Batman vs Superman: Yawn of Justice

Batman vs Superman is actually the story of two dudes who can’t communicate at all.

The biggest problem in the plot of this mildly spoiler review is that both Batman and Superman are 10000000% guilty of hubris and neither of them admit it.
I went into Batman vs Superman (or vice versa) Dawn of Justice with the same level of meh as I approach most things that have been spoiled in every trailer, preview and sneak peek that a major movie can offer…which is to say I was passive aggressive teenage girl ambivalent to everything going on.
The movie opens recreating the events of Man of Steel where instead of seeing handsome Henry Cavill we see WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON Ben Affleck’s Bruce Wayne driving through Metropolis with his woes (and the apocalypse raining down on him and his brand friendly Jeep). From that moment, 18 months ago, Bruceman er Batman is completely team “Fuck this guy”. For reasons not one person on the writing team for this movie can explain or cared to explore, Batman is reactivated across town in Gotham and wages a one man war, tearing through the streets of Gotham like a toddler mid temper trantrum. He doesn’t cause chaos in Metropolis, where the problem ACTUALLY is, but instead just beats mercilessly on petty thugs and crooks. The Daily Planet runs a piece on some asshole with a branding fetish leaving bat brands on the low lives of Gotham in thinly explained attempts to suss out the kinda racist sounding White Portuguese drug cartel and this is how you want to introduce the two leads? I end it with a question mark because I wasn’t even sure if this was an episode of The Wire, Breaking Bad or something else involved drug runners with cool names and thusly confused as to why Batwayne was so obsessed with figuring out who WP was/is because meanwhile here’s Superman doing Superman things like bailing cats out of trees, rescuing Russian Cosmonauts from explosions and otherwise being a god on Earth. Batwayne is every flavor of salty because he immediately zeroes in on SuperKent to figure out why he’s so hunky and dreamy. I mean…why he writes puff pieces on assholes in longjohns.


Cut to bizarre party somewhere in wherever where Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman (she’s in the movie, did I forget to mention this?) are at a party but the punchline is the dialogue is garbage.
The dialogue is bad.
It’s REALLY a screenwriting 101 script written by casual Wikipedia enthusiast that was then passed off to someone else to polish and instead of actually proofing, they just post-it noted lines in before handing it to someone else and the only things that were filmed were the post-it scenes. The GLUE of a Post-It is what’s holding this mess together and even that isn’t doing much of anything.
Batwayne gets one upped by Wonder whatever her name is and he’s all beguiled and sad. SuperKent is confused because he only has heart boners for Lois Lane who’s given even LESS than Wonder Woman to work with the in terms of whatever post-it plots they came up with for this movie.
The movie works best if we’re talking about the actual assembly of the JLA versus the grumbling mumbling hulking bros who just can’t get their shit together. The idea that Batman would actively want to beat the shit out of Superman because of damages and loss sustained during Man of Steel is cool and one man doing it is also cool but if he felt he was such a major threat, watching Batman recruit a batch other -snicker- metahumans to understand them and get them on the side of good would be a much more engaging movie than the one we wound up with.
Anyway more talking happens and some fun cameos occur that actually riled up the crowd I was with (we my have been drinking) and that made me want THAT movie, the one I made up with all my action figures and in my head that I hoped Hollywood would rip off. It never happens and that’s where the burden of what DC is doing becomes apparent. The writers (I’m being a savage and saying it was atleast ten people trying their best to mansplain years of nerd lore) tried to do what Marvel has done with four movies in one movie and it shows, good GOD does it show. It’s most apparent with how they’ve glossed over the rest of the league, wink and nods to each member in what is tantamount to a Veronica Mars tribute scene.
The third act is cobbled together as complete 100% fan service to those poor fools who still think DC as a brand and entity respects them and I for one low key am pleased before I realize that I honestly could give a flying fuck about who wins the Batman vs Superman debate; the one who loses is the rest of us. How?! Man of Steel. We all lost by seeing that grim piece of shit overthought hunk of shit. We got a fantastic opportunity to tell the tale of a man stuck with being a god and spent it grim darkly trying to understand Kal-El’s beef with the world. Superman is an alien, an immigrant and we never in any permutation of him felt that loneliness and need to belong, to be respected; we have only ever gotten his god amongst men perspective. Conversely, Bruce Wayne is the little orphan shitshow that could. They are men burdened with being men who want to save a broken world but on their terms. In short, there’s not real risk choosing Batman or Superman; they’re not the dudes you want but the options you have. It’s basically like the 2016 elections so…
Then, there’s Wonder Woman.
In the Synderverse she’s every humorless woman any basic fuckboy has told to smile; she hates everyone and would gladly squeeze the last breath from their lungs if it meant one less useless cretin in the world.


