I Have Opinions. Frak Off.

I love X-Men: First Class.

Love.

Much as I enjoy fat layers of continuity and ongoing soapy entanglements and making fun of whoever happens to be the Designated Douchebag in Marvel’s crossover of the moment (oh hey, Norman Osborn), I often yearn for a book that’s, you know…fun. And with its clever cross-section of classic and modern sensibilities, this is one that you can actually recommend to newbies. And Jean Grey is still alive (gloriously so!).

(And! And! No FROSTLOPS.)

In short, it reminds me of why I started loving comics in the first place.

But ANYWAY, this isn’t just a post about how fucking awesome I think X-Men: First Class is. (And Jeff Parker and Roger Cruz! Also with the awesome!) It’s about a certain key line within the book that’s become something of a catchphrase amongst me and my friends.

See that panel above? So there’s this story wherein Jean starts noticing that things are a little…off. Professor X can walk. Scott has eyes. Everyone’s best friends with The Blob (or “the Blizzob,” as Warren calls him. Warren = massive dork, no matter what timeline we’re in). She goes to test her powers out and Scott is all, “eh, what are you doing?” And she’s like, “just testing my powers”…and then he says it.

“Are you not feeling very ‘Marvel Girl’ today?”

Why…is this so funny?!

Probably because Scott is such a tight-ass, and it sounds like he’s talking in code.

Does he mean..

“Are you not feeling like yourself today? Do you need a hug?”

“Are you not feeling superpowery today? Do you need a new costume? Something with a face-bra, perhaps?”

“Are you not in…the mood? Do you know what I mean by that? I mean…do you have one of those ‘headaches’? I mean…do you NOT WANT TO HAVE SEX RIGHT NOW IT’S OKAY IF YOU DON’T WHATEVER WE’LL GO RUN SOME MORE DRILLS IN THE DANGER ROOM.”

It could be any of those.

Therefore, when I’m not feeling good — in any respect — I have taken to saying that I’m “not feeling very Marvel Girl.” It’s brief and appropriate and conveys this in an extremely perfect and precise way. I think we should all start saying this. Spread the catchphrase love…maybe Joe Quesada will take note and actually resurrect Jean in proper continuity.

A (Marvel) girl can dream, right?

Back when Buffy ruled the not-quite-network airwaves, I posted episode reviews on my Diaryland. That’s right — DIARYLAND. Shut up. Now I’m posting some of them here so you can see how much Teenage Me 1) loved Oz and 2) hated Buffy’s fashion “sense.”

I think we’re ready to move to season 4 and…these will probably be kind of out of order. Because…well, because I’m disorganized. Also: DISTRACTED.

But, um, anyway, here’s “Where the Wild Things Are,” aka the eppy that finally gave us a good look at Buffy’s O Face. Thanks?

“Where the Wild Things Are”

Basing episodes around supernaturally-motivated sex is always an iffy proposition. Anyone remember “Sub Rosa,” the Wuthering Heights-inspired ep of TNG? Lots of moaning, lots of otherworldly-light saturated shots, lots of that creepy guy stage-whispering “Be-vuh-LEEE!”

The supernaturally-motivated sex episode of Buffy is not quite so giggle-inspiring, but there are times when it takes on mid-’80s sitcom proportions. You know what I mean — whenever someone wants to leave the room for some inane reason (”Oops, Mallory and her new boyfriend probably want to be alone, eh, Alex?”), they don’t bother making up an excuse. Instead, they just start referring to “the thing.” As in, “We have to leave because I want to show you that…thing,” or “We have to go attend to that thing I was telling you about,” or some such nonsense.

Buff and Riley basically do the same thing here, only when they say “the thing,” they’re just leaving the room to Do It. And Do It. And Do It some more. Eventually, they Do It so much, that the camera pulls back to reveal they are Doing It on Riley’s bed, which is surrounded by black nothingness. Apparently, Stanley Kubrick resurrected himself to direct this episode.

