Tales to Astonish!

Other than being called “immortal,” I haven’t received all that many great compliments that didn’t come from people that weren’t my friends, or weren’t kissing my ass, or both. Maybe I’m just not that good at anything, or perhaps the ‘common folk’ are just too in awe of me to approach me with their offerings; it is probably one of those two circumstances. Every once in a while, though, somebody does make the effort to give me a self-esteem boost, and gives me their unique perspective on my greatness.

For instance, a few months ago a woman at work told me that she “liked [me] a lot! Now.” I thought that was really sweet, but sweeter yet was the fact that she didn’t elaborate at all. It sort of reminded me of when I told my prom date that she looked beautiful, and she told me that I looked like I was in a tuxedo. That sentiment will hover around my heart forever.

But being currently likable and wearing easily identifiable outfits aren’t the only things I’m good at, either! I am also good at losing weight, as evidenced by the verbal high-five someone once gave me when they congratulated me on being able to see my hips again, as it had “been a while.” Don’t worry, I don’t let these things go to my head! I just try to take them in stride as best I can.

Perhaps the best compliment that I’ve received recently is from one of my employees, who told me, almost teary-eyed, that I was a “good boss, a good leader,” and that he was “proud of me” for becoming the kind of person that I had when I took charge of his ass-kicking after I caught him stealing from the company. That made my day. By God, he’s right! I am a good leader!

Actually, now that I think about it, the best compliment that anyone has ever given me was by a famous ethicist whose class I was taking back in college. During our final one-on-one meeting in a coffee shop — where philosophy professors seem to be drawn to — he stopped me in mid-conversation and said: “You give answers like Jesus.” I’m still working that one out.

My hair is neat: it parts on one side most of the time, but when it gets past a certain length, it parts on the opposite side. In the middle, there are a couple of days where — if I push it to neither side — it does this:

This is what my hair looks like right now. It is awesome.

Also: That’s pretty much what my face looks like, too. And you can’t see it in this photo, but off-camera I am lifting 500-pound weights with one hand and giving orphans CPR with the other. All in day’s work!

I have nothing to post today, so I’ll just put up an illustration that I did. Enjoy! Click for bigger version.

Every morning, the friendly AM New York dude at my Queens subway stop hands me the free daily and sends me on my way to work. I’ve always liked him a lot better than any of the other people that have been stationed there over time, since he’s a legitimately friendly morning person, whereas all the other paper-hander-outers smelled like Camel Lights, urine, and despair. Until this guy’s recent return, I thought that homeless people had killed him and stolen his papers. Normally that would be a joke, but after he was replaced by a string of zoned-out haggard-looking zombie men, that’s legitimately what seemed to have happened.

Usually the free morning papers are kind of crappy — a few pages of news and then lots of fluff, along with some god-awful cartoon strips — but today it became my favorite newspaper of all time, on account of the back page alone:

A FULL-PAGE AD FOR THE XANADU MUSICAL

Has there ever been a more fitting tagline for a show? Because that one immediately responded to the first thought that the ad inspired in me. If they had a second tagline, it would be “Yes, this will be the greatest show of all time, Retropolitan. Of course you’re right, this can only be genius.” Regular readers will already know of my unholy love for the movie version of Xanadu, but this could just take it to the next level. If there’s anything that could possible cure my bottomless hatred of Broadway shows, it would probably be this; it sure as hell wouldn’t be the Batman musical.

Maybe ‘enjoys Xanadu’ isn’t the kind of thing that a straight guy should put on his Match.com profile, but c’mon, who doesn’t love watching Olivia Newton-John and Michael Beck skating around on a foggy rooftop set while singing love songs to each other? The great Gene Kelly? Animated blue people? Greek Gods? Roller disco? These are the things upon which the American Dream is built!

I’ll say one thing: if loving Xanadu is wrong, then I don’t want to be right.

There are some things in my life that just never change.

For one, my home is always decorated in dark reds, no matter where I live. I don’t wear shorts, ever. My plush Lon Chaney Jr. Wolf-Man doll is always on my bed, and I am always talking about Batman. Also, I always, always wear black wingtip shoes… until today.

Because…. I couldn’t find any?

THIS NEEDS TO BE ON A MILK CARTON

I was shocked! And disheartened! They always have them. I figured that they must be in the middle of restocking or something, so I tried another store. And another. As it turns out, there must be some sort of vast wingtip drought in the Tri-state area, because I couldn’t find any. I was forced to buy a cheap pair of similar non-brogue shoes, and it’s really not the same. I can’t work these like I could the wingtips. Everything about the world today just feels wrong and bad. I swear I saw Plush Lon Chaney Jr. recoil in horror when he saw my feet.

WOOF-MAN

On the other hand, there’s that old saying about how that one dude felt bad because he had no shoes until he met this other dude that had no feet. Or something. I think it was a metaphor about war or communism. Or feet. I guess my point is that I shouldn’t complain, because Wolf-Man has no shoes. You know what I’m saying.