So basically I’m in love.
She’s actually the reason to see this. With almost no dialogue, Gal Gadot’s Wonder Woman is probably the best part of this 2 hour therapy session. She stares a lot, analyses and disappears. When she appears, the theater erupts. I look forward to the one time I pay for this movie to experience that euphoria. The masses demand a woman who doesn’t give a fuck; that solves a problem and shrugs when everyone else is completely flummoxed.
Remember in IronMan 2 when Black Widow was completely down played? Same problem. Many a think piece is being written about how women in these movies are completely bypassed (merchandise and actual focal point) so really, it’s done and over with but honestly…
The final sequence happens exactly as you would expect a video game or a great weed fueled story to go. Fast, mad cut scenes, bright lights, fan service and of course hero shit. There are no stakes raised, no sense of loss or gain in this as you watch it, just a lot of “cool” or “they should’ve cleaned that up more in post” and “that’s it?!” There’s no sense of ramped up world building that follows movies like this, just the simple nod and “I saw that it was ok” and then onto the next one.
When the movie ended, my nerd cohorts all puzzled over where to go and if we should keep drinking; no one was bothered by the movie, there was a sad sense of acceptance. We knew it would blow but we didn’t expect to ALL be devastated by how truly bland a movie it was. It just washes over you in a wave of sad feelings.
As I walked out and had a drink with a coworker we spent more time arguing how good Marvel was at these movies than DC and a MAJOR conclusion was met; DC banks heavily on the name recognition while Marvel wants to seduce into their world and keep you there for as long as possible. Superman vs Batman only holds the door open long enough for you to walk in, have your ass smacked by the swinging door and by then you’ve already lost time and money to whatever is happening.
There’s no investment in your delight or engagement, just simple shrugging and plot holes. It’s terrible that the Snyderverse/Nolanverse is grim tones and too much reality for people to handle; the joy of these properties is that there is someone out there watching for us and protecting us from ourselves and the things that endanger us all. There’s no mirth or joy in this universe which is why it’s funny to think the heroes are so dark while the team on Suicide Squad clearly snorted alot of cocaine in Scarface’s Miami and candy coated the most violent batch of lunatics. Juxtaposing these two worlds adds to the other issue that weighs down this movie; neither the villains or the heroes seem to be aware of either’s existence. That’s terrible. You’re telling me that Superman was unaware of the Joker gang running the streets of Gotham before the Batman finished him? Superman had to know there was fuckery abounding. For your audience to walk out completely wigging out and confused by what they just watched…that kind of reaction can spell the end times for comic book properties as audiences reach a sympathy level of nope when it comes to how much you can ask a non comic book reader to suspend their belief in things.

Truth be told, the movie will make a shit ton of money and for that, we should be sad because there’s no reason for subpar movies to make that kind of bank and still be considered good. We deserve much better than what we’re getting with this second round of Bat/Sup movies but ultimately the fandom will split; they’ll pick another comic book franchise to get behind that won’t treat them like they’re stupid.



I hope that Marvel, still humbled by missteps, take this into account when it comes to Captain America: Civil War as that movie hinges entirely on the fandom in both the MCU and comic book universe to really think about who they’ve aligned themselves with because that’s the real problem; Team Cap or Team Iron.

This Mirror Ain’t Big Enough for The Both of Us

In my previous life, I was a loss prevention detective for a large big box retailer.

I’d tell you of my exploits but that just seems both a waste of time and also like a million years ago.

The key thing to remember is that during the three years I held that position, I faced some pretty harrowing things.

I had a crackhead with a blade in his pocket.

Another had a stashed needle in his coat.

Another was trying to spit blood at me and my coworkers.