Anyway, eventually it’s revealed that there are some restless spirits causing all sorts of sexual mayhem in the Initiative frat house. That’s fine and all, but it’s not really developed that well, and the main storyline isn’t nearly as interesting as all the little things going on off to the side. For example, there’s the priceless interplay between Spike and Anya (”You made me yell really high!”) — I always knew these two had a certain oddness in common.

Their interaction makes up a bit for the fact that the Xander/Anya stuff isn’t quite as central or touching as I had hoped. For my money, their best scene is still that little moment in “Hush,” wherein X-Man realizes she’s safe from Spike and scoops her up in his arms.

Also, I really like how Forrest is attempting to call attention to himself by wearing a bright orange turtleneck. I imagine that he is thinking that his days are numbered, what with the Initiative storyline coming to an end, and as he’s not the love interest of any major character, he must do something that will just scream, “Upgrade me to regular!” While I do not think this particular ploy will work, Forrest, I admire your initiative (heh, get it? Initiative?).

And of course, the big moment that guaranteed that this wasn’t an entire washout was Giles’ debut as a coffeehouse singer. He could give Backstreet Riley and the Boy Band Commandos a run for their money, orange turtlenecks and all.

Here’s what I wanted to do last weekend: Long Beach Comic-Con. Miles of back issues, short sleeve-appropriate weather, and that Islands across the street that I have, for some inexplicable reason, fallen completely and hopelessly in love with. (Seriously, it’s WAY BETTER than all the other Islands. They put crack in the ranch dressing or something.)

Don’t these people look like they’re having fun?

Here’s what I ended up doing instead: UnCon.

Because the magazine I work for decided they wanted “colorful” “coverage” of a “grassroots” “fan-run” convention. I nearly “retched.”

Anyway. I’ve actually been to UnCon before and there is some fun to be had. I mean, it’s one of the few cons that doesn’t have a major Hollywood presence at this point (unless you want to count the panel on “the growing sparklefic phenomenon,” which featured a handful of slash writers and the scariest Robert Pattinson impersonator I have ever seen). The focus is definitely on comics and books and big-time geek love. I could use a little more of that in San Diego, y’know?

And I did buy some shit. More Annihilation trades, because I can’t seem to get enough of the ANNIHILATING. Patsy Walker: Hellcat, because Kathryn Immonen is awesome. And some black and white “real people” comics from these folks, because I’m a sucker for a storyline that involves a Louise Brooks bob.

So yeah, I guess I had an okay time.

That said? Avoid the Klingon Karaoke. Avoid it like the fucking plague.

Back when Buffy ruled the not-quite-network airwaves, I posted episode reviews on my Diaryland. That’s right — DIARYLAND. Shut up. Now I’m posting some of them here so you can see how much Teenage Me 1) loved Oz and 2) hated Buffy’s fashion “sense.”

“The Prom”…apparently, I really believed in sappiness back in the day. I think I’m coming back around to that viewpoint. MAYBE.

“The Prom”

Further proving my theory that any given episode is only as good as Buffy’s hairdo, this week’s outing is just one gorgeous head toss away from a really great shampoo commercial. That’s right, Buffy Buffs — it’s a good one, and naturally it comes just as the season is about to end.

So it’s time for the prom, and Buff’s jonesing for Angel to take her. But Angel is being his usual fun self and worrying about the future of their relationship, and how they’re from different worlds and blah blah blah. Get over it, already…oh, that’s right, you can’t, you have your own spin-off to go star in. Anyway, naturally, this involves the requisite Totally Obvious Dream Sequence (Buffy and Angel getting married) that the WB feels compelled to use in the preview — like we’re going to fall for that again. Buffy is oblivious to Angel’s indulgent musings, and is busily scribbling things like “Angel and Buffy 4-ever” (excuse me, shouldn’t that be “4-evah”?) in her notebook, so it’s quite a blow when the guy actually dumps her.

Now, here’s where the good stuff starts to come in. Buffy is none the better than when she gets all teary and wounded — we get to see her human side, even though we know she’s bound to bounce back with a vengeance. When Angel begins to spew cliches at her (”I’m trying to think with my head instead of my heart”), her eyes get all big and expressive and sad and she looks like a little doe. A doe in a lavender angora sweater.

