There’s a Fetish for That

fe-tish also fe-tich...

            1 : an object (as an idol or image) believed to have magical powers (as in curing disease)

            2 : an object of unreasoning devotion or concern

            3 : an object whose real or fantasied presence is psychologically necessary for sexual gratification

                        from The Merriam-Webster Dictionary

Since you’re reading this online (I’m taking for granted that nobody prints up copies of these posts for distribution), I’m going to assume that we’re all familiar with the following concept: if it exists, there’s porn of it.  I’m uncomfortable with this idea, not just because of the horrible, horrible implications, but because it implies that there is a market for all of this everything-in-existence pornography, which in and of itself implies (by my calculations, which are based on absolutely nothing but boredom and anti-math) that someone you know and come into contact with regularly must be the target audience for at least one awful type of porn.  And, seriously?  Think about that phrase.  If it exists, it’s porn.  Everything in existence.  That means that, somewhere, there’s stapler porn, or souvenir magnets porn, or chalk-drawing porn, or half-washed-away-by-the-rain chalk drawings porn.  Seriously?  EVERYTHING?!  EVERYTHING IN EXISTENCE?!!

So, in trying to wrap my head around this idea, I’ve become obsessed with the idea of fetishes, and what could be made into one.  Theoretically, everything should be able to be a fetish, since we clearly need fuel for our filthy everything porn.  My everyday experiences lead me to new and confusing possible fetishes all the time.  I eat an orange as a snack; is that a fetish?  Are there any orange fetishists out there?  I walked through a puddle this afternoon.  Is there such a thing as a puddle fetish?

The more I think about it, the more specific I get.

Really?  Ok, how about ‘deer crossing train tracks at dusk’?  Is that a fetish?  Air-dried sheets on the line caught in the rain.  Fetish?  Samuel L. Jackson-Thylacine sitcom pilot?  A cerulean-blue windbreaker hanging on a coat rack in a room that is exactly 62 degrees (F)?  Space Werewolves?  Are these fetishes?  CAN YOU FIND PORNOGRAPHY OF THESE THINGS??!  DOES THAT EXIST?!

I’m driving myself crazy here.  Literally.  (Is that a fetish?)  In my abnormal psych class, this was made very clear to me.  Now, I may be slightly too much of a hypochondriac to take a course like this, since basically every disorder we cover ends with me saying “I definitely, DEFINITELY have that”, but my professor basically made it clear last class that I definitely definitely DO have that; “that” being, of course, psychosis.

Yes, that’s right.  I misinterpreted ink blots.  I didn’t even know you COULD misinterpret ink blots.  But I did.  (Is that a fetish?)

Sitting in my philosophy course, an even more mind-blowing idea occurred to me: if we accept that, for the concept of infinity to exist, all things that can exist must exist, (is that a fetish?) does that mean that there is infinity porn, in which all things that can be, must be?  How would you even film that? (Is filming infinity porn a fetish in and of itself?)  Can there possibly be a target audience for such a thing?

Or how about this: if there is porn of all things, and not all things are sexual, is there porn in existence in which nothing sexual is taking place?  Is that a fetish?

Are there almost- fetishes?  As in, you get turned on by something that’s almost something else, but not quite?  Like, you get super-hot for tangelos, but have no real feelings either way for tangerines or grapefruit?  It’s just that it’s almost a tangerine, or almost a grapefruit that gets you excited?  Almost-midget porn, where the actors are extremely short, but are not quite eligible for “little people” status?  Almost elderly porn, where the performers are just under the age requirement for getting the senior discount at Country Kitchen Buffet?  And it’s not that the viewer is into that particular height or age or whatever, it’s the fact that they’re almost something else.  Is there “almost-something-else” porn in the world?  Is that a thing?  Is there something like an “almost-bestiality” fetish?

oh, right.

I’m sorry, I just can’t accept this.  My brain won’t allow it.  I DENY YOU, RULE 34!  There can’t possibly be porn of everything in existence.  It just can’t be.  Which is why I’ve decided to fill that gap in the industry. 