I was bulldozed by a fifteen year old girl who kicked me in the head as she ran. (not my finest moment)

I wrestled a teenage girl to the ground after flying over a railing.

In short, I did alot of weird things that looking back on it was both an adrenaline rush, ill advised, super risky and very dangerous. A superhero for a company that doesn’t remember I was even there. Brave bold and stupid, you know?

So why is it when it comes to talking to co-workers I have no spine?

When I look at the things I’ve been able to do, a lot of it was just because I had to turn off my brain and just say fuck it. Anxiety is debilitating as is depression and the combination feels a lot like being punched repeatedly in the face and making the most of a busted lip. I’ve done my very best to stay optimistic despite everything and have done a fairly good job of it (previous readers will probably recall the meltdowns and other crisis I’ve been too public in discussing) but when it comes to tackling things like basic social and human interactions…


It’s gotten to the point where I will play a conversation and the variations thereof to make sure that A) I don’t sound like a fucking imbecile and B) that I convey my point effectively and not at all like an asshat.

I realize, that it’s all because I’m in the middle of my own head worried about how other people see me and both outcomes result entirely on how big or small an asshole I look. It’s about me, people. It’s about me not being a fucking pussy. It’s about me being the person I wanted to be but also not feeling like a second class hand me down waste of space you know?

I will sit and overanalyze and things won’t get done and then I’ll vex and obsess about why things are not working out for me because I am spineless and in my own way.

My heroes are not spineless or in their own way.


they have shotguns and fashion sense


Round killing things and fashion sense


Pointy things and fashion sense


How does one get out of their own head and grow a spine?

You just do it.

I think back on how I was fighting motherfuckers over stuff that wasn’t mine (stolen merchandise and the no bonus you get in recovering it) like a rabid panda and I wonder where did she go? Where is that guy when you’re trying to talk to someone about making adjustments on a project that is a seemingly easy fix but you’re so busy trying to not sound like you’re incompetent that you basically wind up mumbling and stuttering and coming off exactly like your worst fear. I think back on how confident I was telling a shoplifter that I didn’t want to send them to jail and that they needed to be honest about the number of times they’d stolen things. How much twisted fun the people I worked with had being low level toy cop assholes to people. That guy, that guy was pretty boss. Somewhere between surviving and thriving I lost my nerve. I wound up leaving that job and suddenly all of that changed. My spine curved. My internal monologue became a massive long diatribe narrating the worst things about me and the reasons why I couldn’t possibly that good anymore, especially if I couldn’t work that gig.

Probably didn’t help that around the same time that happened about a few months later I was broken up with (maybe even almost immediately after I don’t remember) disaster lumps itself in threes so the entire thing was just a total dismantling of myself as a human.

I’ve never felt more destroyed than when all of that happened. Okay maybe there were a few other times but c’mon fam…it’s like how many times can a person take L after L?



but I really don’t think he lost

You’ve read the past posts so I won’t rehash the past but it was hard. It was scrapping and scraping and doing things that needed to be done to get things done. It wasn’t always easy but then again nothing ever is. I lost a lot of myself,  and was still chasing after something that (looking at it now) wasn’t going to happen but when you’ve got

2016 is about getting that nerve back.

It’s not without it’s bumps, bruises, ebbs and flows.

I’m trying to do this new thing where I accept that I’m really only capable of doing the best that I can but let’s be honest who the hell has the mental and emotional fortitude to believe in all that bullshit anyhow?

2016 is about getting that nerve back. I keep saying it. It’s popped up once or twice, the straighter spine, the conviction in statements and execution of tasks and the feeling of victory is fleeting but I hang onto it because well, rainy days stay happening and you always need an umbrella and shiny lights to keep you from losing your mind.



The wild thing is that I’ve done so much since I’ve been where I am and that in it of itself is an amazing thing. What I’m trying to do though, is be excellent and I keep getting in my own way trying to be excellent. Can I stay out of my own way? Maybe maybe not. I guess the best advice is to just know that I’m going to be standing in front of myself which means I’m chasing me and that means that there is a version of me that’s pretty advanced and moving at the speed of light so I’m doing things the right way.


