their stuff when I hadn't. When I meet a person, I don't really remember their name or anything. I'm most concerned with what impression I'm making upon them. There'll be time for names and counting when the dealing's done. Recently, though, I notice I go into this stupid trance of, "Thanks SO much, I really love your stuff" to all of these pros, when I really want to just say, "Yeah, it's good, but what the Hell was up with that Clone Saga?" Anyway, long story short, I acknowledged their presence, but I didn't geek out about it.

After a bit, Rob left to head for another party, while AI was doing shots with the bartender. Not sure where I picked up the notion that I could pull that off, but tequila solves all ills. So, I'm stumbling back to the hotel, as I'm staying at the center of all afterparty entertainment. The Hyatt bar is known as THE place to be when the night's entertainment is done. Until about 4 AM every morning, you can find the likes of fans and creators alike, causing more noise than that found in Time Square during rush hour. Well, I get back to the Hyatt, and I hang outside awhile with some people I know. It's at this point that I notice a converastion off to the side. You see, it was Lee (really cool guy who always wears a stray cowboy hat), and he was having a conversation with a really cute girl. Like I said, I'd had a bit to drink, so I wasn't as hesitant as I can be at times. Hell, "at times"? I talk myself out of most things...Anyway, I kind of walk around to get a better look at this girl, and I can't believe who it turns out to be: Rosario Dawson.

Drunk and feeling fanboyish, I decide that I've GOT to meet her. It was closer than I'd been to a "celebrity" at this point, and it was one of those carpe diem moments. Sure, it wasn't that deep, but that was the tequila talking. I see Rob, and I tell him who I've just spotted. Surprisingly, he knew who she was (or he pretended to), but he wouldn't play a role in my childish quest for an introduction. So, I suck it up, saunter over to Lee, and strike up a conversation like I don't even see her standing there. They were kind of laughing at a joke known only to them, and I caught them before they'd goe on to the next topic. "Hey, Lee! Did you go to any good parties tonight?" That was innocent enough, right? Turns out he'd gone to the MySpace party, which I somehow didn't get invited to, which still kinda rubs me the wrong way, 'cause anyone who knows me realizes that I might as well have stock in that company. Guess my invite got lost in the mail. Anyway, Lee does my job for me. He goes, "Hey Will, do you know Rosario?" Why no, I don't know Rosario. "Introduce yourself, " he tells me. I offer my hand, and say, "Hi, I'm Will West". As she shakes my hand, she sort of tilts her head to one side, and in that Clerks II cool chick way of hers, says, "Will West, huh? That's kinda cool." I'd like to think I giggled inside, but knowing me, I probably sounded like a gay Pilsbury Doughboy.

That should've been enough. I should've walked away; mission accomplished. Instead, Lee says, "Hey Will, tell her where you work." I insist that she doesn't care where I work, but he presses. So, I tell her where I work. She gives me a "that's cool" -esque response. Now, she was at Comic Con for several reasons, one of which was to promote her Image Comics series, Occult Crimes Taskforce (O.C.T.). Never read it, but was saving them to read on a rainy day. But what do I say? "I love your book, by the way". After all, I'm Mister Comics. I'm supposed to have my finger on the pulse of these things. I'm hip. I'm cool. Of course I've read her book. And then I go too far. If you noticed, I told her that I loved her book. Not liked. Not "I found it intriguing". No. Loved. So, Mr. Tequila and I get to working together, and we went too far. So, after I say I love the book, I follow with "In fact, I love everything that you do. In fact, I think I fell in love with you with Clerks II." Yeah, I told her I'd fallen in love with her. Because of Clerks II. So, how did she react? Well, first off, I wish I had a time-lapse photo of the change in her face. And, I'm not sure if she was joking or serious, but here's what she said: "Clerks II? After 10 yrs of work, and all of the movies I've done, you fall in love with me for Clerks II?" Sheepishly, I responded, "I dunno...there was something about that role." I forgot to explain that she was dressed like a waiter, in black pants and a white button-down. She was carrying a "V" mask, from V for Vendetta, which she wore on the con floor so that she can get around without being noticed. She was smoking, so she couldn't exactly wear the mask at this point, so more people were recognizing her. As they closed in, I used that as a chance to take my leave.

