Meeting Of The So-Called Minds

So last night after work I went to the homeowner’s meeting in which we discussed the buy-back offer.
Everything was proceeding nicely. We were presented with a recap, got a little more information about the condo developer’s situation, learned that of the 58 owners there had, at that point, been a confirmed 42 who had accepted the offer, and we learned a little more about what the consequences of not accepting the offer could be.
We then found out that area real estate developers are, naturally, very interested in the fact that there may soon be 58 potential home buyers on the market, and so there’s a lot of opportunity for us to get some great deals, particularly if we were to purchase en masse.
For example, a nearby development is prepared to hold an open house just for us and is offering 6% off the purchase price along with a variety of incentives.
A friend of the woman who’s been doing all the legwork for us, including brokering the offer, was given the floor to speak about some of the opportunities, as he was a realtor and could provide us with a good perspective on the situation.
That’s when things fell apart.
This old German crank started bitching about being “solicited,” and how he came to hear about the buy-back and didn’t want to hear about anything else.
He seemed to think that the realtor was actually representing area developers and/or our condo developer, and thought that this was some sort of attempt to pressure us into taking the deal. That he was concerned about this seemed odd, given that he stated that he actually had accepted the deal and was all for us accepting it.
No amount of talk could convince him that he was an idiot that he had misinterpreted what was happening, and refused to shut up and let the realtor talk even though the rest of us were interested in hearing what the realtor had to say.
He also went off on some rambling rant about mediators and lawyers, but finally shut up after it was stated – and restated – that it’s too late in the game and that if we try to push any harder the developer will just rescind the offer and we’ll be hosed.
Basically he was just a jackass who liked the sound of his own voice. It kind of went like this:

Us: What do you want?
Him: I want to have my say!
Us: Okay, what do you have to say?
Him: That I want to be heard!
Us: Heard saying what?
Him: That I want to have my say!

You get the idea.
The only other thing we learned is that the one old biddy hold-out is doing so because she recently invested $5,000 in putting in new floors and doesn’t want to lose that investment.
We have to hope that she’ll come to understand that she’ll lose even more if she doesn’t agree.
Of course, she didn’t bother to attend either meeting, so that doesn’t bode well.
The cute music teacher was there and she smelled really nice. At one point she leaned forward in her chair and I got a glimpse of her underwear. They were teal and didn’t appear to be very sexy, being along the lines of 100% cotton granny panties.
Just thought I’d mention that.
After the meeting I went home and watched Earl and The Office, then it was off to bed, where I slept for about two hours, woke up for over two hours, then slept for just under four before getting up and coming in to work, where I ended up spending $442, $140 of that inadvertently.
The $342 was spent on a new graphics tablet.
I went with the 6x11 even though, at $60 more, the 9x12 would have been a bargain. I just don’t have the desktop real estate for the 9x12, though, and the 6x11 has the advantage of sharing my monitor’s aspect ratio, and it’s still much bigger than my current 4x5. And being newer it has all the bells and whistles.
The other $140 was spent when Scott accidentally ordered a copy of Adobe Studio 8 when attempting to see if his student discount allows him to purchase more than one copy of it. Since he was investigating that possibility on my behalf, I figured I might as well just buy it from him.
On the topic of buying things, yesterday the back issues I’d ordered came in the mail, which was cool.
As for the bags and boards I ordered a while back, I’d gotten an e-mail from them saying that they were on backorder for 2-3 weeks. That was a month ago, so I sent them an e-mail canceling my order.
Now I need to find another supplier to order from.
Hopefully whatever company I order from will actually have a supply of what they’re selling in stock.
It’s going to be a long day, as is evidenced by the fact that it’s already been a long day and I still have over 8 hours to go.

Calling It A Miss

I decided early on to just call today a miss.
I didn’t go anywhere, never got properly dressed, ate an entire frozen pizza in one sitting, and just generally sat around doing not much of anything.
I’m not even going to venture out to get the mail. I’m not waiting on anything important and it’ll still be there when I get home from work tomorrow, so why bother?
The one thing that I did do was finish up a picture I’d started yesterday.
Someone at work on the weekend overnight shift requested a Heroic Portrait, so last night and today I obliged.
I’m waiting for him to see it and give his go-ahead before I post it.
One of these days I need to totally overhaul the design of the Heroic Portraits site, perhaps making use of my newly-gained knowledge of Flash.
Of course, there hardly seems to be much point; nobody goes there.
I mean, it’s not like people go but don’t stick around the way they do here; they just plain don’t go.
The site gets maybe 10 hits a month (and that’s a big maybe).
So yeah, the time and effort involved in redesigning it seem really worthwhile.
Anyway, I think I might do some work on a picture before my day winds to a close, a picture that doesn’t involve a bare-chested guy flexing his guns, so I guess that will do it for this quarter-assed entry.