I’m really hypnotized by this

Confidence is a thing that doesn’t come easily, not anymore. It’s actually pretty sad because there was a time in my life where I was real fucking arrogant bastard but that was because I really hadn’t any equals. A God complex without ever really thinking about where that came from and just like that it was gone. I could spend a whole boring ass post analyzing it all but let’s face it, we’d get nowhere and you’d get bored and I’d run out of gifs to entertain you.

In the quest to find confidence or find steel in my spine, I’ve been trying everything and anything. I’ve started changing my wardrobe up enough to look cooler or at least vaguely resemble someone in touch with reality as opposed to my actual aesthetic; hats, tee shirt and sneakers I bought pretty cheap on a binge shopping run. Ironically enough, this is the actual look and feel that everyone who is cool tends to embody, I just look like a fucking idiot.


and yet Martin Starr is a dreamboat now

I’ve learned so far that I really am just trying to get by. I’m coping with a mother who’s sick, a job that’s both rewarding and frustrating, a family that’s getting by and a relationship that’s starting to be something and a tattoo collection that needs to get up and on with it’s bad self. I’ve learned that by trying to alter myself I get farther and farther away from me but then again, I wind up back at square one.


The spine thing.

The trick is to live recklessly. You’re going to fuck up, you’re going to fuck up super hard and you’re going to fuck up often. You’re going to say stupid things, wear stupid things, act like an airhead and you’re going to be the biggest idiot for an hour or two but you will never be that for the rest of your life. You will solve all the problems, be the solution and save all the boxes of kittens in burning down houses. Why?

Because you’re a goddamned superhero.

You’re not as bad as you think you are and for the most part, even if you are, you’re not that terrible. You’re the amalgamation of a series of strange occurrances that had to happen in order for to be here. You have to 1000000% remind yourself that while other people are uncomfortable with you’ve got to live with yourself and I guess that’s really what it’s all about.

I think alot about the way that I started out and how an extraordinary a machine I am, banged up bruised and battered (basically I’m the Millennium Falcon) from everything and still keep going. That’s really thing thing. You have to be confident in your mileage, in your ability to survive, in your ability to adapt and even if you don’t look like much, you’ve still got it where it counts.

Maybe that’s really the whole point. I’m just going along and seeing what happens as it happens, conquering things in my own way. I still miss the person I used to be and I want to be the more improved version of that person.

For all I know, I already am.

What I Learned: Comeback Season

I’ve been terrible with all this haven’t I?


A recap.

Waffle is a ghost. Somewhere between all the madness and chaos of my life, work and just holding on to everything that I could (plus not getting shit for Christmas, petty I know) I realized that Waffle is a lit cigarette in my chest. I still feel a ways but I guess I can’t hold my breath for so long because thats the best way to suffocate.

I finished strong at work.

I’m watching my brother turn 29.

I’m watching my mom battle cancer. She’s winning.

Started 2016 with my first West Coast trip to CES in Las Vegas where I broke night partying and slept on a plane back, exhausted but not hungover.

I’m in a very interesting relationship that started in a smokey house party, traveled onto Instagram, resulted in a long night hanging out in a car and continues in Bay Ridge. (This is entirely paraphrased and downplays the very intricacies of the entire event but you don’t need to know everything do you?)

I’m watching my credibility in this industry slowly expand and my ability to make things happen becoming more apparent.

I still have fears and anxiety and worry that it’s all going to disappear but the less I pay attention to that, the better. I’m working on being better acclimated to the world I’m in and trying to not be so stressed about how I sound to people or how I look but I’m learning that I’m not as bad as I think and this sense of self comes from having been around people who were more than likely already depending on my ability to be accommodating and generous.

I’m still learning to not be a punk speaking to people but also that people need to not be such assholes and the only way to survive them is to have a strong sense of self. I’m still working on that. I’m making a name for myself and that means more than I thought it could because I guess at some point I lost my voice and my spine and I’m finding that while learning to project more.

If I look back at where I was I can see the valley that I walked through, the trees I wrote my initials on and the places that became landmarks. If I stay too long looking I’ll miss what’s in front of me and in that regard, not go anywhere.

So I’m moving.

Where I’m going, I have no idea.



What I Learned – October 16th

This week’s edition is super deluxe with photos, overworking, heart eyes emojis and flames. I loiter in the Javitz Center for New York Comic Con, spend some cash flexing, pull off a few Hail Mary shoots battle a cold and win.