Are you a lonely, sad person whose bizarre fantasies are not being catered to?  Why, then, send a description of your twisted desires to me, and I will supply desperate, starving actors to act out your perverted dreams, you sick, warped individual, you.  Why, for the right price, you REALLY WILL be able to find any kind of porn your heart desires!  Even Space Werewolves, you ask?

Even Space Werewolves.

How to Train Your Giant Lizard-Beast

Sarah and I had a conversation the other day around 3 am that went something like this:

We had actually been sitting up, watching the episodes from the last season of Avatar, the Last Airbender, when I somehow came up with the idea that giant lizard-beast = respect.  I repeated this idea to Sarah several times, each time slightly more incoherently, before passing out, giggling sleepily to myself.  When I woke up the next morning, though, I was still convinced that this was, indeed, the case; if you want the respect of your peers, you must acquire a giant lizard-beast ASAP.  However, gaining a lizard-beast in and of itself is not enough.  And so, I have helpfully put together instructions to guide your through the training and operation of your giant lizard-beast.

1. You cannot gain the respect of your peers without first earning the Lizard’s respect.

Having the Lizard is not enough!  You must first prove to him that you are a worthy master.  If your Lizard senses that you are weak, he will not listen to your commands.  His derision will bring shame upon your family.  He may eat you.  This is not what you want.  In order to gain his respect, you will have to impress him with your skills as a warrior.  A good way to do this is by challenging a rival to a fight to the death, and defeating them.  It is very important that your opponent is an equal; otherwise your Lizard will be disgusted by your cowardice and lack of faith in your abilities.  After you have defeated your foe, you’ll probably have gained your Lizard’s respect, but you may want to devour the carcass of your fallen enemy, just to remind your Lizard that you are not only capable of destroying an adversary, but are wise enough to then add their strength to your own. 

You will definitely have earned his respect, then.

2. Use your lizard-beast only for appropriate occasions.

Sure, once you’ve gained his respect and he starts allowing you to actually ride him places, you’ll want to take your Lizard everywhere, right?  Well, don’t.  Not every event is suitable for the usage of a lizard-beast.  For example, occasions where he’ll get in the way of others; crowded places such as amusement parks, inside public buildings, backstage at local theater productions.  Keep in mind: a giant lizard-beast is a very showy form of transportation.  Before using him, ask yourself; is this event about me?  Will I be stealing someone else’s moment by arriving astride a giant lizard-beast? 

"You should have chosen me, Helen!"

Meditating on these questions should help you understand the best times and occasions to use your Lizard.

3. Be considerate of your Lizard’s needs.

Your lizard-beast is not a slave to your every whim.  If he chooses to carry you where you wish to go, it is only because of his respect and, in time, affection for you.  If you do not bother to nurture a loving relationship with your Lizard, you will find in time that he will stop responding to your commands, and will eventually move on to a new home.  For the purposes of this guide, I’ll assume that you want your Lizard to stick around, and the only way for that to happen is if you make it clear how much you care for him.  There are many good ways to show affection for your giant lizard-beast.  For example, make a point of making his favorite dinner every so often, and make sure that he always has fresh, clean blankets on his bed.  Remember, lizards are cold blooded, and need an outside heat source in order to stay warm, so it is necessary to make certain that their beds are warm and cuddly, and it wouldn’t hurt to snuggle with your Lizard now and then; little things like this will make your giant lizard-beast feel safe and loved, which in turn will strengthen your bond.

4. Impress the World with Your Awesomeness!

If you’ve made it this far; congratulations!  You have successfully earned your giant lizard-beast’s respect, learned the appropriate ways to utilize his transporting abilities, and cultivated a beautiful and fulfilling relationship with him, the likes of which you will never find with another human being.  Now it is finally time to shove it in everyone’s faces.  They didn’t believe in you.  They never thought that you could train a giant lizard-beast to do your bidding!  Well, look who’s laughing, now!  Feel free to laugh maniacally as your acquaintances look on in envy and confusion when you come hurdling down the street astride your Lizard.  Imagine the sweet taste of victory as you watch your clearly-inferior neighbors suffer from brainsplosions and spontaneous human combustion as their tiny minds struggle to comprehend your fantastic-ness.  Imagine how attractive to the opposite sex you will now appear!  Imagine the RESPECT!

IMAGINE THE POWER!

