Slow Slide Back into a Familiar World

I headed to the West Village post office after a Thai lunch special with Ian Edginton.

On the wall was an ad for DC Comics super hero stamps.

"Do you have a sheet of those?" I asked the attendant when I got to the front of the line.

She pulled out a small stack.

"Yes. How many do you want?"

"How many do you have?" I'm such a geek. These were the coolest stamps I'd seen since I bought the "X-Men" stamps in Mongolia.

"Six."

"I'll take them all."

Stunned by Stats

JG from Comicraft/Active Images just showed me how to check the MariesWorldTour.com stats.

I'm stunned. I'm getting 3,000-4,000 visitors a month. 3.11 GB were transferred during July. This on a site I haven't updated in four years. And people are finding it with the usual kooky search terms. "Injera flatulence." "muslims are pleased when they see dolphins." "how to find a gynecologist in berlin."

I guess I better update my site!

Everyone Loves A Bargain

I stumbled over this gem this morning, while biking in the industrial area behind Liberty State Park. It's near where my storage unit used to be before I bought my garage.

Bring your own bottles, and fill up for 35 cents a gallon at the Snowbird water distribution center. What a deal! Poland Spring just lost me as a customer.


35 cents a gallon, bring your own bottles

A Dubious Compliment

I leaned forward against the post office counter the other day, as I shipped comp copies of "The 99" to an artist in the UK.

"You have a beautiful body," whispered a middle-aged man behind me.

I froze, pretended not to hear, paid, and walked away stiffly. I was aware that I was being watched.

Then I thought, "Who cares? No one has catcalled me in months. Years? Don't get all uptight about it. Laugh and be glad he didn't say Your is butt is big and your roots are showing."

I used to get catcalls a lot more on the Lower East Side. It wasn't all gentrified then, and the most common was the spitting tea-kettle catcall.

"Ssssst, ssssst!"

Whatever that means.

The one that completely confused me though was the "compliment" I got about six or seven years ago, on Orchard Street.

A man was passing me, walking south to north as I walked north to south. He glanced at me and said clearly, as he walked by:

"You still got it, baby."

Toilet Humor

The second comic strip that Kevin Kobasic and I worked on for Comiculture was not lettered or colored before the series quit publishing. It was about the wonders of public toilets in China, which were known for their squalor and, uh, lack of aesthetics.

Now I can't remember what I'd written for captions.

I think I suggested that one always carry hand disinfectant, double-knot shoelaces so that they didn't fall into puddles of pee, gauge each prospective loo on the stink-o-meter, use the buddy system where one stays outside in case they need to rush in and rescue the other, watch out for curiosity seekers as there are frequently no doors, and finally, find a McDonald's instead. Most of these rules were established by Yancey and Turbo, during our Intrepid China trip.

China has recently upgraded their public toilets in advance of the Beijing Olympics, with a little help from the WTO. And no, it doesn't stand for World Trade Organization.

Embarrassing to Admit

I can't figure out how to work the backyard weed-whacker. I turn it on and run it over the grass and all it does is flatten it.

Any experts?

Hey Kids, Let's Read Comics!

Back when Steve was publishing Comiculture, he invited me to contribute.

The first story I gave him was just a newspaper-sized strip. (Click to get the full-sized version.) Yes, this really happened, except I made up the scurvy line because I couldn't remember what ridiculous, obscure vaccine the official had asked about.

Kevin Kobasic drew this strip, as he has drawn many things I've written. He's quite talented, but for some reason few people seemed to notice. I wonder if he likes to draw pinups of Kuwaiti superheroes.

What's A Best Man To Do?

"Do I have chocolate on my face?"

Jessica scrutinized me quickly.

"No. But what's that gray guck on your forearm?"

"Oh, that." I waved dismissively. "Silicone-based adhesive. Installed window bars yesterday. Doesn't come off except by picking at it." I absently tugged at some of the adhesive where it had bonded to my arm hair.

"And that?" She had an amused edge to her voice as she pointed to the greasy stain on my trousers.

"I got it from my bicycle last week. Not sure. Dust? Grease?" I changed the subject. Surely walking around bedecked in chocolate, adhesive, and week-old greasy dust was perfectly normal.

This conversation came hot on the heels of me having to admit to general cluelessness regarding nylons, pantyhose, and tights. I'm Yancey's Best Man in his wedding next month, and I'd had to email the bride's mother to ask if I was supposed to wear nylons under the fancy silk dress she'd sent.

In many ways, I'm a lousy excuse for a female of the species. "Shopping" is something best done at Home Depot or a camping store. Shoes are things that you put on your feet, purely for protection and comfort. Stores that sell only accessories have no reason to exist. And I am hopelessly unskilled at romance, better suited to enhancing the vanishing abilities of men than to enticing them into… whatever I am supposed to entice them into, something others seem to know by instinct while I admit to being hopelessly baffled.

So it comes as no surprise that I am—once again—selected to be Best Man. I'm stressed about it—last time I did this, I completely chickened out on the speech, and the groom's brother had to step in. I'm every bit as clueless about the business of "Best Man-ing" as I am about translating Hungarian or online dating. Where do I start? I can't even throw a Bachelor Party as the uncooperative bachelor in question has chosen to remain on the west coast until the day of the rehearsal dinner. What do I say in the speech? And even worse, what kind of gift am I supposed to buy? As Best Man, am I obligated to fork over something stupendous, or something in keeping with my (invisible) budget? Do you think Yancey wants a Dik-Dik On A Stik?

JC Warren Street: Now and Then

Same corner, Warren Street, JC, old and new. Personally, I like the old.


Harbor Casino New condos on Warren Street, 2006



Harbor Casino a.k.a. “Boat Bar” - 2002 © Denis Luzuriaga

Squirrel of the Month Club

My mother frequently posts squirrel photos on her blog.

Well, now I am joining her. This squirrel seems to be fond of dried mulberries. I spotted him in the mulberry-catching net over my backyard.

The mulberries have stopped falling now, and I will have no more mulberry pancakes this year. It's time to take the net down, but I've been busy with other projects: Installing window bars on the basement windows, riding my bike around the route of the Morris Canal, and going to see summer blockbuster movie matinees at the mall. At the mall, I get to watch an unlikely Lois Lane have selective memory recovery, or Johnny Depp play Keith Richards playing a pirate. Plus it's nice and cool at the movie matinees, much nicer than sweating over the laptop in my apartment, and certainly nicer than chasing squirrels out of the mulberry net.