Now, here's full disclosure: I was so starstruck that I actually forgot her filmography. When I think of her, there are 2 roles that always come to mind: Clerks II, because I really did think she was the perfect girlfriend there, and KIDS. Now, maybe I'm wrong, but I didn't feel like KIDS was the kind of movie I should be bringing up when first meeting her. That whole foot-in-mouth scenario could of been a lot worse had I said, "I think I fell in love with you in KIDS. Yeah, there was something about the scene where you're describing how difficult it is to get the taste of semen out of your mouth. Or the scene where you go for your AIDS test." Oh well, I made my mark. She thought my name was cool, and I made a fool of myself. If I'm lucky, she might use the story next time she's on Conan or something.

Tomorrow's Chapter: "This is bullshit!"

Posted by William @ 12/18/2007 06:54:00 PM
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"An 'lol' just makes it all better."

Well, I just got back from Arizona for a wedding, and I realized that I've gone West twice this year, yet I still haven't written about that first, action-packed trip: San Diego. I made a promise to get to that before the end of the year, and my mommy raised me to never make a promise I couldn't keep. So, it took me until 5 AM, but I finally got the saga down on paper (or e-paper, I guess). Here's how it's going to run: I'm going to post a new part every day this week, so you can either follow along, or read it all Saturday morning as you're nursing your hangover. Either way, it's all gonna be posted by Friday night. I swear that everything mentioned in these stories actually happened, so either be in awe or be ashamed, as I'm laying it all on the line here. It's going to start out kind of slow, but I swear it gets better (I'm particularly fond of tomorrow's post). So, don't say I never entertain you, and most of these stories aren't going to paint me in the best light. But that means they're real. So, here we go:

I've got to say that "excitement" was not the initial feeling when I got to San Diego. Don't get me wrong; I was excited beforehand, and during the flight. However, once I touched down, I got kind of "blah". I think a lot of it had to do with the fact that I didn't have anyone to call. Sure, that sounds stupid, but I didn't exactly have anyone to share it with. Most of my comic friends were with me, so it would've been preaching to the choir. So, I had no real outlet for the excitement and, oddly, that turned into depression. I spent the first night in my room, blogging and checking work e-mail (if you remember the disjointed post about Dr. Phil and Good Times, that was the post).

The first few days were consumed by slave labor. Either we were assembling booths or delivering product to retailers, it was all the unglamorous work you neither see, nor ever want to see. That Wednesday night was known as "Preview Night", which used to be exclusively for retailers and exhibitors to get a lay of the land before the "commoners" hit the gate. In recent years, however, fanboys and retailers alike have taken to coming on Preview Night, so it's not really anything special anymore. If anything, it's a good way to gauge the magnitude of the crowd that is expected over the course of the weekend. Show organizers were expecting upwards of 140,000 attendees over the 5 days, and I truly believe that they hit that mark (yeah, I'm too lazy to actually check for stats; I'm not a real journalist!). I'd have to say that I was almost overwhelmed by the amount of people I saw on Preview Night. It also didn't help that I had booth duty, so I had to do my best Vanna White impression as the "preview nighters" came by to drool at our display cases.