Just Another Skeleton in my Anxiety Closet…

I am, by nature, a pretty sensitive person.  I try not to let myself get upset over trivial things, and I understand that not everyone I meet will like me.  Nevertheless, I do, on some level, always try to make people like me, and am hurt when I feel that I have failed.

            Even worse than this, however, is when I feel that I am annoying or pushing away someone who is a friend.  Being someone who has a deep -one might say obsessive- love of comic books (particularly of the super-hero variety), I often find myself discussing intensely a storyline or character or some other feature of my favorite titles with my friends, who are not comic book readers.  Most of the time, they seem politely interested, and I trust them to let me know if I am beginning to ramble or if I start to bore them.  I understand that not everyone is into what I’m into, and I have no problem with someone cutting in and saying “This is really cool and all, but I’m really just not that into this stuff.  Mind if we talk about something else?” 

After all, what possible reason could they have to not be honest with me?

Sure, I’d be a little embarrassed, but I would totally understand and not hold it against that person at all.  And my friends tend to be actually interested in what I’m talking about (or else really good at faking it).  Most of the time, I can rest easy, knowing that my friends are not bored and annoyed with my comic-talk.  Recently, that all changed.

You should all remember Bernacki. 

This image burns itself into the backs of one's eyelids.

            Well, the other day Bernacki and I were in my room, talking.  She noticed my various pieces of comic book art that I had decorated the wall space directly above my desk and on my cork board with, and I, acting on what I assumed was interest on her part, began telling her the background stories of the various characters.  As usual, I trusted that my friend would let me know, kindly, if I was going too far.  What a fool I was.  After all, this was Bernacki.  She’s a scientist, damn it!  She doesn’t have time for my nonsense!  This is pretty much how our conversation went:

Me:…so then, hee hee, then Batman just belts him, and knocks him out.  Hahaha!  One punch!  Bwa-ha-ha!  Oh, man, Guy’s just my favorite character right now…

Bernacki: Yeah, have you ever noticed how rough the wall is over here?

Me: Heh, heh… Uh, um… really?  Umm, no I never noticed…

Bernacki: Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt…

Me: Oh, that’s fine… So, anyway, J’onn and Black Canary walk in…

Bernacki: Yup, pretty rough.  It’s a rough wall.  You’ve never noticed?

Me:…

Bernacki: Yeah, so I better get back to my paper…

And then she left.  She left me, suddenly alone with my awkwardness and insecurities.  I began to wonder, was Bernacki the only one of my friends who didn’t want to hear my stories, or was she simply the only one bold enough to make it so painfully clear?

Sure, the wall is rough.  Rough like finding out that your friendship is a lie.

I agonized over this question for the rest of the day.  That night, my sleep was not restful.  I dreamt I was going through a box of action figures, trying to explain the characters to someone who kept trying to walk away.  I’d keep pulling him back to me, insisting that the characters’ biographies were interesting, but we both knew that he just didn’t care.  I woke up, and was truly aware for the first time in my life that, no matter how much you love something and think it is wonderful and exciting, there will always be people who just don’t care and never will.  What is really important, I now realize, is that I have friends who love me and want to be around me even though our interests don’t match up perfectly, and that makes them all precious to me.  Except Bernacki.

Seriously, our friendship is over.

Of course, this doesn’t mean that I have any intention of stopping my practice of sharing comic book stories with my friends.  After all, I believe it was that loveable death-machine Doomsday’s motto that “Anything that doesn’t cause great pain and suffering is simply not worth doing!”  So, my dear friends can all rest assured that I intend to be expressing my fondness for them through the tellings and retellings and re-retellings of my favorite stories for some time to come now.  Because I love them all like Batman loves Robin; with detached but dutiful parental affection, and clear homoerotic undertones.

I'm Batman in this analogy, and my friends are Very Uncomfortable.

Life with Samuel L. “Thylacine” Jackson: a pilot for the hit new sitcom

Tip: If you don’t know what a thylacine is, look it up before reading this.  Or don’t, and just go with the flow of things.

RRrrawr!

Setting: Australian outback.  An orchestra sits atop a rather large and out-of-place hill, with the audience in folding chairs in front of the musicians, sloping down the hillside.  Everything else is flat and non-descript.

