Because Of Course I Have

Over in the Archie Comics corner of the comics universe, a story is underway in which they will be – sort of – killing off the eternal teenager who serves as the publisher’s namesake.
I say “sort of” because it’s happening in just one of the comics they publish, a series entitled Life With Archie, which, inasmuch as there’s any real continuity in Archie comics, is an out of continuity comic.  That’s my understanding, at least: I occasionally read things about Archie Comics, but I don’t actually read any of the comics themselves, and haven’t done so for decades.  The closest I’ve come is reading the utterly fantastic Criminal:  The Last of the Innocent, which, deservedly so, was on all sorts of “best of” lists a few years back.
(Archie tends to be in the news – at least the comics news – frequently, as they’ve done a lot of interesting things lately, such as introducing an enormously popular openly-gay character, launched a horror comic called Afterlife With Archie, with a complementary horror-centric Sabrina the Teenage Witch comic on the way, and apparently* they tagged Girls creator Lena Dunham to write a comic.)
In any case, the upcoming issue featuring the final fate of young Mr. Andrews is going to feature a lot of variant covers by different artists, including this fantastic cover by AH! himself, Adam Hughes.
Earlier today I shot the link above to Scott, which prompted the inevitable question:  Betty or Veronica?
I replied that for years my default answer, without even really thinking about it, was Betty.  Granted, Veronica is rich, and, in theory more physically attractive than Betty (in practice, owing to the general artistic style of Archie Comics, they tend to look the same, just with different hair), and I do tend to prefer dark-haired women to blondes, but Betty wins out largely due to her personality.  She’s more good-natured, less high-strung, and not nearly so high-maintenance.
However, in recent years I’ve found myself drifting a little more towards Team Veronica.  Ultimately, my answer hasn’t changed – it’s still Betty.  However, it’s not as reflexive a response as it once was.
After explaining all of this, I said, “And yes, I have thought about this a lot.”
Because of course I have.
So what has changed over the years to make me less steadfast in my choice?  (By the way, in a perfect world, my answer to the question “Betty or Veronica?” would be “Yes.  And also Midge.  And Josie.  And the Pussycats.  And Sabrina.”)
Scott asked if I’d become a gold digger.  It’s not that, though sure, the money would be appealing.  If anything, it’s just that I’ve become more shallow.
But no, it’s not really that, either.  Despite the fact that I’ve thought about it a lot, I’m not really sure that I know the answer, other than that when I was younger, I was more drawn to the tomboy, girl next door type, but as I’ve gotten older I’ve developed more of an appreciation for the more, for want of a better term, girly types.  At the very least, I can appreciate someone who is very well put-together.
(And yes, this is all horribly objectifying, but we are talking about actual objects, given that neither Betty nor Veronica is a real woman, and to the extent that this is at all applicable to real women, it’s more to do with general archetypes than anything else.  Or something.  And of course it should go without saying that the assumption is that we’re talking about adult versions of Betty and Veronica.)
The other questions that this discussion raised was, beyond the obvious “Because of course I have” response, why have I given this a lot of thought?
As mentioned, I don’t actually read any of the comics, so what brings it to mind?  Well, Betty and Veronica’s floating heads adorn one of the signs on my spinner rack, so that’s probably part of it, but really it’s just a matter of spending a lot of time thinking about all sorts of comic book women.
Comics do, after all, play a big role in who I am, and my interest in them is something of a defining characteristic.  It’s only natural, then, that comic book women have an impact on my thoughts about and interactions with actual women.  I’ve mentioned in other posts about how certain women in comics have had an influence on the kind of women I’m attracted to.
And the fact is that I spend more time thinking about women like Lois Lane, Jinal, Zatanna, Kitty Pryde, and a host of others, but Betty and Veronica find their way into the mix as well.
One of these days I might get around to actually writing up a post exploring just what impact the fictional women listed above have had on my feelings about actual women – at least in terms of what qualities I find attractive – but this isn’t that post.
Mostly I just wanted to get you all to look at that awesome AH! cover, and also share my amusement at my own statement about thinking about this a lot.

*That’s a sarcastic “apparently.”  I’ve got a news app on my phone that, amongst other things, is set to find me articles about comics.  At the time that the Dunhman-penned story was announced, there was a period of several days in which the only results I got – mostly from non-comics news sources – were about Lena Dunham writing an Archie story.