Day one of New York Comic Con starts with me basically getting wide eyed and overwhelmed. I bought these tickets back in May and here we are, deep in the heart of fall, walking around in a place that I’ve come to know quite well. The show gets bigger every year and this year, by some small miracle, isn’t as crowded. The reason is simple, The Walking Dead have a massive event at MSG and half the thirst traps are there and not at the con.We hit a panel on horror books and during the conversation, she puts her head on my shoulder and I don’t know it’s just…it’s the bees knees.

basically im schmidt

I wind up buying some t-shirts early because, while everyone knows Sunday is the shopping day, I know the shirts in my size will sell out fast. I wind up with an SSR shirt from Marvel, an Agent Carter shirt designed for We Love Fine along with a We Love Fine Toothless tee for Waffle.  I drift back and we head out…but first…I buy my first ever Comic Con branded tee. I need more tees like I need holes in my head. I race to Artist Alley where the delightful Ant Lucia signs my copy of Bombshells #2; I miss Marguerite Bennett and forget to bring my Robbi Rodriquez books but there’s always another day. I pick up and get a signed Kevin Wada Catwoman.

I adore that man and want to be friends.


It’s day two of New York Comic Con and Waffle and I are on a tear. So far, we’ve hit early morning panels for ABC Family (soon to be Freeform) screening and panel for Shadowhunters.It’s just as you imagined; attractive teens in impossible situations winning and looking attractive doing it. I’m glad I bring my telephoto lens today, despite the incredibly heavy bag and wind up taking some great photos. Followed by that, we watch some of panel for The Chronicles of Shannara and I take a good photos of Manu Bennett and marvel at the fact that Terry Brooks and Mercedes Lackey basically birthed my love of fantasy. Afterwards, super cool Shadowhunter gear in tow, we wind up on the show floor where I basically go completely batshit insane and pick up shirts and loot crates and Marvel Collector Corps boxes. It’s like reverse Christmas but for me.

We sit in on a pilot screening of a series called Containment…which makes us scream FOUR TO SIX FEET every few minutes because viruses and ew.

It’s funny to think how Waffle and I have fallen into an easy rhythm and maybe it’s because I’m slightly delirious from weird sleep habits but it feels like we’re starting over in a strange way.

I could also be making shit up because I’m an idealist and still believe. We get Five Guys for dinner and I stare at her like she’s the most miraculous thing ever. She is.

I have another one of those weird sense dreams and wind up thinking the universe is working in my favor.

basically the whole weekend


The finale. I hit Artist Alley early and get Valentine De Landro’s signature on Bitch Planet one, Marguerite on Bombshells #2, Phil Noto on my Black Widow TB,  miss out on Terry Dodson for Princess Leia 1, miss Stacey Lee for Silk 1, and Azceta for Outcast one but it’s okay because I can’t keep running around Artist Alley and leave Waffle with the kids. So we hit the floor and split up; I get another set of Marvel boxes, miss out on the Funko NYCC exclusive tickets for a Pop Game of Thrones Iron Throne, wind up getting a Jack Skellington with Vampire Teddy from Waffle, get an Ant Man Collector Box (meh it’s okay) Hit one panel that I really wanted to go to, The Women of Marvel and am deeply inspired to do more. I believe I’ll be there soon. I’ve always wanted to work there to be honest and I think it’s the fact that I’m so close to things that I want that I believe I can have them, they are mine and that they are due to me.

there’s a reason why I like this guy


I end up at work wearing the Wonder Woman cap I picked up and pretend to be atleast fifty percent more powerful than my usual 25 percent so I’m actually running at 75%. Fires are everywhere and I have to run out for a shoot on location with animals.


Only, it doesn’t work out that way because communication breakdown.

Consolation prize?

Co-worker got Doughnuttery and them donuts are tasty as fuck.