To better explain booth duty, you're basically a spokesmodel posted at a particular product, available for questions should the attendees want more details. If they want to purchase the item, you send them in the appropriate direction. I had the (un)lucky fortune of being posted at the Diamond Exclusive Colonel America Zombie Bust. Allow me to elaborate: Marvel Comics did a miniseries a little over a year ago, featuring their main characters as zombies. Seeing as how zombies "are the new black", the thing sold wonderfully for them. So, Diamond decided to make a bust of one of the prominent characters, Colonel America (an alternate version of the traditional Captain America). The bust had chunks missing out of the body, while the scalp was removeable, allowing easier access to his patriotically zombified brain. This was all well and good...except for the timing of this bust. You see, the popular miniseries was now a year old, while just weeks prior to Comic Con, Marvel killed off Captain America. And here we were, selling a zombie bust of the character. Can you say "in poor taste'? No? Can you say "too soon"? Let's just stick with "morbid". Now, most people would laugh it off, and just think it's kooky, asking, "Dude, where can I buy this?!" However, it was the old school fan base that really took offense to things. I had a guy come up to me, telling me his life story of how Captain America has always been a hero and a role model to him. I'm smiling and nodding, wondering where this is going. That's when he decides to inform me that he's offended that we'd disrespect his role model in such a way. I wanted to launch into the, "Dude, he's not real" defense, but that's something that you only want to use in case of emergency. No need of biting the hand that feeds me, just to save face. So, I had to do some emergency back-peddling. I pointed out that the bust was of Colonel America and not Captain America. Since the Colonel was an alternate reality version of Cap, they're not the same person. So, he could rest assured that his hero was still where he remembered him, six feet under and being consumed by maggots and worms. God Bless America!

I can't make fun of the fanboys, though, as I'm certainly one of them. Little did I know I was going to have my own, weird fanboy moment the next day. You see, my friend Keith and I were roommates, and we were rushing to get to the con floor for the first real day of the show. As we get into the hotel elevator, we see a guy who looks oddly familiar. Now, the thing with comic folks is that many of them are faceless. If the creator has never graced Wizard's Top 10 Creator lists, you'll never know what they look like (it also doesn't help that they've been using the same pics and creators for the past 10 yrs). So, I'm looking at this guy, when I notice that he has a DC bag with his stuff. He smiles and asks if we're headed to the con. We tell him we're working it, blah, blah. Then, I ask if he's with DC. That's when he introduces himself: he's Ethan Van Sciver, regular artist on Green Lantern. So, we shoot the shit for all 12 seconds of the elevator ride. When we get outside, he asks if we want to split a cab.

Now, the convention center was literally one block away, and we were kind of looking forward to walking it. I mean, the early morning cosplay sightings were reason enough to hoof it (you'll understand when you see the droves of Cassie Hack and Power Girl clones). Not wanting to seem rude, and it was EVS, we decide to join him in the cab. When we tell the driver where we're going, he gets all pissed. "Why can't you walk?", he asks. "It's right there!". I guess we were keeping him from getting a "real fare". Trying to sound like I was cool and edgy, I responded with, "Well, we thought you wanted to get paid!" Nice one, Will. So, it actually takes us about 5 minutes just for the cab to get back onto the street. The entire time, the driver is pissed, trying to tell us that we could've walked, seeing as how the convention center was a block away. Well, EVS had a couple of boxes of comics on a cart, so walking would've been cumbersome. At some point, the guy calmed down.

In the meantime, Keith and I are talking to Ethan, anything from where he lives to how he felt about the success of the Sinestro Corps storyline. At some point, he mentioned his wife, and that's when the driver decided to be our friend. "How many girlfriend do you have?", he asked Ethan. Ethan was like, "I don't have any girlfriends, man. I'm married." That wasn't stopping the driver, though. "You have one wife, so you have enough time and energy for about 2 girlfriends. Lots of beautiful women out here. You might get a girlfriend this weekend." Dude really started getting forceful, like he couldn't believe that his math wasn't making sense to us. We were bewildered by how incessant he was in selling his 1 wife = 2 girlfriend lifestyle. I swear, a 1-block trip took about 20 minutes, and we went from being abused to being this guy's new best friends, as we were lowly, inexperienced fools, while he was the guru of love. Anyway, it was awesome 'cause I was in the middle of a "con story". I'd always read about them online, but I never knew I'd actually experience one. I shared an experience with a popular comics pro, in a scenario that you'd have to experience to believe. Comic-Con Rocks!

Tomorrow's Chapter: "In fact, I think I fell in love with you..."