A New Branch Of Science

Scott:  That'd be awesome
Me:  which is why it won't happen.
Scott:  ayup
Me:  life is fundamentally opposed to awesomeness.
Scott:  Seems like an unexplored law of thermodynamics or another branch of physics
Me:  heh
Me:  The Quantum Theory of Life's Fundamental Opposition to Awesomeness
Scott:  lol, exactly
Me:  "When you get down to very smallest levels of existence, you will find the suckyon, the most fundamental particle of matter.  Suckyon exerts a strong oppositional force to the awesomuon, the building block of awesomeness."
Scott:  Which is unfortunate for the awesomuon, as its half life is measured in only a few picoseconds.
Me:  this phenomenon has been labelled "Shitty Action at a Distance."
Scott:  Yes, as owing to the uncertainty principle, awesomuons cannot be observed at close distances.
Me:  a lesser-known attribute of the "shrodinger's cat" thought experiment is that regardless of the outcome, things will turn out shitty, and the cat exists in a superposition in which it is both alive and dead and also terrible.
Scott:  suckyons are just that powerful. The half-life of a suckyon, in contrast to an awesomuon is measured in decades, which explains the 70s, 80s, and 90s.
Me:  this demonstrates the principle that light is a particle and a wave and it also sucks.
Scott:  One would think that the opposite would be true in the absence of light. But no, suckyons are plentiful regardless of the levels of light present.
Me:  i wonder how well this will hold up to peer review?
Scott:  I don't know, but we'll never get it published anyway. Just mentioning the suckyon is enough to draw it out in mass quantities.
Me:  it's true.  i'll have to pursue publication in the alternative press.  i'm sure i could get it into some creationist science journal.
Me:  or get us a show on the history channel
Scott:  Hm, I'm trying to decide which of those is more likely.
Scott:  They're probably about even.
Me:  yeah.  throw in "Aliens!" and it'll be THC.  substitute "total depravity/fallen world" for suckyon, and the creationists will eat it up.
Scott:  Yup, very true.
Me:  ooh!  i can tip it towards creationism!  "The Irreducible Complexity of Suckiness."
Scott:  lol
Scott:  Throw in one word about it being mentioned in Daniel and Revelation and we'd be gold in the PMD world.
Me:  "As can clearly be seen by a careful reading of Daniel, Revelation, Leviticus, and the Left Behind series, the level of suckiness in the world cannot be explained by natural causes alone and must therefore require a shitty designer."
Scott:  Yeah, I think you've got something there.

It’s Kind Of Unavoidable

Me:  Wanna break in the new Five Guys tonight?
Scott:  Er…
Me:  …by which  I mean that I have five guys imprisoned in my house and I’m suggesting that we sodomize them.
Me:  Wait.
Me:  Not that.
Me:  The other thing.

Yes, they’ve opened a Five Guys Burgers and Fries in Leesburg, which is something that I’ve simultaneously hoped for and feared.
Hoped for because the burgers and fries are so good, feared because the burgers and fries are so good.
All I can say is that it’s a damn good thing they don’t deliver, because otherwise I would rapidly turn into something like Jabba the Hut.
And instead of having Princess Leia in a leather and metal bikini I’d have severe neuropathy and renal failure.
In any case, with a name like “Five Guys,” talking about getting food from there makes conversations like the one nearly impossible to avoid.

There Has To Be SOME Kind Of Upside

(Note:  I accidentally deleted the text thread, so I’m relying on my faulty memory, which means this probably isn’t verbatim.)

A while back I had two Heroic Portrait orders, one of which had a deadline, and the other of which was for “whenever.”
After a lot of effort – I think that if my flat fee represented an hourly rate I did it for under $5 an hour, given all of the time I put into it – I finished the first one on time, and after taking a break I got to work on the “whenever” one.
If the first one represented a lot of effort, the second represents a monumental amount of effort.  (I’m probably making fractions of a cent per hour at this point.)
I think I may be finished with it, finally, but I decided I wanted a second opinion before I sent the proof to the client, so I texted it to Scott.

Me:  Take a look at this and LMK what you think.  I’m too sick of looking at it to be objective.
Scott:  Hm.  Her head placement looks odd.
Me:  Your head placement looks odd.
Scott:  LOL, true, but I thought you wanted my opinion.

Okay, so I was a being a tad defensive and reflexively hostile, but I was thinking about it afterwards and I realized something.
Given that it has not, to date, brought me fame, fortune, women, or even any significant amount of personal satisfaction, my “art” should at least earn me the right to be a temperamental artist.
I mean, there has to be some kind of benefit to it.
I think I’ve earned at least that much, because I sure as hell haven’t earned anything else.  (Especially not fortune or women.)

In my continued attempts at divahood, I sent this in response:

Me:  Fuck, shit, etc.  I quit.  She can’t have it.

Shortly after my mini-tantrum, I made some edits.

Me:  *Sigh*  How about now?
Scott:  I don’t know.  I think it looks pretty good.

Ah yes, “pretty good.”  The kind of ebullient praise that artists thrive on and devote their lives to earning.
*Sigh*

To Be Fair, That Wouldn't Make It Different From Most Saturdays

Scott:  Your birthday is on a weekend this year?
Me:  Yeah, a Saturday.
Scott:  Want to do something?
Me:  I don't know.  Like what?
Scott:  I don't know.  It's your birthday.
Me:  I was planning on just doing the usual:  crying and masturbating.
Scott:  Well...maybe in between your bouts of that we could do something.
Me:  Ehh...
Scott:  ...unless you're planning it as an all-day event?
Me:  I just might be.