Drugs Are Bad, Anti-Drug Comics Are Worse

In the early 1980s there were a couple of comics featuring The New Teen Titans (sort of) that were distributed for free in schools across the country to promote drug education of the Nancy Reagan “Just Say No” variety.
Throughout the years there were a lot of comics like that, such as a Captain America comic promoting energy conservation, Supergirl helping to illustrate the effectiveness of a wearing a seat belt, and, for whatever reason, Superman teaming up with the Nestle Quik Bunny.
There were also the Radio Shack comics that featured Superman defeating Luthor with the aid of a couple of kids and their TRS-80 computer.
In any case, my school never got the first Titans anti-drug comic, but we did get the second.
The comic, which was published by DC in cooperation with the U.S. Department of Education, the U.S. Customs Service, and, for reasons that are utterly beyond me, the Keebler company.
Yes, that would be the Keeebler Elves people, though thankfully Ernie and the rest of the gang did not make an appearance in the main narrative.
The book did not feature the regular Titans line-up, as at that time Dick Grayson had retired from his role as Robin and had not yet picked up the mantle of Nightwing, and so was replaced in the comic by last-minute invention Protector, a sort of off-brand version of Robin.
Kid Flash also bowed out in favor of former Green Arrow sidekick and reserve Titan Speedy, himself a recovering drug addict.
Those weren’t the only, or even most significant, ways in which this book varied from the regular series, though.
As everyone knows, not only are drugs bad, boobs are also bad, so Starfire’s bosom was made considerably less ample, and her costume was modified so as to cover up whatever cleavage might have remained.
Despite these changes, the artwork of New Teen Titans co-creator George Perez was, as always, phenomenal, though the story, by necessity, was heavy-handed and preachy and always cycled back to the point, which was that drugs are bad.
I remember being excited when I heard about this book and had seen an image from it on the news. Why? Well, as I’ve mentioned many times, I was a huge Titans fan, and the idea of getting a free copy (though given that my parents bought them for me, all of my comics were free) of a Titans comic was exciting in and of itself.
However, what pushed it over the top was the glimpse of the never before seen by my eyes character of Protector.
You see, as mentioned, Dick Grayson had given up on being Robin and had stepped down as leader of the Titans, and someone else – a kid named Jason Todd – had become the new Robin.
However, it was made clear from the start that Dick, despite turning in his hot pants and pixie boots, had no intention of giving up on costumed crime fighting for good, so the question was, once he finally finds himself, what will his new identity be?
This question, to give you an idea of how much of a nerd I am (as if you didn’t know), literally kept me awake at night.
So when I saw Protector, I thought, “Is this it? Is this the new identity?”
Of course it wasn’t, and eventually (a year later), Dick finally took on his new name and put on his new costume, a costume that was…incredibly gay.
That’s my view of the costume now. At the time, I thought it was cool as hell.
(Since that time his costume has been modified and updated and it actually is cool as hell.)
In any case, I was disappointed to discover that this comic did not contain the reveal, and was even more disappointed in the actual content of the story. I mean, okay, I get it, drugs are bad and they’ll kill you if you use them even if you don’t think that will (or perhaps especially if you don’t think they will).
And if I thought it was bad then, let me just say that it hasn’t improved after 24 years.
After the main story, the comic had a few pages of activities (which did feature Ernie Keebler) designed to help to reinforce the ideas presented in the comic.
I decided to scan in and complete one of the activity pages and post it here.
I hope I put down the right answers, because I don’t want to end up being addicted to drugs.
(Hey, booze is legal, so that addiction doesn’t count.)



I would suggest that those of you reading this post your own Choices in the Comments, but that’s pretty pointless because as almost no one but Scott posts comments unless it’s to insult me or to accuse me of not liking Rachel Weisz.
(I like Rachel Weisz. I like her a lot. Okay?)

Now You Don't Have To Spit On Your Rubik's Cube To Keep It Moving Smoothly: You Can Just Spit On It Because It's Scum!

I found this ad in an old comic and had to share it. There's nothing I need to say about it; it speaks for itself.