Posted by William @ 12/17/2007 06:34:00 PM
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"I thought you made love like an ugly woman. So present, so grateful."

Dear TNT,
There are other shows in the world than Charmed and Law & Order. I appreciate what you're trying to do. You're going for a whole theme thing. But, really? There's a whole world of syndicated shows out there, just waiting to be mined. I don't think anyone's airing The Fall Guy right now. Or how about that old show, The Wizard, with the midget who made toys that helped him "MacGuyver" out of bad situations? Just a thought...

So, I've been losing my mind lately, as Toys "R" Us is now open until midnight for the whole holiday rush. For those of you new to these parts, I work evenings and weekends at Toys "R"Us, or as I like to call it, "my student loan job". Staying open til midnight can be trying considering that's just the time at which we start turning away customers. Actually leaving the store is a whole different matter. This past Wednesday, we didn't get out until 2 AM. Keep in mind that the employees are high school students, mothers, and people with other jobs. It makes no sense to me, seeing as how we have a capable night crew, staffed with baby mama's and ex convicts. Can't they clean the store?! But I digress...

During this season, our minds start to wander, and the subject matter of our conversations isn't exactly suited for our environment. For example, a few weeks back, one of my coworkers remarked that he's both vulgar and nice. I told him that his Pokemon name would be "Vulgice". Then, his evolutions would either be Vul-Va or VulGina. Yeah...

Recently, though, we've been having a lot of discussions/arguments regarding the upcoming G.I. Joe movie. The guys were remarking that, regardless of how Hollywood decides to fuck it up, the movie won't be complete without Snake Eyes. Now, this is when one of the guys decided to say that there was a time when everyone thought Snake Eyes was Black, and how disappointed he was when he turned out to be some White guy. Now, first of all, this is a common Black thing to say, as we're always trying to claim someone in the media. Mariah Carey? She's ours. The Rock? Yeah, he's ours, too. O.J.? He's ours as long as he's acquitted. Anyway, it was weird to hear this, though, as the assertion was now coming from a White guy.

So, I had to search long and hard and think if there was ever any indication that Snake Eyes was a Black guy. As far as G.I. Joe goes, all Black members have to carry a big ass gun. And rhyme. See: Roadblock; Cross-reference: Heavy Duty. Snake Eyes didn't rhyme and he carried swords. Not a compelling case.

Then, there's the fact that Snake Eyes dates Scarlett. Sure, in the cartoon, she was with Duke, but in every other form of media, he's knockin' those redheaded boots. Now, have you ever seen a Black guy with a redhead? Have you? For real? If you have, can you find out his secret for me?

Next, there's the fact that he's a ninja. I'll admit that I was surprised he was just a blond cornhusker, myself, as he was a master ninja...who'd fought in Vietnam. This is the real clincher, as I realized there could never be a black ninja. Sure, a ninja might wear Black, but he could never be Black? Why? Because ninjas have to be quiet. There, I said it. You know you were thinking it, too!

A Black ninja would be flossin' and shit, and would never pull off the element of surprise:
"I'm a ninja, son! Look at this big-ass sword, woadie! I'm 'bout to cut you, fool! You betta check yo self 'cause I'm 'bout to ninja. yo. ass!"

But, knowing Hollywood, if they want to be hip and edgy, movie Snake Eyes will probably be Black. And played by Chris Tucker. Thanks, assholes.

Speaking of Hollywood ruining cool, black concepts, I leave you with this: The other day, I was stalking a friend on facebook, and one of his friends is a page at NBC/Universal. Her status mentioned that she was watching the new K.I.T.T. models roll of the truck. For the uninformed, NBC's filming a new Knight Rider movie which, if successful, will lead to a new series focusing on Michael Knight's son. Well, when I saw this message, I almost wet myself. I wanted to send her a message. After all, this woman was like an angel to me; my link to my savior: a talking, condescending car. Just looking at my site, you've *got* to see the Knight Rider influence. Anyway, I held off, and decided to find more info on the project myself. And here's what shattered my childhood memories:




HOW THE HELL CAN YOU CALL THIS K.I.T.T.?!!