The hits keep on coming as we steamroll through a news day, I run some budgets and I basically start preparing for the gross inevitability of the cold I’ve been fighting to finally win. I start preparing for a shoot on Wednesday in a designer store and realize, I basically do alot and that’s pretty cool.I spend the last two days talking non-stop to Waffle who’s on vacation.

mood forever


I start early  and wind up in Little Italy covering the pre-launch of a store called Noah. The founder was the creative director for Supreme and I wind up staring at really nice things and listening to a super chill dude talk about how kids are smarter than we give them credit for, it just looks like they’re doing stupid shit because we have old people eyes.

still get off my lawn

I wind up back in the office where we have to prepare for another field shoot, I may have a celebrity in one room but rap time is a real thing. Go figure.

I leave late and wind up Midtown Comics like, four days ago I wasn’t at Comic Con and pick up a bunch of titles to begin the madness next year.

I get home, take a cough syrup bath and knock out.


Imagine the longest day.

Now extend it.

So we were basically doing one thing and then wound up doing three things and I’ve gotta tell you, it was elegant as fuck to watch me, Tits McGee running up and down the hall with gear to move from one studio to the other because sometimes interns aren’t the smartest creatures on the production planet.

I was an intern once but I also knew a) when to act, b) act like I knew what I was doing c) get out of the way of the people who knew what they were doing. There’s nothing more heartbreakingly tragic than an intern who doesn’t have basic common sense or the ability to act like they know what the fuck is going on. If you’re someone who’s looking to get an internship, or start working on things, you need to just take a few deep breaths and get your head in the game. You’ve got to make sure you can fake it til you make it, okay?

It’s just really irksome when you basically just blink a lot and watch people running around to build a set and you’re just…there…

Anyways, it gets done and I have to drink more cough syrup to continue my bumpy road back to 75% operational level so I trudge off from work well after my appointed time to leave and get home just as Grey’s Anatomy ends. Tumblr, you never cease to amaze me because them recaps…girl…let me tell you…Callie…you….you’re dating a girl named Penny and you bring her to mutual friend dinner like…off the rip? Naw. You can’t do that.



Sorta low key sorta chilled but still wound up doing work because that’s what I do. I get the car and play Uber for Waffle. I pull up, blaring some music (that new Demi Lovato ain’t bad) and I hand over the aux cable…which she sets fire to. It takes everything in me to not mash my face into her neck and just be like, let me love you all over again.

We wind up at Target where she basically takes advantage of my Uberness and picked up a few things. Again, I may just live in crazyville in my head and basically had heart emojis but I did see a lot of blushing. My internal monolog sounds like this:

Irony being what it is, we wind up seeing two people who we worked with who basically knew we were a thing..or at least had suspicions…and their reactions were amazing. It’s been quite some time since we’ve been spotted in the wild and of course it happens when we’re in the place that started it, not to mention that it was in full view of people who are probably still whispering and wondering if we’re together. I keep having these strange super sensory dreams and they’re all connected and it feels like the will of the universe is finally working in my favor.

I have a great job, a chance to really grow and evolve and then there’s this. It’s been the longest strangest most bizarre week of the year and I’m here for all of it. There’s something about October that is filled with magic. It’s not the pumpkins or spiced lattes or even the fucking season change, it’s just the way the universe and I have worked over the past few years. Waffle and I got together on Halloween, my favorite time of year and since then I get a little wistful for that moment when a spark became a fire and we just burned bright. I like the idea of the phoenix. I like the idea of doing it all over again, better, stronger, braver.

I sneak pictures while we’re at, of all romantic places, Buffalo Wild Wings and make strange small talk about futures while trying to not stare at each other. There’s only a small table between us but it’s a million miles and a dozen people in the entirety of the restaurant but we’re just there and it felt like it was going to be alright.

We are the same people, scarred and changed by whatever it is that people go through and we’re still bumping into each other the way you do when you’re home in the dark. It’s strange and familiar and it’s comforting, scary but it makes things bearable when you know that there’s a light right there that you can flip any time and see the person standing there, just as confused as you are as to why it took so long to find that in the first place.

On the drive home, she takes over the AUX and we’re laughing and joking and just being in the moment and I swear I wanted to kiss her and I think she would’ve let me. I tested the waters with a well time joke about her smile and the blush…

total sidebar, this movie was the first one to accurately describe what it is when you see a girl and just get stupid faced

I drop her off and tell her I’ll text her when I’m home and wind up blurting out love you and she smirked and nodded.

wedding vows forever

So I guess you could say this week was one for the record books.