The Semi-Slutty Emo Sundress

I got up this morning and prepared to venture out into the world to go grocery shopping, but soon realized that it’s been a while since I’d last done the laundry, and so I had no clean socks.
Having no other options – apart from wearing dress socks, which I didn’t want to do on such a warm day because they get really sweaty, sticky, and generally nasty when it’s hot out – I decided to delay the journey out a little more than usual and first do a load of laundry.
In addition to picking up groceries I had to go to the post office to pick up a certified letter. It’s the official buy-back offer from the condo developer. Naturally they tried to deliver it while I was at work. Three out of five weekdays I’m at home; they had to try to deliver it on one of the two that I’m not?
Anyway, there was, naturally, a substantial line at the post office, longer even than the one at Subway yesterday, though this one, surprisingly, moved much more quickly.
I don’t really know how things stand on the buy-back front. The other owners had a meeting on Saturday, which I obviously didn’t go to, and they haven’t given those of us who were absent any real info, as they’re planning to have a weeknight meeting for anyone who missed it.
After I left the post office it was off to the grocery store.
While there I saw a kind of interesting chick whom I wanted to get a closer look at to see if she was actually cute, but I never saw her again after the initial glimpse.
She seemed like this sort of “alternative” art-school type who, now that she’s in the real world, is trying to go a little more mainstream, but not quite hitting the mark, and because it was a very warm day she was also dressing for comfort, so the end result was an outfit that can only be described as a semi-slutty emo sundress.
Basically it was a black dress that was almost baby-doll nightie short and showed off as lot of leg (she had a tattoo on her ankle), paired with some business-casual high-heeled patent leather black sandals.
Like I said, she looked interesting, so I wanted to get another, closer look at her, but she had cleared out before I could nonchalantly cross paths with her.
I did get a closer look at someone else who seemed kind of cute at first, but upon closer inspection was not so cute as I’d thought (or quite so young as she evidently thought she was based on how she was dressed).
Throughout it all I was followed by the persistent sound of some kid who was testing out his ability to go “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH” for extended periods of time and at as high a pitch as possible.
He was pretty good at it.
After that it was home again where I killed some time stuffing more boards into more bags and then stuffing some comics into them.
And now this.

If Wishes Were Horses I’d Probably Fall Off And Shatter My Coccyx Department:
Yesterday I was talking about how I really don’t ask for much out of life (mostly just because I know better than to bother), and yet even the small things that I do ask for seem to be too much.
Still, I thought it would make for an interesting segment to try to imagine what the world might be like if some of my petty wishes were to come true.
So let’s just imagine that I’ve gotten hold of a magic lamp containing a genie (most likely a male one, because, you know, a cute female one would be too much to ask for) who has the power to grant simple and practical wishes.

First of all, I’d be able to find pants that are the right length and that don’t curl under the heels of my shoes, causing me to constantly step on them and make them all ragged and frayed.
In general, the world would be less sticky to the touch.
Hangnails: nothing but a distant and fading memory.
Better reaction times for anyone and everyone ahead of me when the light turns green.
I would be a lot less gassy.
Everyone would have minty fresh breath, and would, across the board, understand the importance of showering and the proper application of deodorant.
TV stations would not pre-empt or intterupt The Simpsons for anything short of the Apocalypse, and even then they would just put a little ticker on the bottom of the screen.
Someone would post really ultra-high quality and resolution captures of that movie scene in which Scarlett Johansson scrambles to cover herself with a towel when someone walks in on her after she’s just finished bathing so that I would have sufficient detail to work with when attempting to draw it.
Or conversely, my meager talents would be up to the challenge of drawing it using the captures I have.
As a final alternative, I would not want to draw it.
Someone would be able to explain, so that I could understand, why Martin Lawrence and Jamie Kennedy have successful movie careers.
I’d be a little less itchy all the time.
I’d see that pretty girl who smiles at me that I sometimes see again.
Bread wouldn’t go moldy so quickly.
I would remember that I need things like butter, or that my bread has probably gone moldy, while I’m at the store before I get home and try to make grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch.
On a related note, I would actually make a shopping list before going to the store, remember to take said list with me to the store, and actually bother to look at it while I’m shopping at the store.

And that pretty much covers it, I think. It doesn’t seem too unreasonable (Except for the never pre-empting The Simpsons thing, I guess. Still, at the very least, they could do a better job of reporting on whatever it is they’re reporting on when they do pre-empt or interrupt the show.), or too earth-shattering. Some of it you would think that I should be able to just manage on my own without a wish-granting genie, but apparently such is not the case.

In any event, that pretty much wraps up this entry, proving that, at least for some of you out there, wishes can come true.

GAH!

This (foreign) ad for eating disorder awareness packs a pretty strong punch.



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Jon: The Triumphant Return...No, Wait. Not "Triumphant." Let's Just Call It The Return.