I swear, every night when I say my prayers, I pray that someone would bring back Team Knight Rider. Or at least release it on DVD. On the bright side, at least these producers got The Hoff to agree to come back, which is something TKR never pulled off.

This post is dedicated to the late, great Ike Turner. I believe there are two sides to every story, and poor Ike never got his fair shake. So, I hope he's in Heaven, slapping and beating up angels...

Posted by William @ 12/14/2007 06:06:00 PM
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"Nothing beats the hobo life, stabbin' folks with my hobo knife!"

Man, I couldn't give a shit about professional sports, but the one thing that could get me interested is Lindsay Czarniak. God, is she amazing! This remark isn't going to mean much unless you either live in the DC or Miami area, or you used to watch the George Michael Sports Machine. In any case, she has got to be the most beautiful woman in sports broadcasting, and is certainly the most beautiful woman on a DC news team. This month's Washingtonian Magazine is a treat, as it features Lindsay and Alison Starling (the second hottest woman in DC news), as they tour DC's hottest happy hours. Give Lindsay more airtime, and I might find out how many touchdowns are in an inning!

So, I've been reading a lot of "lad lit" lately. For the uninformed, this is the term given to fiction books that are the male equivalent of "chick lit". It pretty much started with High Fidelity (well, any Nick Hornby, really), and the ball has been rolling ever since. I actually don't care much for fiction, as that's what comics and TV are for. I mean, when reading "real books", I find that I tend to go more for nonfiction/autobiographical stuff. I've always been more of a fan of the "story behind the story". After all, we are the True Hollywood Story generation. So, it's only fitting that a nonfiction book would get me started in this genre.

I've been on this kick to read at least one "real book" a week. I've been knee deep in comics for too long. On top of it, my love of that medium has waned since it became my meal ticket (especially since it's more like a Happy Meal ticket!). Finally, I just feel like I'm getting dumber. When your reading consists of TMZ, Wizard Magazine, and the latest fare from DC or Marvel, you're not going to be winning Jeopardy anytime soon (unless it's Celebrity Jeopardy, in which case you can get all necessary knowledge from a Shoney's placemat).

I started with millions of women are waiting to meet you: a memoir. Written by British writer Sean Thomas, it details his year entrenched in the crazy world of online dating. You see, he was a writer for Men's Health, and his boss thought that online dating would make for a good feature story in the magazine. This, of course, was somewhat of a guise. You see, Thomas was 37 years old with no prospects for a wife in sight. All of his friends were married and starting families, while they were all starting to fear for him. They figured he needed a little help, as he wasn't getting any older, so they stepped up their efforts to keep him from dying alone. Thomas agreed that it would make a good story, so he decided to go along with the plan (it also didn't hurt that the magazine agreed to pick up the tab for any membership fees he might incur during the story).

Thomas has a specific type, and he views online dating as a way of weeding out those that don't fit his criteria. After all, the internet was full of millions of women, just waiting to meet the right guy, so he could afford to be picky, right? Wrong. Thomas is that type of neurotic guy, to which I can relate, who does nothing but sabotage his relationships. She's too tall. She's too skinny. She doesn't find my jokes funny. All of these are things that he finds wrong with his dates. As he gets deeper into the online dating scene, Thomas analyzes a lot about himself, and begins to see a pattern in his relationship history. I understood his life so well that I felt I could have written the book myself. Clearly, the whole "manboy" phenomenon isn't as uncommon as I'd thought: men who are chronologically one age, but simply refuse to grow up.

In the end, he slowly climbs his way back out of the internet, and throws himself back into the real world. Using what he's learned about himself, he realizes what his friends have see all along: he's not getting any younger and it's time to grow up. So, he starts broadening his horizons, and dating women who wouldn't have previously fit his mold. And what do you know? He finds The One. True story! Yeah, I probably just ruined it for ya, but the people who read this site would either never read that book, or they've already read it!