ALL The Hats

(On Wednesday)
Me:  We should get some kind of expensive food tomorrow.  I don't know what that entails, but it seems like the thing to do.
Me:  Tomorrow is bonus day.
Scott:  I'm down with that.

(Later, it was determined that we would end up moving "movie night" to that evening instead of the typical Thursday.)
Me:  Given the circumstances, we might have to go with default pizza tonight.  We can do the expensive food thing next week.  I'll still have $$$.
Scott:  Unless you spend it all on hats.
Me:  That's a real danger.  I'm browsing hats4alloccasions.com right now.
Scott:  They have so many hats!
Me:  They have ALL the hats.

Who Else?

Scott:  I’ve never heard anything by Pantera.
Me:  I’m open-minded enough to not hold that against you.
Scott:  That’s good, because who would you go to RiffTrax movies with?
Me:  Hookers.

Random Bits Of Randomness

Taxonomy Department:Scott and I have decided that henceforth all movie sequels should follow this naming convention:
If it’s the first sequel, it must be subtitled “Electric Boogaloo.”
If it’s the second sequel (third movie in the series), the subtitle should be the title of the movie with an “ing” added to it.
Examples:  “Taken 2:  Electric Boogaloo”  “Taken 3:  The Takening.”
Moviemakers are free to subtitle any additional sequels however they see fit, because, frankly, who cares after that?  By the time you hit the fourth movie it’s just a phoned-in money grab.
Additionally, subtitling the first sequel “The Wrath of [Title']” is also acceptable.  (“Taken 2:  The Wrath of Taken.”)
This why, even though it was a terrible movie, I want to see sequels for “The Happening,” so that we can see posters for “The Happening 2:  Electric Boogaloo” and “The Happening 3:  The Happeninging.”

In Case You Hadn’t Guessed Department:
Scott and I went to see “Taken 2.*”  I never really tire of watching Liam Neeson kill people with ruthless efficiency.

Less Chat, More Bloodletting Department:Guy Drawing My Blood (GDMB):  You ready for the weekend?
Me:  Sure.
GDMB:  Going to watch any games?
Me:  No.
GDMB:  Going to watch the debate tonight?
Me:  Probably not. (Thinking)  Stop trying to find common ground with me, hu-man.
Certifiably Professional Department:
Another week, another pointless professional certification:  ITIL Intermediate Certificate in Service Transition.
If I collect eight more certifications I can…take another certification exam.

Sounds Like This Guy I Know Department:
(Former) Boss:  He just thinks he’s smarter than everyone else.
Me:  I know someone like that.  In fact, I see him right now, standing there in that mirror in front of me.
Me:  The difference is that the guy in the mirror actually is smarter than everyone else.

I Don’t Know Who I Am Anymore Department:
As can be inferred by the Department above, I had a diabetes check up today.
It was kind of odd – and it feels odd to cite this as an example of it being odd – in that the doctor didn’t really do many of the things he usually does, like feel up my feet.
Normally he does that to test to see if there’s been any loss of sensitivity due to neuropathy.  I kind of dislike it, particularly when he scrapes some sort metal implement along my soles to see if I react.  Naturally, I do, as it’s uncomfortable.  Beyond that, I’m just not particularly fond of having someone touch my feet. 
He also taps a tuning fork and then presses that against my ankles and asks me to tell him when I feel the vibrations stop.
But he didn’t do any of that, and while I certainly didn’t miss it, it seemed odd that he didn’t do it for the first time in the two and a half years that I’ve been going in for check ups.
I suppose that, at this point, given my history, there’s not much need to be concerned about it.  He said, “A lot of people would actually say you’re cured.  I know better than to say that, because it can always pop up again, but you’re in very good shape right now.”
In any case, having fasted the night before, and being in Ashburn, due to a scheduling snafu, I decided to stop somewhere for breakfast/lunch.
There’s a Five Guys near the medical center, so I considered that, but I was in more of a breakfast mood, so I opted instead to stop at the nearby IHOP.
As I looked over some of the decadent menu items – French Toast drizzled with cinnamon roll glaze, for example – I found my eyes gravitating towards one of their healthier, lower-calorie breakfast items, which is what I actually ended up ordering.
As I told Scott, “I don’t know who I am anymore.”
But at least I had a side of bacon, so I’m not a total stranger to myself.

Bad News, Good(?) News Department:
The Bad News:  While I was waiting for the doctor I read an article in a diabetes magazine that said that, thanks to having suffered from diabetes, the odds that I’ll develop some form of dementia when I get older are greatly increased.
The Good News:  Thanks also to the diabetes, my heart will probably give out long before that happens.

*Electric Boogaloo.

From Beyond The Grave….Distance Between Us

Text exchanges with the (former) boss:

T(F)B:  I found it.  It pops up differently.
Me:  K, good.
T(F)B:  Geez.  I am an idiot.
Me:  No comment.
T(F)B: Shut it.  This is your fault.
Me:  Of course it is.