Now universe, do your thing.


What I Learned: October 10

This week, I return to my comic book roots, get optimistic about text messages and try to not lose my head.

Last week was pretty busy and I’ve noticed that I’ve completely lost control


After driving round in the rain yesterday and finding two action figures and buying two bluray movies at Target while hoping that Waffle would reconsider saying yes to me and a rainy joyride, I wind up at my brother’s house to deliver passes for NYCC. The college trip to Howard is cancelled thanks to the looming disaster that is Hurricane Joaquin and I’m allowed to sleep in a little bit, which, given how badly I’ve been sleeping is basically like being given a golden ticket.


I’m up early for no good reason other than I’m now waking up before my alarm clock. Either because I’m not sleeping right or because I know the sounds of shitty top 40 radio enrages me more than the braying sound the alarm makes so to avoid being cranky, I just wake up.

I’m feeling more and more tired as of late and it’s due to large part that my brain is screaming at me about the sleep thing and the fact that I’m just working nearly every day. The funny thing is that I’m also PAINFULLY aware of how close New York Comic Con is and all I want to do is spend time with Waffle in the confines of the smelly aisles of the Javitz Center because in my head I’ve made it my mission to win that heart back and I think that Stockholm Syndrome is a legitimate means of making someone fall back in love with you.

it worked for these two right?

I head to work and get in early enough to walk and watch something on Netflix before settling into an awkward work flow where we all want to be somewhere else and debate the merits of covering the Chik-Fil-A opening.

Mostly for science because supposedly it’s the greatest chicken ever but I feel a little weird wanting to try chicken as supplied by hyper religious bigots who would sooner throw said chicken at me for being bisexual.

I have fast hands and would catch it and eat it with joy but also that’s too much work.

Either way, we finish and walk over to see what the fuss is about and let me tell you, it’s a mile long line, no exaggeration.

I wind up getting Wendys.



Sunday is much nicer weather wise than Saturday or Friday.

It might also be because I got an early morning text message from Waffle.

It’s sickening how my mood, my entire brain chemistry changes once I get a message from her; it’s almost as if I could take on the entire world with an arm strapped to my back, win and be home in time for Once Upon A Time with Waffle and chill. This kind of thing can kill me. In any case I enthusiastically answer the text with the kind of eagerness that basically is embarrassing.

Tramp Stamp

So we agree sorta to meet after work which mercifully goes by quickly.

Netflix and chill is not to be.

Waffle basically slept the entire day away.

I’m not crushed so much as I saw it coming because I’m pretty good at predicting that kind of thing. Either way, the little tingle still lingers.

I wind up doing laundry, eating a sandwich and watching last week’s Grey’s Anatomy On Demand. I wind up making gagging noises while Callie flexes on Arizona and her ‘new girlfriend’.

legit my OTP fight me

It’s like, c’mon man, fucking support the love and just…fix it.


They let all the other trash OTPs get atleast fifteen sporting shots before one of them dies or something Shondalandy happens. Callie goes through a fucking windshield, delivers her premie baby, survives heart failure and physical therapy, MARRIES Arizona who then loses her leg in a plane crash THEN cheats on Callie THEN buy a house together then…

the fuck man?!

Love works somehow in all of this and then they’re like, nah they’re good let them date other people.

My skin crawls.

it’s like no one knows what goes into being that open or vulnerable with humans. They’re awful. They’ll maim you. I believe that love works like a stronger friendship. I call you bro. My best friend. Not because I don’t respect you or don’t love you. You’re the best friend I have. Everyone else is trash.

Anyways. I continue with laundry and prepare myself to throw socks at the TV during Once Upon a Time.

Once Upon a Time and let me tell you…

If they’re not angling Regina and Emma together, they need to tell the production staff because for fuck’s sake, you don’t romcom zoom and light two people who are supposed to be plutonic bros. I mean if you casually cruise the Tumblr tags, it’s basically going to make you a believer.

also I just happen to think that chemistry is something you can’t fight.


They’re totally bros. They watch out for each other in ways that other people don’t.  It’s fuckin’ beautiful.

In anycase, I wind up watching that, getting caught in the feels and watching Fear the Walking Dead.

Then I get another text.

