Comic Book Comics and Pomelo Juice

I am really really really trying to get through the newest issue of Comic Book Comics. The issue is so dense that it reads more like a chapter of a book than a comic book. Now, that's not a bad thing. I've been enjoying the Comic Book Comics; I think as a relatively new comic book reader (since about 2005) and I don't know much about the history of comics. CCB is a great introduction to the history, and they offer a lot of information.

But, alas, I seem to have a attention spam of a mayfly these days, so reading through the newest issue is getting tough.

However! Thanks to my inability to read more than twenty words in a row, I am prone to jump into a new project every other millisecond. This weeks project was working on the amazing pomelo fruit! If you've never seen a pomelo, think of a grapefruit slightly larger than your own head.

It's a beast of a fruit, but damn is it good in a cocktail. If you want to use it, get an electric juicer. Seriously, we just picked one up a few weeks ago and the thing is a amazing. Any and all citrus tastes 100% better when mixed with booze, so a juicer just helps them get into liquor a whole lot quicker.

The Chinese Dog Screw (working title)

Components

1/2 of a pomelo, juiced

1 navel orange, juiced

three shots of vodka

Mix all of this together, pour over ice and drink away that hurt you got in your brain from reading big words. Makes two servings, or one large hangover.

Photo Credit: Taken from a great blog which sadly doesn't seem to be updated anymore. Edible Oddities

Amazing Fan Girl Cake!

Holy crap, did I just find my future wedding cake? Look at this! Look at this amazing confection of comic amazement! Stop what ever you're doing and check out this girl's totally bitching cakes. Yes, I said cakes. Do you see all those little cakes in the background? She made those, too! My favorite part is the fact that Wolverine is standing on his original yellow costume.

Oh, and while you're at it, you can check out her sweet Discworld cake and giant taco cake. Move over Bartles and Jaymes, there's a new personal hero in town.

The Intrepids - Comics Review

I am a sucker for any comics featuring punchy girl heros and 60's go-go boots. If there are robotics and updos, I am on it faster than my lips on a bottle of Brotherhood Spice Wine. So of course, I picked up a copy of The Intrepids #1. And who won't pick up a copy? There's an giant bear robot, a rocket girl, and a huge dude throwing a car! And Scott Kowalchuck's artwork is amazing tight for somebody who only graduated art school a couple of years ago. Two years out of school, and the guy has this great blocky/cartoony vibe which has become my new favorite style. While two years out of college I didn't have health insurance and I was buying food from the dollar store. Boxes of almost expired turkey stuffing was only 50¢. Let's dial back on the sadness factor...

To continue, the story starts off as almost a comic trope. We get introduced to the team (Cyrstal the sharpshooter, Doyle the muscle, Rose the rocket girl, and Chester the IT dude) where they have to fight a factory that creates robot animal hybrids, including the robot bear from the cover. I'll be sad to not see the bear robot again, because really, any animal robot in a comic makes it an instant hit in my book.*** After that, we get introduced to Dante, the old dude and leader of the group. Through flash backs, we understand that they were all lonely kids who were taken in by Dante and all robotically/chemically enhanced to become (dun, dun, dun) The Intrepids! Now they have to go off and fight Doctor Koi, ex-lab partner now arch enemy of Dante (I warned you about the tropes).

So, while a little typical, the artwork and relatively punchy dialogue will have me back for at least one more issue, I'm not too keen on the story as a whole. I'd definitely pick the trade if I find it at a con, but might skip out on picking up the full floppy run.

***Except for We3, the saddest animal robot comic ever. And all you need to see is one panel to know that's the truth. Never give me a comic where there are sad animals if you don't want me to sob uncontrollably for a few hours and then whimper at random intervals for the rest of the night. I barely got through Sea-Guy after that flying tuna died (oops, spoiler).

Breaking News!

The Onion (that website you go onto so you can make jokes with that one other dude who's under 40 at your office) is now hitting the streets of Philadelphia.
That's right, the internet is dead! Long live print media!
If you don't believe me, here's a copy I snagged at lunch. If it wasn't a cellphone photo, you could see in the corner there's a tiny little PHI, which stands for Philadelphia (or some guy named Phil didn't finish writing his name).

Bendis gets lost

I'm really enjoying the current run of Avengers. The Bendis dialogue isn't that bad, the story is good, and the Romita artwork is amazing.

My issue is Bendis doesn't have an the internet.

I know! It's hard to believe this guy who's one of the biggest names in comics, has his hands in almost every Marvel story line, AND has his own Twitter account CANNOT GET ON THE INTERNET. It sucks, I understand, sometimes, you think you have an iPhone, but really, it's just a brick painted black with some sequins glued on it.

