blah bluh blah

i just realized… isnt the SAT having a grammar/reading section kind of unfair to people who speak english as a second language?? thats kinda fucked up. you cant measure intelligence or intellect based upon that! sounds like an unfair disadvantage

To Whomever Has Been Using Our WiFi,

Nice to finally meet you! We share an IP address! I know we do because I came home to a cease and desist letter courtesy of my internet provider. Now I have been out of sorts as of late and a bit of a slow reader when it comes to official looking documents–and I’ve been known to hack a few datafiles in my day–so I really thought I put myself in the hot internet water for a second. “What did I do?” I panicked, trigger finger hovering dangerously above my Dapper Dans With Busy Hands folder.

Let’s cut to the chase here like it’s the grand opening of a mall. You’re the guest of honor, pal, giant scissors are in your court. Better clamp down like it’s a second grade art class, glitter bedazzling all your belongings like water off a choice rump. Someone in this building just couldn’t wait to see Fast Five. Let me amend that. Someone wanted to see Fast Five so hard they strolled right into the html farm and made off with a Cam Rip. Not a blu-ray rip or a DVD rip. Someone waltzed in, ignored the diamonds and fancy cheeses and went straight for the Youtube quality rip of a movie starring Vin Diesel.

Now I don’t want an apology for using my internet or having the unfortunate coincidence of an IP address. My internet is great. It’s top tier. My internet can take on all comers in terms of speed. We are a great team, and while I was once willing to share it with the world, you’re going to have to hack one of my stellar passwords to get at it from here on out. Unless you can hoverboard on the information highway like me, that’s going to be a challenge. I don’t ask that you try.

But I want to know you, mysterious stranger. I want to know the inner workings of your mind. I want to walk inside, lounging within the sticky crevices of its folds. Who are you? Was it worth it? Do you dream of being a racer living on the edge? Do you love Vin Diesel but can’t handle his unearthly beauty in high quality?

I need to know.


okay like you gotta respect trans ppl and trans ppl who ID as gay as well but like

you also gotta respect lesbian women who arent up 2 be in a relationship w/ someone who has a peen.

like u cant be mad at a lesbian for liking the v and only the v i mean thats the traditional definition

& to get mad at us or to say that we are bad people for not being up to do the sideways tango with a pre op trans woman isnt fair to us man. you cant police sexuality to fit gender politics.

honestly a lot of those posts yelling at lesbians for not wanting PIV sex with a trans person feel super lesbophobic and kinda dipping into a lot of this fucked up social expectation for lesbians to… not be lesbians i guess? to make exceptions to their set sexuality. idk

Oh, hey, guys, it’s me, your good friend, Time Drake, here to hack your data files and put the cookies behind the firewall and also poop on all the fun. Did you think being Robin was fun? HAHA, NO, it’s COMPLICATED, much like my algorithm for ranking every hero I may find suspicious based on eyebrow height (Note to self: Plastic-Man, extremely suspect. Look into “Stephen Colbert”.) Come back to me when you’re a champ and you’ve literally earned your own pair of wings.

Or just me trying on some things that weren’t ready in time for NYCC and being sweaty.

a message to my fellow radicals

stop “misgendering” transwomen. stop calling them “men” and “he”.

why?? because you are justifying their hatred of radical feminists, and solidifying their refusal to listen to us. you are giving them fodder to use against our ideology, and helping them convince their “allies” that we are evil and best to be avoided.

you are doing no one any good by calling a transwoman a man. you are not proving a point to anyone, and i stead you are just giving them an excuse to blindly hate us. all they will hear is “man” and then they, and other well intentioned trans “allies” will completely shut down and refuse to hear you.

so please, fellow radicals, stop calling them “men” and “he”. If anything, use neutral pronouns and “transwoman.” You arent “confronting their delusions”. You are insulting their personal reality. And they sure as hell wont come to realize their male privilege and misogyny if you continue to do the One Big Thing youre Not Supposed To Do to them.


I got a package! Not the package I needed, but a mystery box! Okay, so some stuff I got that was on sale a month back, but which I pretended were mysteries for the sake of having some mysteries on my hands. I sort of wish I could attach a long end to the dress and give it to Lita or unit, because it’s got a universe of glitter* and looks like Jade’s dress (and they both love are Jade). I got a pair of tights that are green and sparkly too. All you would need are shoes, round glasses, and a good dog, best friend!

Anyway, I should be working on real costume stuff and working my way through the news downtown.

*I couldn’t even get a good picture of either, but I swear there’s glitter everywhere.

This is like 4 days late, but I have been sleeping all the time, and I’ve been postin’ up all my Batgirls and Batwomen and Alfreds and eating grapefruit while dancing to some Ace of Base because: priorities. So, hey, drafts folder, what’s up. I got a Superman shirt and turned it into a Super-outfit maybe. If I had my cool glasses it would maybe be a 90s (early 2000s?) Superboy outfit.