Of course, then our girl is on to doing that other thing she does so well — the firm resolve thing. Some hellhounds are out to spoil the prom, and she’s not gonna let ‘em. She saves the day and the prom and apprehends the hellhounds, who have been programmed to go crazy over prom-related stuff by a bitter dude who was rejected by his would-be date. Interestingly enough, these particular hellhounds look like they borrowed Oz’s werewolf costume and slapped on some Vulcan ears.

Anyway, along with the prom, there are many cute, cute, cute moments with our other friends. Xander is adorable, covering for Cordy and buying her a prom dress and showing her that he still cares. Oz and Willow look completely darling. And even the ultra-cheesy moment wherein Buffy gets an award for “protecting” the senior class is nice, though I’m puzzled as to why her “prize” is a hideous tinsel-encrusted parasol. Why not a shiny new crossbow or something?

Finally, this episode has a perfect, bittersweet ending. Just Buffy and Angel, dancing the night away and knowing that it can’t last and darned if I’m not making myself sick just writing about it.

Wow. So someone finally got me to read Agents of Atlas and it fucking RULES MY SOUL.

This is the kind of thing I would put on Twitter if I had a Twitter, right? Well, fuck you, I’m not getting a Twitter.

Back when Buffy ruled the not-quite-network airwaves, I posted episode reviews on my Diaryland. That’s right — DIARYLAND. Shut up. Now I’m posting some of them here so you can see how much Teenage Me 1) loved Oz and 2) hated Buffy’s fashion “sense.”

Here’s “Choices,” ie The Review Where I Talk About Oz A Lot.

“Choices”

I was all set to give this episode a bum rating — it was kinda slow, it didn’t hang together all that well, and it didn’t seem to do much but advance the Ascension storyline a bit and foreshadow Angel and Cordy taking off for next season’s spin-off. But then three key moments managed to redeem it ever so slightly.

Moment #1: Oz knocks over a vase. Amidst everyone squabbling over the best way to rescue Willow, Oz gets up, sweeps the vase onto the floor (making for a nice crash), and turns his implacable gaze upon the rest of the gang. He says not a word. He doesn’t have to.

Moment #2: Oz expresses concern for Willow’s safety. Faith holds a knife to Willow’s throat. Angel cannot resist taunting Faith a bit, causing her to pull the knife closer. Firmly yet quietly, Oz steps forward and simply warns: “Angel…”

Moment #3: Oz is protective of Willow. The gang exchanges the big scary box for the hostage Willow. They throw the box to Faith, who, in turn, shoves Willow over to them. Oz steps protectively in front of her, shielding her from harm.

Oh, Oz…only your sweet, werewolf self could save what is otherwise a rather dull outing. The moments with Willow and Buffy girl bonding are also sweet, but other than that, all we’ve got is a big box of scary spiders and hints of what’s in store for the gang come next season. We still don’t know much about the Ascension, Faith is still doing her “I’m bad and I’m showing lots of cleavage, but maybe I have feelings” thing, and Buffy is still crimping her hair (stop it!).

But next week’s the prom, so we’re sure to get some good stuff. Until then, those three great moments of Oz-ness will tide me over.

This month is all about GinormoCon prep. Hydrating, strategizing, t-shirt picking…outing. It’s like getting ready for a marathon. A marathon with Jawas.

I always need to have some kind of background noise on while I’m engaged in con prep, preferably a TV show I’ve seen 5 billion times and can recite from memory. Last night was Spaced. And while I’d gladly watch the whole fucking series from top to bottom (”Skip to the End” included), I kept it to three eps…three key moments in the Spacedverse.

S1, Ep1: “Beginnings”: Daisy and Tim meet for the first time and they meet HILARIOUSLY. Establishes all the characters excellently and contains that awesome mutant rat CG sequence.