Why do I assume Bendis isn't WiFi ready? Well, had he had access to Google, he would have been smart enough to make sure Area 51 (which apparently Tony Stark owns), is not in Roswell, New Mexico, but is actually in Nevada, off the shores of Groom Lake. Now, for the record, I didn't know exactly where in Nevada Area 51 is located (the squarer the state, the more I am lost), but I did know of this thing called Wikipedia, where I can search for and find the information I am looking for. And, if he searched just a millisecond longer, he could have found that there's actually a lot of reviews for Area 51. But it's OK, dude, sometimes, I just can't be bothered to fact check either (example: see this blog).

And since we're remotely on topic, why would Roswell, New Mexico even be a thing in the Marvel Universe? They were invaded by Skrulls last year! Doesn't every single person know what a freaking alien looks like? There are giant green and red dudes punching the crap out of each other, why the heck would people care about a spaceship?! Seriously, there are a bunch of freaking aliens in the Marvel Universe. Tony Stark would have made more sense if he stuck the gem in a Swiss bank.

Stan Lee made the amazing techno-colored puppy coat!

So, the big comic news of the month is Stan Lee's Hockey Guardians, which are NHL themed characters. Now, I'm never one to judge (Ahhhhhahahaha), but I'm guessing some hockey brohs got drunk on jager shots and decided to make some money off of the whole "Iron Man Spider Man" thing. Congrats, dudes, you've finally learned how to crib geek culture like everyone else (it only took you thirty years).

Anyway, what ever, I don't watch hockey, and unless it's a Pet Avengers tie-in I'll never even read these comics (watch the cartoons? I don't even know what they're doing with all these dudes). Until, that is, I saw this:

IT'S A DUDE WHO HAS A PUPPY CREATING JACKET!

Seriously, this is now my new favorite character (Until Troll from Thunderbolts finally starts kicking some ass). He can create dogs from his jacket! Does it get any better? Can his dollar store Wolverine knock-off helmet tap a keg and pour me a pint?! Are his Rob Liefeld pouches filled with nachos?! Are his upper arms chafing in that leather trench coat?! Why does every "dark badass" character have to wear a leather trench coat?!

If that dude could make me some tacos, get me a brew AND find me an adorable pet, I might actually start watching hockey (ahahahahahahaha...snort, choke, gasp for breathe, fall back on the couch and continue to eat some cheese fries).

You're getting the idea, right?

Pepsi to release new 'skinny can'

I don't know how well you are at reading between the lines, but Pepsi is trying to point out women should be celebrated when they are skinny. You! You fat girl! Stop drinking Pepsi right now! That is only for rejoicing in the wonder that is the skinny, thin, svelte woman! If you are fat, STAY WAY.
Am I reading too much into that? Actually, no, I don't think I am.

Quick Note

Apparently, I've had seven (7!) hits from the lovely country of Moldova.

If any of you Moldovans are reading this right now, and assuming you like me, please feel free to send me any crates of your country's wine that you don't want.

If you do so, I promise you my posts will start getting funnier.

To all of you that have found my blog by searching "various comic title" and "boobs," I am sorry I have no actual breasts on display.

Please feel free to also send me crates of wine you don't want, and though I can't promise, the possibility of me posting pictures of breasts will go up at least half a precent.

The Flu and Comics

When one gets sick, so sick that they don't even have the strength to lift their hands to their head while shampooing, one stays in bed all day, demanding that their boyfriend buys comics and brings them cup after cup of Sickly Toddies.

Sickly Toddies are not actually good for you when sick. I just like to pretend they are. And since somebody hasn't gotten on that whole comic demand, I am posting a cocktail recipe instead:

Sickly Toddy:

Components:

3/4 coffee mug of hot water

1 tablespoon of sugar

1 shot of Kraken rum

dash of orange bitters

pinch of ground slippery elm (pick this up at your local new age homeopathic shop)

Get somebody to mix all of this stuff up into a coffee mug and serve it to you piping hot. DO NOT MIX WITH COLD MEDICATION (unless you like to party like Gary Busey...if you do, what the hell is wrong with you?).

slow claps which then build to faster ones for Amanda Palmer

I really should like Amanda Palmer. She wears striped socks and is spunky! She plays the ukulele! She shaves her eyebrows then paints weird tribal designs over them (actually, scratch that; it looks like bad goth party makeup)!

I say I should like her, because, well, I don't. Her music sounds like the drunk caterwauling of an overly praised drama student. Her feverish attacks on the piano are insanely overbearing in 90% of her songs. Everything is a damn cabaret torch song.

And then, that girl comes out with this:

What. The. Fuck.

Amanda Palmer, is this a fucking dance song?! A DANCE SONG ABOUT MERKINS?! Holy crap, how could I not love this? It's (dare I say it?) amazing. Honestly, Amanda Palmer, if your new album is entirely just like this song, not only will I buy it, but I will handcraft just for you, every single project from this Anticraft issue.