*****
Me:  Also, enough with the encouragement to get mouthy with [my VP], Captain No Longer Here
T(F)B:  Whatever.  Man up, Maki!
Me:  I am manning up; I’m bending over and taking it like a man.
T(F)B: Debatable.
Me:  Whatever, quitter.

*****

Me:  I’m going to surrender – I’ll shove a crayon in my brain or something.
Me:  Make myself dumb.
T(F)B: Use a steel rod.  Make it all stop.
Me:  Why are you always so keen on having me kill myself?
T(F)B: It’s what I would do.
T(F)B: There should still be a rod in my office.  In one of the drawers.
Me:  Old Lady Sullivan’s Place?  No one goes near there.  They say it’s haunted.
Me:  By failure and the Spirit of Quitting.

****

T(F)B: It’s ok.  I figured it out.
T(F)B: Thx tho.  U Rick
T(F)B: Rick
T(F)B: Rock
T(F)B: Geez

Brain Games

On Sunday I was flipping through the channels and landed upon a movie already underway that, for some reason, prompted me to hit the “Info” button on the remote to pull up the detailed information about when it was made and who was in it.
After doing so, I saw the name of the lead actor and found that it seemed familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.  I watched a few minutes of the movie after that, but seeing the name that went with the face didn’t spark any additional recognition.
I wasn’t interested enough to give it much more thought, or to look the actor up on IMDb, and after watching those few minutes I turned the TV off and got back to engaging in the marathon session of doing nothing in particular that had been taking place all weekend.
When I say that I wasn’t interested enough to give it much more thought, I, apparently, mean conscious thought, given that sometime Thursday morning, as I paused between sets of leg extensions, I discovered that my brain had, in the background, been mulling over the problem.

Brain:  Watchmen.
Me:  What?
Brain:  That guy.  In that movie the other day.  Matthew Goode.
Me:  I don’t…what?
Brain:  That guy, Matthew Goode.  You recognized his name.  He played Ozymandias in Watchmen.
Me:  Oh, right.
Brain:  So now you know.
Me;  I guess so.
Brain:  Well?
Me:  Well what?
Brain:  Aren’t you, you know, going to praise me or whatever?  For figuring it out?
Me:  Umm…well, good job, I guess, but honestly, I didn’t really care that much to begin with.
Brain:  (Petulantly)  But I figured it out.
Me:  So you did.  Nicely done.
Brain:  Thank you.
(Pause)
Me:  Wait…what movie did I just see him in?
Brain:  …
Me:  Oh, well that’s just great.  Good fucking job, Einstein.  Now you’ll be churning away trying to figure that out, and then by the time you finally do remember the movie, I’ll have forgotten that the guy who played Ozymandias was in it and why I was thinking about it in the first place and we’ll start this whole fucking thing all over again, won’t we?

Forestalling the inevitable waste of background processing resources, I opted to look it up on IMDb.  It was the 2008 version of Brideshead Revisited.  The reason I had watched any of it at all was that I had tuned in during a scene in which actress Hayley Atwell – Agent Carter from Captain America:  The First Avenger – was wearing a dress that obviously wasn’t going to be worn for much longer.  That was enough to keep me around for a little while, even if it was on broadcast TV, which meant that I wouldn’t see much of her post-dress appearance.

****

When I told Scott about the above, I got “Cool story, bro” in response.

****

I was talking to Scott about the time I spent in the Upward Bound program as a high school student and recent high school graduate.  Specifically, I was talking about one of the awards banquets held at the end of one of the summer sessions in which one of the instructors in naming that year’s “top student” for the class actually stressed how well the honoree had performed by saying, “She even managed to beat Jon Maki.”

Scott:  Heh.  You were the bar.
Me:  Yeah.
Scott:  So what happened to you?
Me:  The bar.

****

Boss:  Yeah, you’re probably right.
Me:  Of course I am.  I told you:  Biggest brain is BEST brain.