Wide shot of the scene; the orchestra plays, softly at first, and slowly becomes louder until about a minute in.  Music swells majestically as a pack of thylacines race by the hill.

Medium shot of girl in the audience (AMANDA), whose attention has been caught by the pack.  She leaps out of her seat, practically flies down the hill, and catches one of the smaller, weaker thylacines by the throat.  The music continues in the background, but it has become softer and more menacing.

MOTHER THYLACINE: grabbing AMANDA viciously by the throat with her powerful jaws Let Freddy go!  Let ‘im go!!!

AMANDA: throttling baby thylacine Unhinge your jaw, beast!  Show me your terrors!

MOTHER THYLACINE: Let ‘im go!!!

Close up of 2^nd girl in the audience (SARAH) whose attention is being split between the magnificent performance, and the absurdly violent act taking place at the base of the hill.  The shot expands to reveal that the occupant of the seat to her immediate left is an Australian funnel-web spider.  Her surprise is replaced by surprise and horror when the spider suddenly jumps from its seat and lands on her face, repeatedly biting her in the eye.

SARAH:  scratching at the spider over her eye Um, sir..?  Please stop.  Sir?  That’s my eye you’re biting.  Excuse me.  Stop that, please.

MOTHER THYLACINE: off screen Let Freddy go!!!

Focus turns to orchestra, where it now becomes apparent that there is only one human playing an instrument (ALEX).  The rest of the orchestra is composed entirely of thylacines and funnel-web spiders.

FUNNEL-WEB SPIDER: still biting SARAH’s eye That’s my grandfather playing bassoon up there.  Yeah, he’s pretty good for his age.

ALEX: For his age?  Not for his species, but for his age?  That’s what impresses you?

SARAH: Please stop biting my eye!

AMANDA:  Unhinge your jaw!  It doesn’t have to be this way!

MOTHER THYLACINE: Let Freddy go!  Let ‘im go!!!

The scene has descended into chaos.  The music is fast and threatening.  The characters are speaking their lines over one another; no one individual can be understood.  Suddenly, there is Samuel L. Jackson; all music and lines halt abruptly.  There is no explanation of where he came from or how he approached this desolate place unnoticed.  He is simply there.  He has a mission; a mission to end this chaos the only way he knows how.

He runs, and as he runs, the land behind him explodes in a fiery torrent of explosion.  Each step he takes in punctuated by a ‘cha-BOOM’, and his feet leave the earth, given a boost by the blast behind him.  A single thylacine keeps pace with him, determined to strike him down: Samuel L. Jackson and thylacines are eternal nemeses.  As they run, all other creatures, including the other thylacines, spiders, and three human characters, are lost to the blazing madness that follows SLJ.

They reach the edge of Australia.  The final blast that consumes the continent gives SLJ and the Last Living Thylacine a mighty push.  They seem to fly.  They fly for about twenty-four hours.  Then they land in the US.

Samuel L. Jackson’s mission is nearly complete: he has destroyed all of Australia, but he has not yet destroyed the last thylacine.  As their feet touch the ground, they quickly assume battle poses; each one knowing that only one may leave this clash alive.

To be continued…

Samuel L. Jackson appears courtesy of Samuel L. Jackson.

No thylacines were harmed in the making of this post, except for Freddy.

Special thanks to Samuel L. Jackson.

I Fail at Being an Adult

Sorry for the no-post last week.  I was sick in bed.  I had a sore throat and maybe an ear infection, so I just slept forever and had crazy halluci-dreams.

When I woke up on Tuesday, I was pretty close to all better, so I’ve just been puttering around, doing the stuff that I normally do, and it occurred to me today that I have already failed at adulthood.

Well, I guess technically, to fail I would have had to die, so I haven’t actually failed, but I’ve probably got a pretty low score in this section of my life.  Let me walk you through my day, so that you can see what I mean.

8 am

Woke up.  Blew nose, used bathroom.  Ate some leftover candy from Christmas.  Went back to bed.

11:30 am

Woke up again.  Thought about firing up the laptop and working on a short story.  Went bra shopping instead.

2:30 pm

Came home and immediately put on new bras.  Modeled them in the mirror for a while.