S1, Ep5: “Chaos”: The gang hatches a Star Wars-themed scheme to retrieve their missing dog, Colin. “Is Chewie the princess?” “Yes.”

S2, Ep5: “Gone”: I’m pretty sure I can make this definitive statement: Best finger-guns battle ever captured on film. And some totally sweet Tim-Daisy stuff, which melts my cold, dead heart — or comes close to doing so, anyway.

Back when Buffy ruled the not-quite-network airwaves, I posted episode reviews on my Diaryland. That’s right — DIARYLAND. Shut up. Now I’m posting some of them here so you can see how much Teenage Me 1) loved Oz and 2) hated Buffy’s fashion “sense.”

Ah, “Earshot” — the famous lost episode. Postponed due to Columbine, it finally aired during the show’s summer hiatus.

“Earshot”

Here it is folks, the “lost episode” — aka Buffy pulls a Deanna Troi. Seems that a run-in with a pair of oozy demons leaves our poor girl with the ability to hear people’s thoughts. At first, this makes her all smug and self-important — she knows all about Xander’s obsession with sex, Willow’s insecurity, and Oz’s deep well of insight. Like anyone who watches this show wouldn’t be able to pick up on those things in a matter of seconds, but whatever.

What actually matters here is that Buffy goes on to use this device to fine effect. As our girl picks up on the latent fears and worries of everyone around her, we are given insight into the microcosm of society that is high school. Thoughts overheard range from the sad-but-typical (”I hate my body”) to the amusingly mundane (”Some day, my pants are gonna fall right off”). But then, Buffy hears something disturbingly different — a plan for mass murder, to take place at the school the following day. As she’s plunged further into insanity, her mind overwhelmed by the din of overheard voices, the rest of the gang works on ferreting out the killer.

Now, can I have a moment to point out why this show is so great? Yes, we all know that Buffy’s going to bust in and save the day, blah blah blah. And that provides for a wonderful and dandy twist at the end. However, equal weight is given to Buffy’s other dilemma — she’s worried that Angel might have enjoyed his pretend make-out sessions with Faith a little too much, and attempts to read his mind and find out. Ah, brilliant — for all their clever one-liners and double-speak, Buffy’s teens are painfully real.

Let’s not forget the one-liners entirely, though. This episode has them coming out of its ears. Check out Xander, offering a bit of insight into Oz: “For a minute there, I thought you were gonna make an expression.” Or what about Cordelia, in response to Xander’s reprimand. Xander: “You have no shame.” Cordy: “Oh please, like shame is something to be proud of.” Or Angel’s hilariously deadpan dig at all those naysayers who think he has no sense of humor: “I’m a funny guy.” Uh, yeah.

Finally, “Earshot” scores some extra bonus points for having the Buffster execute some major, superhuman gymnastics, the likes of which we have not seen since season one. Oh, I like this. I like it a lot. While “Earshot” will probably always be remembered most for being pulled at the last minute, hopefully we’ll also be able to view it as a great example of all the things this show does best — zippy dialogue, poignant moments, and important, socially relevant messages (i.e. — always beware of the lunch lady).

No one remembers how The Periodic Seven ended.

And by “no one,” I mean “the five people who clung stubbornly to the book as it thrashed its final death throes and faded into dusty quarter-bin obscurity.”

Yes, I was one of those people. Shut up.

In the climactic story arc, the team faces off against Monstrovore, a gigantic, tentacled beast genetically engineered by Doctor Halogen. Said creature paralyzes its foes by invoking an amorphous sort of dread — a nameless, faceless horror — in their very souls. For three wretched issues, it tortures the Seven, forcing them to confront their worst fears, face their angst-laden demons, blah blah, a shitload of flashbacks and dream sequences, blah blah.

So how do they defeat this monster, this looming threat to their sanity and their lives and civilization as we fucking know it?

They don’t.

Instead, Monstrovore picks them off one by one, and we watch our heroes die a series of increasingly gratuitous deaths, ultimately disappearing into the filthy basement of forgotten comic book history.