We wind up talking throughout the episode and I gotta say (I also have to admit that I know you’re probably reading this and if you are, well, hi.) it’s still a really nice feeling. I’m still optimistic as hell as evidenced by the most vivid dream I’ve had in a long time that only makes me feel like the universe is listening and for that, I’m thankful.


The world is a blur and I’m told I have an insane task to pull off. Plan a massive field trip, plan an NBA interview, chase after Jack Hanna and his people for paperwork and keep my wits about me while balancing multiple shoots on one day.

It all falls into place somehow.


I honestly don’t remember what happened but there was candy and everyone was happy about that.


I’m in Brooklyn working on this project and I’m wandering the halls of the a government building and I can’t help but wonder if in another life, could I have actually gone into politics.


I live in my head.

We have a great conversation about art and gentrification and I hope that I can find the brain power to really put together something dynamic.

In the meantime, two other shoots go off and I have to pat myself on the back for not completely melting down while exchanging confusing text messages about the status of comic con passes that have suddenly come up as available.

I’m good at multitasking I really am, I may be short circuiting a little because I can’t even come up with a good enough logical answer so I tuck my phone in my pocket and work work work.

I leave at 9.

I get home and watch TV and color. Yes. An adult coloring book works wonders. I have a decent talk with Waffle and for some reason, all the ghosts of the past drift into my mind and I’m immediately reminded that despite the petty arguments and sniping, we’re two people overworked, decently paid and sexless. I wonder if trying to diffuse the tension would help or only throw gasoline onto an already raging nuclear aftermath that is our lives. At this point, given my ranting on Sunday about OUAT all I want to do is find a goddamned happy ending.


Emergency packing and lunching for what will be the best weekend ever.


Jack Hanna planning.


Special edition.

Marshall Mathers LP Turns 15

I’m not okay.

I was probably 14 or 15 at the time. TRL was becoming a juggernaut and I was printing Em lyrics in typing class. I went out to The Wiz and bought it. The cashier pointed out the Parental Advisory sticker (she’d also sold me other tagged albums before) I said, “I know.” and handed over my money.

What would follow was a year of obsessive listening, understanding that not everyone is a happy camper and that there are people who happily talk shit and will hit back. I wasn’t a devout rap fan. I’m a New Yorker and at the time, we know our shit was hype. The rest of the country hadn’t even touched what New York or Los Angeles had with the genre and then here comes Marshall with Detroit on his shoulders, a blonde mop on top and the Mr. Just Don’t Give A Fuck attitude. I had the album on repeat. It’s a lyrical backflip, wordplay and exposing piece of rap that few other albums have ever managed to do. He was struggling with fame, he was struggling with his identity, he was in the beginning stages of addiction, struggling with being the only guy who was willing to be as wild as his lyrics. He was well aware of the target on his back and vented the frustrations into the album that would encapsulate a strange time in pop history. He wound up in verbal sparring (and physical altercations) with lesser rappers (Fucking Benzino) and wind up on top.

I wound up understanding that there was Marshall and there was Slim and there’s Shady. I understood that in order to survive we just make different masks, different personas to cope with the disaster of it all. MMLP came to mark a time in my life where I had no idea what I was doing (still done) felt like I had to have multiple personalities in order to make things happen for myself. It’s true. I created them and they are working, they battle each other a lot of the time but they’re also conflicting representations of who I can be. The irony is that that’s exactly what happened with MMLP; it captures moments from 2000, it captures moments from Em’s life, Marshall’s life, Slim and Shady’s life. It’s a triptych telling one version of events that modern albums don’t do anymore.

It’s a concept record.

The closest we’ve come to another series of albums on that level is Kid Cudi’s Man on The Moon but it’s taking three albums to do what Marshall did in one.

For all the pop and radio friendly tracks, Remember Me, Amittyville, Drug Ballad carried some of the heaviest pieces of lyricism that showed the raw lyrical power that Em posses. It’s why he’s the king of freestyles. It’s why, fifteen years later he can comfortably call himself a Rap God.

MMLP 2 pales in comparison, it’s admittedly a copy paste version of MMLP and stumbles where Recovery soared but he was right when he said “I can put out the same album twice and you retards will buy it.”


Fifteen years later. I love it.