Strategic Flab Reserves

Me:  Hey there, Flab.  How's it going?
Flab:  Hey, Jon!  No complaints here.
Me:  Good, good...you're not feeling, I don't know, uncomfortable?  Unwelcome?
Flab:  Nah.  I'm perfectly content, thanks.
Me:  So all that exercising I've been doing hasn't been disturbing you or making you uncomfortable.
Flab:  Oh, is that what that is?  Honestly, I've barely noticed.
Me:  Oh.
Flab:  I mean, sometimes, if I'm paying attention, I notice some sort of activity.  When I do, it's actually kind of fun.  Just bouncing around and jiggling like that.
Me:  Hm.
Flab:  Of course, now that you mention it, I have noticed that there's a little bit more of that...oh, what's the word?  The hard stuff that's not bone or flab.  Mucus?  Definitely an "M" word.
Me:  Muscle.
Flab:  Right, right.  Muscle.  There's a little bit - just the tiniest bit - more of that around, way, way, way down at the bottom of me.  I mean, it's buried deep under me, but it's there.
Me:  Hm.
Flab:  I have to admit that it made me a little nervous at first.  I've heard this muscle stuff, like, feeds on fat or something.
Me:  That's the theory, yeah.
Flab:  But your muscles?  They don't seem the least bit interested in me.  They're all "live and let live."  Frankly, I think they like having me wrapped around them.  I'm like a security blanket.
Me:  Hm.
Flab:  Other than that I noticed that when you're standing up straight I do end up getting stretched rather thin...if you'll forgive the expression!
Me:  Funny.
Flab:  Thanks.  Anyway, as soon as you sit down, gravity takes back over and I just spill out in every direction and it's just like old times.  After all, there's still plenty of me left in the strategic flab reserves around your midsection and your butt.  Enough to last a lifetime.
Flab:  Well, certainly enough to last for what's left of  your lifetime.  After all, that time bomb you call a heart is still ticking away in your chest, and I don't imagine we'll have to wait too terribly long before it goes off.
Me:  ...
Flab:  Anyway, I guess if I had any request for you it would be "Sit down more."
Me:  I'll see what I can do.
Flab:  You do that.  And you don't have to worry about sitting down on that hard muscle stuff - I'm in that area in full force to provide cushioning.

Randomness

Me:  I’m trying to do heavier weights this time.  So I was pretty worn out by the time I got to the last set on the close-grip bench press after doing 30 reps each of the incline bench press and dumbbell flies.
Scott:  Weight lifting nerd.

****

While standing in front of the hotel smoking a cigarette in Austin, I saw an expensive car – I don’t remember what kind – pull up, and out of the passenger side stepped a young, hot blonde in heels and a skintight, satiny little black dress.
She noticed me noticing her, and, I assume because she likes being noticed and not because of anything about me personally, she smiled.
Out of the driver side stepped a much older, short, schlubby, fat guy in a baggy Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts with a thick New York accent.
Ah, I thought.  I see.
I was curious as to whether she was local talent, or if she had actually been his travelling companion – travelling as his “niece,” I should think – and as they approached so that the man could smoke a cigarette, I caught snatches of their conversation which seemed to be centered around the foolish excess of some time of especially expensive car.
While they stood there, another “uncle and his niece” approached – though this one was slightly less mismatched, as neither the man nor the woman were as far towards the extreme ends of relative attractiveness as the first two – the schlubby guy said to the less-schlubby guy, “This girl is telling me that the guy who’s takin’ her to the Hamptons wants to pick her up in a McLaren.”
At that point, as I finished my cigarette, I thought, “I kind of want to be rich.”

****

In Austin, we stayed at a Westin, and while I was on a lower floor than my VP, and the Director accompanying us, I was on the “Executive Level.”
…
It was a very nice hotel.
In Syracuse, we stayed at a Hilton, and I have to say that, while nice, it was kind of a letdown after the Westin.  (“Really?  Only one queen-size bed in my room?”)
(See Also:  Rich, I kind of want to be)

****

One of the cool/nerdy features of my room at the Westin was this little media panel on the desk that featured HDMI inputs for the TV, power outlets, and a USB power outlet.

****

Much like the man’s “niece” noticed me noticing her, throughout the course of the trip at the various dinners and “nightcap” sessions we had, I couldn’t help noticing that my VP and the Director were noticing that I consistently abstained from drinking.
They didn’t say anything, but I could see the wheels spinning, and I can’t help but wonder what they were thinking.
I’m not ashamed of being a recovering alcoholic, and it’s not something I hide, but I don’t exactly announce it either, but I do, on occasions such as that, find myself curious as to what people make of my teetotaler ways.

****

(While having lunch)
Boss:  Jon…what is your IQ?
Me:  I have no idea.
Boss:  It has to be way up there.  Like, the 160s, at least.
Me:  (Shrug)  I’ve never seen any kind of records or anything, so I have no clue.

While it’s not an actual measure of IQ, I know that, in most subjects, in standardized aptitude tests I pretty consistently scored at levels several grades higher than whatever grade I was in at the time.  I remember scoring at a 12th grade level in several subjects on some test I took when I was in 7th grade.
What does any of that mean?  I don’t know.  Nothing, I suppose, all things considered, but it’s really the only gauge I have to go by.
The only other thing that really comes to mind about my IQ was that there was some person who worked for the state who came to our house to assess my developmental progress a few times before I started kindergarten, and he was less than impressed by my cognitive abilities.
So…yeah.  Like I said, I have no idea.
If I had to guess – and, really, it doesn’t matter enough, if it matters at all, that I’m required to guess – I would place it lower than the 160s  Probably 140s, at best.
When I was in college, I took a Psychology class that had a lab component (to fulfill the lab requirement), and in one of our lab sessions we had to take a mock IQ test.
I forget the details of the experiment, but the whole point of it had something to do with designing a test that’s more or less guaranteed to provide the results you’re hoping to achieve.  In this case, the hoped-for results were scores that followed the standard bell curve, thus there was a built-in bias in the test to ensure, to the greatest extent possible, that the scores would be distributed in such a fashion.
That did, in fact, end up being the case, with the one outlier being an IQ score that was far outside the expected range.
I don’t remember what my score was – and, again, the test’s methodology was flawed – but I was the outlier, and my score was much, much higher than anyone else’s.  I don’t remember what it was, however, and, once again, it wouldn’t have been a reliable indicator anyway.  I just remember being amused by the professor’s surprise that there was a score that fell so far outside of the predicted range.