I know. I know.  It’s a completely batshit-insane detour into Shark-Jumping Crazyland, only it’s more like this particular storyline clears the shark and keeps running and then trips over a few random potholes before blazing off into the distance, cackling maniacally and flipping everyone — fans! Marvel! — the bird.

At the time, I had no Lovecraftian frame of reference, so I didn’t realize that good ol’ Monstro was basically a bargain-basement take on a Cthulhu-esque creation — a Schmthulu, of sorts. But you know what? Schmthulu fucking terrified me. I was nine. I didn’t know about comic book sales figures and cancellations and vindictive writers who decide to send their doomed titles off in a blaze of something resembling dubious glory. All I knew was that this was the one thing Glory Gilmore couldn’t defeat, the one evil she couldn’t conquer.

In my adult years, all of my irrational fears have taken on a Schmthulu sort of mantle. Whenever I feel a stab of out-of-nowhere terror — like, for example, the night after I saw The Grudge and was afraid to cross my apartment building’s courtyard because I suddenly thought the big-mouthed cat boy was going to jump out from behind the stairwell and kill me and yes, this was the American version, I can’t even bring myself to watch the “real” one, fuck you — I imagine Schmthulu rising up inside of me, threatening to swallow me whole. And that’s when I’ve gotta step up and do a little Buffy-esque posturing and kick his/her/its ass, for the sake of maintaining my own carefully calibrated equilibrium.

And for Glory Gilmore, who couldn’t fight back in the end.

Back when Buffy ruled the not-quite-network airwaves, I posted episode reviews on my Diaryland. That’s right — DIARYLAND. Shut up. Now I’m posting some of them here so you can see how much Teenage Me 1) loved Oz and 2) hated Buffy’s fashion “sense.”

So, “Doppelgangland.” This one’s kinda interesting now that we have some…perspective, no? I also like how I called Emma Caulfield “90210 girl.” I was pretty awesome.

“Doppelgangland”

Oh, Willow, Willow…how I love your witty geekgirl ways, your kind demeanor, your ability to make a pencil spin in mid-air during senior lunch period. How great is it that this week’s “Buffy” lets us see you as both your sweet self and a leather-encased, bored diva badass?

Yes, folks, to the delight of fanfic writers everywhere, the evil vampire version of Willow (from the alter-world featured earlier this season) returns to wreak havoc on the Scooby Gang this week, thanks to the rantings of that demon girl played by former “90210″ chick Emma Caulfield. Of course this comes at a time when our Willow is feeling a bit put upon by everyone’s expectations — as she says, she’s “not just some doormat person.” No she’s not! So, alter-Willow and our Willow collide, lives are threatened, lives are saved, and Willow gains newfound respect from her peers (and an odd sort of bond with her grouchy double).

Oh, also there’s a few minutes of the continuing Faith Saga…can we please make her good again and be done with it? While there’s no doubt that she’d make a better bad guy than the rest of the people they’ve introduced this season (bonus: she looks kind of like a punky Katie Holmes), turning her evil only creates this weird “Faith just looks so different from Buffy…we knew she was bad!” thing that’s just wrong. And that just means that college professors everywhere will now be on the receiving end of dissertations on how the visual signifiers in adolescent-themed television programs reinforce the dominant paradigm of teenage conformity and who wants that? End it now.

But back to Willow. I must say that evil Willow is the best alter-character since “Deep Space Nine’s” Intendant Kira, and they seem to have many things in common — fondness for tight leather, red hair, narcissistic tendencies… Alyson does a fabulous job with her dual role, all wide-eyed and Willow-y one moment, bored and nasty the next.

This episode was written and directed by Joss, and there are excellent one-liners aplenty, such as when alter-Willow meets our Willow: “Well look at me. I’m all…fuzzy.” In fact, so good was this episode — a definite high point in an on and off season — that usually I’d give it five stars. Unfortunately, it has but one tragic flaw — where the hell is Oz? He should’ve figured prominently in this episode, but he ends up having less screen time than the “90210″ girl. In fact, he seems to have less screen time all around now that he’s become a regular. For shame.