So, feeling like I'd found a kindred spirit, I decided to jump insecurity-first into more books like this. There aren't a ton of biographies like this because, well, who wants to read about an everyday slacker? However, there's a wealth of fiction dedicated to this, and that's where I headed next. My first stop on the lad lit train was Booty Nomad. It had been recommended to me in the past, plus I'd read good reviews about it when it was first released. Unfortunately, it's been out of print for the past year or so, and I had to figure out the fast-paced world of Amazon to procure it (yes, when it comes to the internet, I can be a troglodyte at times! Who knew how kickass making a wish list could be?). Contrary to what the the title would ahve you believe, the main character is not Jamie Foxx or Bill Bellamy. Written by Scott Mebus, our protagonist is David, a children's show producer who's trying to get his mojo back after breaking up with "The Eater of Souls". They'd had a beautiful 2-year relationship, but she was just too young, and he realized that she was't exactly what he wanted. While they had great memories behind them, he always felt that something was missing. After a bit, she was no longer cute and sweet. At least, not in his eyes. He began to see her insecurity and her flaws, and he simply saw that she was taking more from him than she gave. He got out, but she was persistent in trying to get back together. She'd leave him several voicemail messages a day, while also harassing his friends to see if he still spoke of her.

David tries to get back into the swing of things, to get over The Eater as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, he doesn't realize that his lack of closure is getting in the way of things. This becomes apparent when he meets "The Goddess", a beautiful, witty chick he meets at a party. He beings to obsess over and really wants to make things work out, despite a somewhat foot-in-mouth introduction. At the same time, The Goddess is going through a break-up of her own. As a result, they sort of become each other's "break-up sponsors". He's got feelings for her, as she has for him, but she tells him that it's too soon for either of them to act on them. Throughout the course of the book, he pursues her, she plays hard to get, and the crazy ex keeps demanding an audience so that she can finally tell him how she feels about him.

The Eater ranges from wanting to tell him off to wanting to prove to him why they should get back together. In the end, based on encouragement from his friends, David decides to grant The Eater her chance for closure. After all, if he's truly over her, then what does he have to lose? Well, as he sits there, reliving their relationship, listening to her side of things, he finds that he's actually getting the closure that he hadn't realized he needed. He begins to see their relationship in a new light. According to her account of things, it was apparent that she loved things he'd done for her, rather than him. She said she knew she loved him when he took care of her on a sick day or sent her flowers, but these were things that could have been done by any guy. There was nothing about him, as far as his qualities, that influenced her love. Once again, he noticed that she was self-centered, and equated love as a feeling she had for those who catered to her. Her love was conditional. Once this revelation opened his eyes, he found that he was ready to go out and conquer the world again. He let The Eater have her say, he got up, left, and noticed that the world looked a little different than it had looked before. And did he end up with The Goddess? No. You see, she'd had "a relapse", and ended up sleeping with her ex. She just wasn't ready to move on, nor did she seem like she wanted to. David understood this, but sh'd lost her Goddess rank by that point. From then on, she was simply "Relapse Girl" (David has a thing with nicknames; he's too in-his-head to remember names, so he makes up nicknames for the women in his life). He's not sad about it, though, as he's a little more optimistic now that he knows he can truly move on now.

Reading these books back to back, it was almost as if they were written by the same guy. Witty dialogue, shared experiences, and similar outlooks on life are what made these books enjoyable for me. I really like that David worked for a puppet show. It was one of those jobs where he didn't know how he'd fallen into it, but it's the job that he had. It's not what he wanted to do, but it wasn't hard, he was fairly good at it, and it was easier than trying to make a life plan. In the meantime, anybody with a "real job" would always think his job sounded so cool. "Wow, you work with puppets? That must be so fun!" Sure, it might sound fun if you're a receptionist or even an attorney. "Fun" is society's way of saying "not difficult". It can be quite difficult and draining, but nobody seems to think that because it's comic boo...I mean, puppets. See? I told you I related to a lot of it...

Posted by William @ 12/10/2007 08:22:00 PM
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