I was dancing in front of a mirror a few years ago (alone, at home thank the Lord) when I had a stunning realization — I can’t dance anymore. I qualify the statement with an “anymore” because there was a time, self-deluded or not, during my freshman and sophomore years of college, when I thought I could actually dance. But I threw down a couple of moves on myself and realized I looked like I was jackhammering a sidewalk. I saw in myself what I’d seen in countless old men with syncopated hips at millions of weddings over the years, an eager face and an overbite and a body that looked like an unbalanced washing machine. I think this cartoon is born of my loss of dance innocence.
Archive for May, 2008
I feel like cleaning products get short-shrift in comics. I’ve never seen a humorous talking bucket or a cocky wash rag. So this new character is a shape-shifter who can turn into any household cleaning product. His name is Mop.
I’ve been watching the show “Deadliest Catch” on Discovery and I think I’ve seen 25 episodes in the last three days. Total marathon. It’s a great show, definitely watch it.
So on my flight home the other day for the long weekend there was this airline attendent who looked vaguely familiar to me. I knew I’d never met the guy, but something about him was familiar. So I’m getting all strapped into my seat and I look up and I realize — holy crap, the guy looks exactly like Clark Kent! The Christopher Reeve version, which to me is the best. He was all broad-shouldered and slim-waisted and square-jawed and wore these thick-rimmed glasses just like Kent. He even had the little gelled curly-cue bangs thing going on. He was just older, maybe in his mid-fifties. So he gets on the radio, like flight attendants do, and ran through the instructions — the exit hatches are there, the emergency lighting is there, etc. and then at the end, I swear to God, he goes, “And if you need anything, my name is Clark.” I’m serious. I had to double-check with the lady sitting next to me, and she confirmed it. I then mentioned how I thought he looked just like Clark Kent when the guy behind me said he heard the guy was Reeve’s cousin. But what was the most shocking of all was he had this little effeminite voice. This big guy who I expected any minute to rip off his tight suit to reveal a shining “S” on his chest had this dinky voice. And he tried so hard to seem small but his barrel shoulders kept knocking into everyone’s seat on the little puddle jumper as he delivered drinks and pretzels. Anyway, I felt better knowing that if the plane started to go down, Superman had our backs.
Don’t know what sparked this one. Maybe that it’s finally summer and we can finally sit in front of fans! I’ve been waiting all this long winter to be able to bake in the heat and cool off in front of my WindChaser.
Giving hard-working, honest people basic civil rights intstead of denying them feels right to me. Call me crazy if you will.
My fiance bought me a gyro from an ice cream shop that happens to also make gyros last night, and it was super good. Sometimes you find good food in the weirdest places. Just thought I’d share.