2:45 pm

Again, considered working on a story.  Decided to reorganize my bedroom instead.  Ended up playing with my new Green Lantern action figures, and pretended that they were singing along to the Andrew Lloyd Webber CD I was playing.

"I want to be rainBOW HIGH!!!"

4 pm

Remembered that I had a blog post due today.  Considered putting it off until next week, but then remembered that I didn’t do one last week.  Put it off anyway.  Got back to organizing things, then stopped and tried to put together a beach background for my GL’s, so I could make a vacation photo album of them to put on Facebook, because I’m a fun and silly person who does that sort of thing.  Realized that it would take more than a few minutes to do; lost interest and tried to get back to cleaning.

If I didn't do this sort of thing, I probably wouldn't have to clean so much.

4:30 pm

Remembered that I’m supposed to be a writer.  Considered writing, but didn’t feel like clearing stuff away from my laptop.  Moved some furniture around in my room.  Moved it back.  Moved it again.  Got my mail, skimmed it.  Then read it again while talking to my mom.  Then actually stopped and read it for real. 

I accidentally drew myself sideways; decided to just go with it and make it space.

6 pm

Had leftover soup for dinner, played around online.  Read funny articles and looked over the news.

I like this 'doing mundane things while in space' theme.

8 pm

Wrote this post.  Gave myself pep talk to make pictures to go with it.  Got sidetracked on YouTube.  Got back to work.  Got sidetracked on Facebook.  Got back to- had idea for story, had to write it down- work.  Finished.

So there you have it: I wasted an entire day doing not-terribly-important things.  I know, it’s not that the world will end if I use my winter break to, you know, take a break and all, but I felt kind of guilty today when I was in the middle of shopping for bras and I realized that I haven’t done almost any decent writing for the past couple of weeks.  I’m promising myself to do better from now on, and get some good stuff down.  So, I guess I tricked you, and this is actually one of those annoying things about New Year’s resolutions?  Sorry.  Hope you are all taking advantage of the New Year to make a fresh start and improve yourselves.  I know that I will.  After all, this year I’ve resolved to follow through on my resolutions.




 

But, seriously, everyone needs to take a break now and then.

Merry Christmas!

Christmas is my favorite time of year!  Everything about it!  I love decorating the tree, picking out and wrapping gifts for everyone, eating delicious cookies and other assorted treats.  I love hanging out with my family (sometimes) and watching specials while drinking cocoa.  I love it all.  But most of all, I love getting gifts.  Now, we all know that it is better to give than to receive, which is why I’ve decided to give you all a copy of the things that I want you to give to me.  I guess that I’m just really into the holiday spirit.  Anyways, here’s a copy of my Christmas list:

Green Lantern Ring

I’m talking fully functional here.  As in, whatever I have the willpower to sustain, I can create.  It would be the perfect tool in life.  Also, it would match my eyes.

This would be great, for a while.

Fine Jewelry

In addition to my incredibly useful and eye-matching GL ring, I could use some glittery gems.  You know; earrings, necklaces, bracelets, anklets, tiaras, etc.  I also have, like, seven other fingers and two thumbs for more rings.  I like emeralds, rubies, and genuine cubic zirconia.

Don't you think I'm pretty?  Tell me I look pretty.

Diamond Shoes

Yes, diamond shoes.  Blood diamonds.  Hey, it’s going to be no picnic walking in those things, so it’s only fair if someone on the other side of the equation suffers, too. 

Sparkly wonderfulness.

Jesus-look-alike Bodyguard

With all that bling, I’m gonna need some protection.  And nobody is going to try to fight Jesus, especially around his birthday.  I mean, come on.  That’s just terrible behavior.  Also, it would be super-cool to be seen walking around everywhere with Jesus.

Everyone would be so jealous.

Also, if he could actually have awesome, Jesus-like powers, that would be great.

A Church

I want to be worshipped.

That's not me.  That's a priestess, dedicated to emulating me in all ways, as do all who worship in my House.

My Own Island

Nothing too fancy, just my own personal island outside of any other country’s jurisdiction.

I was thinking something slightly larger.  Also, with serfs.

Gift Cards

I like Pizza Hut, Target, Old Navy, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc.