Lately I’ve been trying to figure out clothes that aren’t just pants and t-shirts or that one dress, so I figured superheroing would be a good way to learn. I’m already figuring out large belts. But also I lost my arms in the process.

Here, have the real deal:

External image
External image


“I got a postcard and I sent out a present today,” unit said, in chat, to my computer face, and I nodded like “hey, that’s nice! Wowee wow!”. Because getting mail from friends and sending mail is fucking fun and great.

And then I picked up my mail and realized she got my goat so bad it was wearing a cartoonishly evil mustache and laughing on a throne of fire.

What I’m saying is, I have the best friends and unit is one of the best humans on the planet ever. And I was jazzed just knowing I had gotten a letter and really nice stationary–

and then I found the stickers and


Unit is a Machiavellian genius and these are going to be the hardest things to stick to other things because I will never be able to stick them again afterward.

Ahh, thank you, unit! (︶ω︶)

So guess what my folks found in my old basement in Puerto Rico:

a. embarrassing photos

b. an Atari Jaguar

c. My first Batgirl comic

Okay, so they found all of these, but the Batgirl comic is the highlight. I bought this from an airport in New York on my way out there about 16 years ago. My dad had an existential crisis and suddenly decided that he, myself, and my brother needed to move out there. So both of my parents rushed some Spanish on us and booked plain tickets for our last day of school. I wouldn’t see my mother or friends or speak English again for a little over a year. I was 9.

And while not the worst thing by a long shot, I figured anything I wanted at the LaGuardia magazine stand was up for grabs as compensation for a year that was about to suck. I loved B:TAS. I loved Batgirl. I totally dug that motorcycle on the front cover. So I went with Batman: Batgirl, which was at a totally pricey $4.95 back then.

It’s sort of amazing that Kelley Puckett, the writer on this comic, would come up with Cassandra Cain just a few years later, a fact I wouldn’t find out about until I was a teenager, when the memory of the first comic melted into a blurry image of Barbara Gordon and Cass had become my new favorite.

I’m 23 now, and I’m old enough to see the holes in the writing (some really choppy post-Babs-in-a-chair retrospective storytelling), but now I’ve got a comic that’s been through airport security at least twice!

I don’t know, that made me so excited.

P.S. My folks also brought back a coffee liquor that tastes like coffee ice cream and candy, so I’m not sure, but I may be typing this pretty tipsy. I have never gone full crunk, but I’m kind of there, so I’m sorry.This whole thing seems a little too square. It’s all shapey and I sort of don’t like it.

P.P.S. I got two really nice pens and I sort of want to send some cool letters.


Oh my God,

Sometimes I can’t believe that I know the best people in the whole world.

Can you believe it? I still can’t believe it.

I guess the excitement was a little contagious because this rude fucker stuck his nose in like immediately.

Don’t worry, I got him out fast. He did this while I was snapping photos.

Yeah, that’s a tiny Justice League lunchbox where Batman is smiling, are you jealous? Are you JAMS?


The Batman and Flash shirts I was really excited about showed up in the mail the same day my mom found the Batdance record at a flea market. So now I have a bounty of baseball tees and a record I can play by making a makeshift record player out of paper. If you’re too young for the old Bat-movie hype, this insanity is what happens when you let Prince tackle Batman. Figuratively. 

So to celebrate I wore my Batshirt a few days ago and pretended I knew what I was doing when I used anything but my jeans. No one asked me to save them, but I assume it is because they were too intimidated by how vengeance and the night I was being. A baby on the train was really into me, though. She kept looking at me and waving this toy around. “Settle down, chum” I told her. “You’re not quite old enough to be a Robin yet.” But that only encouraged her theatrics.

Also, I grombled down some sushi at my desk in front of the new hot music intern with little to no shame. Fuck you and your horn-rimmed glasses, new guy. This stuff is expensive. The symbol on this shirt doesn’t stand for “Chick Who Doesn’t Gromble Food At Her Desk Like a Badass”.

I am still learning clothes. I think I will roll around in this dress for Mom’s day and make my mom some foods. Be good to your motherly figures and always drink your Ovaltine and do your homework and rest your eyes every few hours when on the computer.

No, it isn’t.

That joke is fucking awful anytime anyone tells it. It isn’t even a joke. At this point, it’s just a braying sound that slowly becomes louder, forming a vortex of shit and mediocrity. The vortex sucks in and begins to masticate anything that was once funny until they are a pulp. Like Athena, two of its offspring spring forth fully formed–Reddit and 9gag. They furiously begin to consume and watermark anything in their path. “How is this funny? Why is this still a thing?,” comic fans and non-comic fans alike scream into the vortex. “The trauma of these characters losing their parents was never meant to be played up for laughs, and even when these jokes were well-thought out, they were never good,” they sigh. All they get in return are old memeface comics based around The Dark Knight. Y so serious? the trollfaces asked, as they littered the streets, unsourced.

But they already knew why.

They had gazed long into the abyss

and the abyss

wanted them to follow their blog

because they would “love it on their dashboard.”