****

The reason my IQ came up – it wasn’t just completely out of the blue – is that I was telling her about the time I had eye surgery when I was four (I was born with excess tissue on my eye that caused it to turn in towards my nose; the surgery was to remove that) and how I remembered being prepped for surgery and the snarky comments* the people in the room were making about the surgeon prior to his arrival.  They didn’t seem to realize that I understood their sarcasm.
That I remembered the events** – and understood the snarkiness – at such a young age, was what prompted the question.

****

I kind of want to write a semi-detailed review of The Dark Knight Rises, but I’d also like to take in another viewing of it before doing so.  I meant to over the past week, but never had the time.
I will say that, in short, I enjoyed it a great deal, and that it did manage to live up to expectations.
Better than The Dark Knight?  Well…certainly it was lacking the stellar performances of Heath Ledger and Aaron Eckhart, which can’t help but detract from the film slightly, but…I’m not sure.  Most people would probably say that no, it’s not, and personally I’m leaning in that direction, but I haven’t fully decided yet.
I will say this much:  I was very, very pleasantly surprised by Anne Hathaway.  I like her in general, but I wasn’t thrilled when she was cast as Selina Kyle/Catwoman, but, appropriately enough, given the nature of her character, she managed to steal the movie.  Excellent job, and one that actually makes up for the godawful Halle Berry movie, and the regrettable version portrayed by Michelle Pfeiffer in Button’s piece of crap.

****

If nothing else, the Nolan movies have managed to really shift the public’s image of Batman away from the 1960s’ TV show in a pretty dramatic fashion and to a much greater extent than anything that came before, which, in my mind, would make them worthwhile even if they weren’t also excellent films.
That being said, prior to TDKR there was a teaser trailer for next year’s Superman movie, The Man of Steel.  From what little of it we actually got to see, there are elements that look promising, but I’m not especially hopeful for a Superman movie (or movie franchise) that can have a similar effect on the public’s conception of the character.
It just annoys me – Superman has been around for 75 years, has been adapted into every other form of media imaginable, is one of the most recognized and well-known fictional characters in history, and yet, despite that, all anyone can seem to focus on are those two hours from 1978.

****

…and I actually meant to post this nearly a week ago, so I guess I’ll finally get around to it now.

*They kept referring to him as “Dr. Savior,” which was a play on his similar-sounding last name, and his apparent – in their view, at least – God Complex.  This did not exactly fill me with confidence, despite the fact that, prior to going in, as my mother is so fond of telling and re-telling me, I had said, “Don’t cry, momma; Jesus won’t let anything bad happen to me.”

**I also remember the experience of being put under; everything around me seemed to be moving in slow motion, and the voices of the people talking sounded like a 78 being played at 45 speed, then everything just went black.  The next thing I remember is waking up in my hospital bed and having to pee, and being offered a bedpan, which I refused, and then my dad helped me walk to the bathroom.

The Best Choice

This morning I found that sometime after I’d gone to bed I’d gotten two texts from the boss:

Boss:  Remember, you are the man tomorrow.  I put you on my out of office.  (Which is to say that in her Outlook “out of office” auto-response, she listed me as the point of contact for any urgent requests.)
Boss:  Thank you.

Setting aside the fact that I actually need to have known something in the first place in order to remember it, I opted to respond once the morning had progressed to a more reasonable hour:

Me:  No, thank you.  It’s an honor to be selected in recognition of my dedication and leadership abilities.
Me:  …and the fact that I’m THE ONLY ONE HERE.
Me:  My new dating site profile:  “Jon:  The best choice when you have no other options.”

In response, she admitted that she LOLed, but stated that I “know that isn’t the case.”  I don’t know anything of the sort, but chose not to argue the point.
Later, she requested that at some point during the day I ping our VP to see if he needs anything:

Boss:  He’ll say no, but it’s good exposure.
Me:  So is flashing people on the metro.
Me:  And it does about as much good.

****

The group I work in recently migrated our collective SharePoint sites, which were scattered all over the place due to previous organizational structures, from SharePoint 2007 to SharePoint 2010.
I am the admin for the overall site collection, and have been overseeing the migration and have been the one who decided on the organization of the collection.  After confirming that all of the data had been migrated successfully, and that it was all organized in the correct hierarchical structure, I sent out the official e-mail to the group that outlines where everything is, mapping the old URLs to the new URLs, and explaining what actions need to be taken.
As soon as I hit “send,” I said, aloud, “…3, 2, 1.”
No sooner had I finished counting when the wave of e-mails, IMs, and phone calls hit.
I have to admit that no matter what was being said or asked, in my mind, what I heard was a Cartman-style whine:  “But  Joooooonnnnn….”
(Also, Garth from Wayne’s World:  “We fear change.”)