Ryan Reynolds

Of course.  Of course.  There is nothing I’d like better than to wake up Christmas morning and find him wrapped up under the tree.  Nothing.



Best Christmas Ever



I meant to wrap this post up with a heartwarming message about the holidays, but I’ve kind of lost my train of thought on that one.  Oh, well.  You’ve seen the specials.  You know what I’m getting at.  Have a happy holiday, however you may spend it.





Dear Ryan Reynolds: A Proposal

Ryan Reynolds and Scarlett Johansson are divorcing.  I was shocked and upset to hear about this, because people that beautiful belong together.  They would have made the Earth’s most perfect babies. 

Their beautiful messiah baby

However, neither of them asked for my opinion.  Anyway, out of respect for their privacy, I will not bother speculating on the reasons behind the divorce, or anything along those lines.  No, this is not a gossip-y, tabloid-y post.  This is a heartfelt, tender message to the man I love.

            Marry me, Ryan Reynolds.

            You know how long I have loved you.  Of course, I never would have wished for this sad ending to your marriage, nor would I have made advances while you were still with Scarlett, but I feel that now is the time to make my intentions clear.  Soon, perhaps already, you will be deluged with gorgeous women who have been waiting for this opportunity to pounce on you.  You may wonder if they truly love you for you, or if all they see is your money and fame, and sweet Jesus abs.  Well, I can tell you, Ryan, I am not like those women.  I will appreciate you for who you are, regardless of your socio-economic class or unusually beautiful face.  Remember The Amityville Horror, where you were all creepy and murderlicious?  I would totally have still hooked up with you.  Or Just Friends, at the beginning, when you were playing the fat and nerdy kid?  Yes, Ryan.  Even then.  Even then, I loved you.  I’m not here for your looks.  I don’t care about money.  I’m pretty sure fame would annoy me after the first half-hour.  I’m not here for me; I’m here because of my great and abiding love for you.

Pictured:  Me loving you even if you really did get fat.

            I know that I’m no glamorous Hollywood starlet, but maybe that’s what you need; someone who will stay by your side, supporting you throughout your career, not worried about their own publicity.  There would be no need to worry about if I’m only pushing my own agenda by being with you, because I don’t work in that business.  There would be no balancing act between our careers, because we work in two completely separate fields.  Conflicting schedules and the strain of distance would never be an issue for us, because I’m a writer: have laptop, will travel.  Or a notebook.  Or, hell, for you?  The back of an envelope.  Whatever’s handy, so long as we’re together.  I can be flexible.  I’m willing to put in the effort to make this work.

Effort!

            And, honestly?  I’ve done a little acting in my past.  Not really interested anymore in making a career out of it, but if you ever needed help with ‘getting’ a character, or running lines, or whatever, I’m there for you, baby.  And if you prefer doing that kind of thing on your own?  That’s cool, too.  I have my own interests, as well.  I’m a well-rounded person.  I’ve got my writing, and I also enjoy reading (books and comics), baking, sketching, and dancing like a crazy person.  I have friends.  I’m not a crazy, obsessed stalker; I just love you, and I think that you could love me, too.  I could be good for you.

Our messiah-cyborg baby.  See how much better it could be with me?

            Understand me, Ryan.  I’m not looking for a ticket onto the red carpet, though I’d be marching up and down that thing singing your praises to all if I were there.  I would tell everyone how wonderful you were.  I would do this at premieres for movies that you’re not even in.  Because I love you that much. 

...and the masses shall be taught to worship you

I know, I know; this seems a little forward.  It’s too soon.  I understand.  In fact, I’m still working towards my BA.  We’re both busy people, and this doesn’t need to happen overnight.  You take some time; mourn your relationship, enjoy some alone time, work on new projects.  I’ll finish up school, try to get something published.  What’s important is that you know I’m here, waiting for you.  But not indefinitely.  Remember, I’m a pretty hot commodity, myself, so don’t wait too long.  This offer expires eventually.

Let's be honest: who doesn't want a piece of this?

So, again; take some time to yourself, Ryan.  Figure out what you want.  And when you decide that what you want is someone who will love and support you like I will, you’ll know where to find me.

Right here.