So it’s been a few days since I posted anything, and I can’t help but wonder how you managed to get by without reading about how boring my life is and how I don’t like people and I’d rather not go anywhere and I read comic books and etc., but somehow I’m sure you did.
What’s happened in the interim? I finished my Flash training...without calling the instructor rude names or telling her where she could shove various and sundry items.
God she was annoying.
Basically, any time she said something she would need us to tell her that we heard and understood what she said. She would not proceed until she got feedback.
And it had to be universal. It wasn’t enough for Scott and I to tell her we heard/understood, she would also need the people on the other side of the room to acknowledge her.
I can’t imagine how anyone could go through life being so needy.
While I avoided lashing out at her, I did make my feelings pretty clear.
Whenever she would ask something, like, “Guys, you with me?” I would respond in as annoyed a tone as possible with something like, “Yes, we’re with you.”
Scott found my unbridled annoyance amusing, though I think it went right over her head.
Beyond her neediness, she also didn’t seem to be very bright, and a lot of the Flash-based sites that she showed us as examples and referred to as being “tight” were perfect examples of all the things that are wrong with so many Flash-based sites, though in fairness some of them were pretty cool.
There was one chick in the class who was pretty hot, though much of her hotness stemmed from the fact that she had a really nice ass, which sort of balanced out some her shortcomings, though even with a lesser ass she still would have been cute.
At one point in the class I leaned over to Scott and told him, “I would totally bang her. I just wanted you to know that about me.” He said that he pretty much already knew that about me.
On Thursday Scott and I stopped at the comic book store on the way home from work. I dropped another $60 bucks, but that was largely because I bought the hardcover collection of issues 1-6 of All Star Superman.
Once I get into the groove of buying only the regular series I intend to buy, it should start getting a little cheaper.
I hope.
On Saturday we made another dash there because we thought we’d forgotten something, or rather, I thought we had, but it turns out it’s not coming out until this week.
(The book in question was Amazons Attack, which we figure we should read because we’ve started picking up the latest Wonder Woman series based on the rumor that Gail Simone is going to be taking over the writing chores. I hope it’s true and that she does it soon, because so far, New York Times best-seller or not, the current writer, Jodi Picoult, is not impressing me. In fact, she’s doing the exact opposite of impressing me. She’s kind of like the Anti-Gail, and Gail can’t come riding down from heaven to defeat her soon enough. The current penciller, whose name escapes me, is okay, but is not as good as the husband and wife team of Terry and Rachel Dodson, who had been handling the art on the book.)
While I was there, as I still haven’t been shipped the bags and boards I ordered almost a month ago, I picked up some bags and boards, figuring I could at least bag my latest purchases and some of the older stuff that’s precious to me.
Speaking of books that are precious to me, I also spent $50 on Friday ordering some back issues to replace lost and/or damaged comics from year’s past.
This picking back up an old habit thing is pricey. It’d probably be cheaper to start smoking again, and about as worthwhile.
Being able to sleep past 7 AM on a Sunday morning really doesn’t seem like that much to ask for, but, based on the barking dog, sirens, and helicopters that made doing so impossible this morning, it seems that the Universe just doesn’t see it that way.
I did eventually get back to sleep and make it all the way to 9 AM, but I had to put so much energy into making myself sleep despite the cacophony that I woke up exhausted.
I’m the only person I know who can wear himself out by sleeping.
Honestly, though, I think the reason I’m so angry all the time is that I really don’t ask for much out of life – a little peace and quiet here and there, a decent night’s sleep, etc. – and yet I don’t even manage to get that.
Oh sure, I’m doing okay as far as material things go, but when it comes to the little things…well, every once in a while I’d just like to have a day on which I don’t have to listen to barking dogs, I don’t bang my head against something, stub my toe, cut myself in some mysterious and bewildering fashion, or choke on food/water/my own spit.
Oh well. At least there are some things in life that are good, like The Venture Bros. Season Two on DVD, which came out on Tuesday.
On the way to the comic shop yesterday we stopped at Target so I could pick up a copy, though I actually ended up watching Scott’s copy while I was at work (very slow day).
I watched the entire season, except for one episode that, while great, I’ve seen a lot.
That’s twelve half-hour episodes of the show. And that’s on top of having read all the comics (except the All Star Superman HC) I’d bought on Thursday and several comics online, filling 100 comic book bags with backer boards and bagging all the comics I had with me. Add on some Web surfing, the aforementioned trip to Target and the comic shop, and some actual work, and you begin to get an idea of just how long a twelve and a half hour workday is when your job is almost entirely reactive and there’s nothing going on for you to react to.
(It’s worse when there is something to react to because it doesn’t make the time go faster it just makes it more irritating.)
Today, after talking to my mother and spending some time doing not much of anything, I decided, because it’s gorgeous out, to walk down to Subway to pick up lunch and dinner.
There were about eight people ahead of me in line, and out of all of the people there I was the only one who was ordering something only for himself. Everyone else was placing family orders.
So it took a while.
After getting home and eating half my sub I went to work on writing some Web site copy for Kathleen’s company. Her boss had called me on Wednesday when I’d forgotten to turn my cell phone off in class and asked me if I was up to maybe taking on some writing projects, which, of course, I was.
And all of that, brought me here, though not entirely in that order.
And now you have your fix of random complaints, observations, and pointless Jon minutiae.
Happy?