****

The SharePoint change ended up dovetailing with my boss’s wish for me to get some exposure, as I ended up spending an hour in my VP’s office walking him through the new site and showing him some of the ways in which my team utilizes SharePoint.
While it went very well, and he very impressed with the work I’ve done, and the way that we use our site.
So impressed that he wants to hold our site up as an example for other teams, and, in fact, wants me, personally, to do a presentation about the site at one of our SVP’s all hands meetings, or, at a minimum, one of our SVP’s manager meetings, or both.
…
I have to admit that I might have preferred flashing people on the metro.

Musical Conversations

As many people would likely tell you, I don’t talk a lot.  In fact, I would say that’s what most people would say about me if pressed to come up with something, anything, to say about me.   That or some variation – “He’s really quiet” “He seems shy” “Does he have a pulse?” “Who?” – would be the go-to response.
Evidently it’s something of a defining characteristic*, or at least so I’ve gathered.
And it’s true.  Compared to most people, I don’t talk a lot.
There are, of course, many reasons for that, but that’s not what this is about.
While, in general, I don’t talk a lot to people, I do spend a fair amount of time talking to inanimate objects, abstract concepts, hypothetical people, and the singers of the songs I listen to at home or when I’m driving to work.
Here are some examples of that last one.

Garbage:  Come back to my house, stick a stone in your mouth…
Me:  …I…no thank you?

Alice In Chains:  What’s the difference?  I’ll die in this sick world of mine….
Me:  *Sigh*  You sure did, Layne.  You sure did.

Dido:  Take my hand, and if I’m lying to you…
Me:  “If,” Dido?

Liz Phair:  I bet you fall in bed too easily with the beautiful girls who are shyly brave…
Me:  Wow, you’ve really got my number, Liz.  That’s classic me.

Rob Zombie:  How can I make you understand?
Me:  Well, Rob, you might put a little more thought into your actual lyrics.

Dido:  See you when you’re forty, lost and all alone…
Me:  Go fuck yourself, Dido.

*It’s either that or a complete lack of any defining or noteworthy characteristics whatsoever.

It’s Not As Uncertain As Investing In The Stock Market

Me:  So I’ve started using “hair tonic,” and I’m noticing the development of my incipient “Reagan Neck” more and more every day.  I should find out if they still make Geritol.  Or at least start taking Centrum Silver.
Dan:  Do you really worry about it?
Me:  My Reagan Neck?  Well, I don’t worry about it, but I do find it distressing.
Dan:  Not your neck vagina, just getting older in general and planning for retirement.
Me:  I have a retirement plan:  I’ll have a heart attack and die alone.  More specifically, I’ll have a heart attack at the top of the stairs at home, fall down the stairs and break my neck, and lie in a crumpled heap at the bottom of them, paralyzed and slowly dying over the course of days, and it will take a week before anyone notices.
Dan:  At least you have a plan.
Me:   Oh, you have to these days.

Piece Of Cake

(At the comic shop)
Owner:  What would it take to get you to come in here on a Wednesday?
Me:  Uhh…?
Cute Girl:  Cake?  I bet cake will do it.
Owner:  Would you come in on a Wednesday if there were cake?
Me:  I…what?
Owner:  How about if there’s cake, it’s Superman’s birthday, it’s a Leap Year, and it will be our 15th year in business?  Will that get you to come in on a Wednesday?
Me:  (Looks at calendar on phone)  Sure, I guess that will be enough to get me to come in on a Wednesday.
Owner:  Good!  We just want to do something to thank you for your part in keeping us in business.

Inevitability

(The Scene: An imaginary conversation with a hypothetical person. The Time: One week ago. The Place: Let's say...Malaysia?)

Hypothetical Person: Hey Jon, do you suppose you could ever get tired of looking at a beautiful woman with huge boobs?
Jon: No. No, I do not.

Boring!

(The Scene:  An imaginary conversation with a hypothetical person.  The Time:  Shortly after finishing the above picture of Denise Milani.  The Place:  The Belgian Congo.)

Hypothetical Person:  How about now?
Jon:  Shut up.

I mean, okay, it's a good picture, the woman is beautiful, and, indeed, the boobs are huge, but I spent a lot more time looking at the source image than really should have been necessary, given that it's a pretty straightforward image with nothing terribly complex, and that led me, ultimately, to get...well, a little bored.
It was kind of distressing.  It reminded me of the first time I went to a strip club after I quit drinking and finding that while yes, it was nice to see attractive women taking their clothes off, without the booze it wasn't nearly so much fun as I'd remembered.
 Beyond the boredom, though, was the inevitability of it all.
As I posted on Facebook earlier today, they say that a definition of insanity is "Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."  Well, what do you call it when you do different things and get the same result over and over again?
It seems to me that the word for that is inevitability.
See, part of the reason the picture above took a sufficient amount of time to finish to result in me becoming bored was that my entire approach to drawing it was different from the way I normally draw.  Entirely new techniques that were supposed to lead to entirely new results.
And yet, while it is, by my own admission, a good picture, it's not new.  It looks just like any other picture I've done using my standard approach and technique.
It's inevitable.
And inevitability is kind of boring, even when it has huge boobs.

****

 Speaking of inevitability, despite my earlier post railing at the Universe for its unwillingness to allow me to hold onto my VA refund for more than a few hours, I did plan to, inevitably, buy the Samsung Series 7 Slate.
So it's hardly a big deal that I bought it today, given that there's plenty more money coming in over the next month or two, and I have no plans - despite whatever notions Stacy may have about a Russian mail-order bride - to purchase anything else that's terribly expensive.
It's just that it would have been nice to hold onto that money for a little while, and to fend off the forces of inevitability for more than a few hours...

****

Earlier today I texted Scott a link to info about the slate and a message telling him that I bought it, and explaining what a good deal (it really was a hell of a deal) I got on it.

Scott:  Stacy wants to know what your mail-order bride thinks of it.
Me:  Who cares what she thinks?  I mean, she's just a whore.
Me:  I mean...what mail-order bride?

****

Boss:  (To Co-Worker)  We need to drag Jon out on the links with us.  (By which she means playing golf, for those of you fortunate enough to not have to hear about fucking golf every fucking day.)
Me:  I would kill us all before I'd let that happen.

****

Boss:  (Talking about our SVP)  He wants you to talk more.  He told me, "He seems really intelligent."  I told him, "He's probably the smartest person on this floor."  So he said, "Well, why doesn't he ever say much?"   I said, "Do you think Einstein had long conversations with most people?"

Conversations

While working with my boss on developing a Project plan for a project that is likely to become my full-time job for most of 2012, I kept thinking of more and more variables and requirements that needed to be addressed:

Me:  (Thinks of yet another thing that needs to be done) Fuck.
Me:  You know what?  Fuck it.  I quit.
Boss:  What?
Me:  I quit.  I'm just going to take my chances out there in the world without a job.  Good luck with this.
Boss:  Sit your ass back down.

While on the phone with my mom:

Mom:  Do you have a tree up?
Me:  ...this is your son, Jon.
Mom:  Oh, right.

Odds And Ends

Reyse Like The Phoenix Department:

My friend Jamie has a blog – look for Thoughtful Dreamer over in the blogroll – and as part of it she’s posting snippets of stories involving a character of her creation, one Phoenix Reyse.  There is some artwork that will accompany the stories, featuring the character in outfits designed by Jamie which have been put over various images that serve as sort of digital paper dolls of the character.  Said digital paper dolls were created by someone you may know..
Check out the first such entry here.

Ray Of Sunshine Department:

Friend:  You just like to cheer people up…
Me:  Yeah, I’m a regular ray of sunshine.
Friend:  …even though you’re a grouch.

Sparing Some Change Department:

You may have noticed some changes here at Threshold, particularly if you use a browser that doesn’t block ads.
I’ve joined the Amazon Affiliates program, and as such, there are ads – generally context-aware, and right now mostly advertising things related to Jack Chick – and if you click through them and buy an advertised product from Amazon, I get some money.  I doubt that it will amount to much, or anything, really, but it couldn’t hurt (apart from the fact that it adds clutter to the blog and makes it load a little slower).
Additionally, I’ve added a widget showing Popular Posts, which links to Threshold’s Greatest Hits.
Frankly, when I look at what some of those are, I think, “Internet, I am disappoint.”
I mean, seriously?  You random Googlers are still obsessing about those things?
On a related note, the service I use for tracking site usage has upgraded a bit recently, and provides information on my Google page rank in relation to some of the specific search terms that lead people here.  In those instances in which I’m number one, I am not pleased.  In most cases I’m not even happy that I’m in the top ten.

Speaking Of Traffic Department:

Recently, Heroic Portraits has seen an increase in traffic thanks to a Portrait I did of my boss, which she very graciously posted on her Facebook page with a link to the site.  She’s got a lot of friends, and the image is a popular one.
Even so, I’m not posting it here.  If you want to see it, you can go to the Heroic Portraits Facebook page by clicking the link over on the right, or following the link from the site itself.  While you’re there, hit the “Like” button.  It won’t kill you.  I promise.

Conversations

(During our staff meeting; boss was joining from Florida via phone)
Boss:  Okay, that should be everything.  I want you all to try to get out early today.  Get your work done and try to be out of there before 3.  Probably not before noon, but definitely no later than 3.  Sound like a plan?
Me:  Sounds exactly like the plan I already had.

****

Bug:  Oh, hey Jon.  I’m just going to brazenly hang out here, in your house, right in front of you.  That’s not a problem, is it?  I mean, it’s not like you’re going to just kill me or something, right?
Me:  Wrong; it’s exactly like that.