February 5, 1999: Rushmore is released—Max Fischer: The greatest geek protagonist in cinema history? He did save Latin, after all.
2000: A man named Miles Rohan founds The Corduroy Appreciation Club—The rest of the world gets wise to what geeks have known forever—corduroy rules. And it feels really good on the upper thigh.
December 2003: Battlestar Galactica (re-imagined)—A TV show for nerds that’s as good as The Wire. So say we all.
November 22, 2005: Achievement Whores keep…whoring—Such people will one day understand the true meaning of the word “achievement,” set down the controller, step outside and discover what the rest of us call “sunlight.”
June 29, 2007: iPhone touches down—It makes fingertips even more useful, has a built-in vibrator and access to the Internet. The best sex toy that can also sometimes make a call ever invented.
January 20, 2009: Barack Obama is inaugurated as the forty-fourth President of the United States of America—The nerdiest country in the world, finally gets the egghead president it deserves. God bless this great and geeky nation of ours!
It probably won’t shock you to learn that I like the original Star Wars quite a bit. I’d probably say I like it as much as the next guy or girl. Well, not if the next guy is the kind who dances around his apartment to DJ Chris’s “Fette’s Vett” while wearing only his banana-hammock and a Wookie mask. But you know what I mean. The film is an iconic pop-culture creation and touches a bazillion filmgoers to their very core.
It can also be very useful. Useful? What the hell am I talking about? Glad you asked. What I mean is the way that George Lucas’s masterpiece contains lessons that can and should be applied to real life. The one that jumps out at me is the message of The Force and how if you stay pure and good and mentally sharp you can, in fact, conquer the Dark Side.
For me, the Dark Side is all the people who have tried to hold me back or undermine me or have stood in the way of my dreams. (Sorry, just lapsed into my own personal Behind the Music episode.) When that happens, I metaphorically lift my hand up and use Jedi powers to restrict their breathing and then pick up a drinking glass and smash it in their face. Okay, yes, it was Darth Vader who likes to restrict breathing and he is part of the Dark Side, so this metaphor is faulty—but I can’t help it if Yoda is too much of a pussy to restrict breathing and then smash a glass in someone’s face. Seriously—Yoda, sweetie, baby, love ya, but you’re not exactly considered a badass.
Yoda is too much of a pussy to restrict breathing.
Here’s a quick story illustrating what I’m talking about. I studied journalism in college, and one of my first jobs after graduating was on the assignment desk of a local TV affiliate in Tulsa, Oklahoma. That is quite possibly the worst job in all of journalism. You have to sit there listening to a million (yes, one million) police scanners going great guns all at once and pay attention to catch something—anything—newsworthy on the scanner, like a four-car pileup or a bank heist. I never really cared that much and so I was never that good at it. But it was a job, and it was fine. So, end of story, right? Not quite. See, there was a group of people there who were mean to me—like, vicious. I found out once that some of them were e-mailing each other about cutting my brake lines and carving letters into my skin. Sick shit, you know? I took to working twenty-hour-days on Saturday and Sunday so I wouldn’t have to come in during the week and deal with them.
I worked there for a year, because I promised my mom I would give it an honest try. As soon as that year was up, I bolted. And as soon as I gave notice, wouldn’t you know: all the psychopathic haters were suddenly so nice to me and wanted desperately to know where I was going. I smiled, gave them nothing and didn’t let their negative creepiness slow me down. And never looked back. I just got all Jedi on their asses and was like: “Who is more foolish, the fool or the fool who follows him?” Ya know? Wait, does that make sense in this context? I think so. Wait. Read it back…Yeah, it totally does.
In any case, let me just say that even if I am not a Star Wars obsessive who camps out for weeks to be first in line for the next installment (not that there’s anything wrong with not having anywhere to go to the bathroom), I absolutely appreciate the great film’s place not only in geek canon, but in the real world. Lessons can be learned from each and every movie in the series. Like take this lasting and most important lesson from Return of the Jedi: If you ever have the option, always, always wear a gold bikini. Trust me, I know, I’ve done it once or twice.
I had this boyfriend once and after we had sex one night we were lying in bed watching TV and cuddling. Suddenly he turned to me and confessed he wanted to tell me something about himself that he’d never told anyone. I was excited—girls love sharing and learning about the man they’re with. I perked up and cuddled closer to hear the mysteries of the guy I had become so fond of. Was it about how he hopes to have kids someday? His dream job? How hot he thinks Alyssa Milano is and I remind him of her?
And then he said it:
“Sometimes I fantasize about sucking a dick.”
My eyes became as big as saucers. I answered with a surprisingly simple question: “Sucking your dick, or someone else’s?”
He responded: “No one’s dick. It’s just a big, black dick and it’s just sort of floating out there. And I suck it.”
Me: “Do you want to suck a dick?”
Him: “….…I don’t know.”
There was a long silence. Then I asked, “Do you want me to find you a guy so you can suck his dick?”
He sat there for another long stretch of silence.
Then he said, “No. But, thank you.”
We broke up the next day.
He was a nice guy.
I hope he finally got to suck a dick.
INTRO: As that great twentieth-century thinker, George Michael, once so eloquently put it: Sex is natural and sex is good. True. But may I be so bold as to add: Sex, great sex, can be very hard to have. But, yes, it is natural and good and with a few pointers, you too could make it GREAT. So that is why I would like to now offer a few ideas for how to make it less weird, even more fun, and occur way more often. Unlike most sexual encounters, I don’t think you’ll be disappointed by my advice.
1. Wrap it Up, We’ll Take it
You always dribble before you shoot, so make sure to wrap it up. Translation: Do not have sex without a condom. Even if you plan on pulling out, a few drops of your man-juice can spill out before you do and then, just like magic, it’s kid time! Sure they can be cute, but it’s so not worth it. Yes, guys will say that you can’t feel anything with a condom, or they want to raw-dog it because it makes them feel closer to their girlfriend. But let me reiterate: No matter how good the sex is, even if she is Giselle Body-By-God Bundchen, it’s not good enough to pay child support (roughly 30 percent of your income) for eighteen years. So wrap it up! Also, if you get an STD, you’re marked for life. Herpes, genital warts, AIDS (AIDS!), hepatitis—that shit’s for life. Sex, on the other hand, is just for two minutes!
You always dribble before you shoot, so make sure to wrap it up.
2. Listen to Your Lover (Or Babe, Sweetie Cakes, Hot Rod, Honey, Dancing Queen, Dairy Queen, etc.)
If she tells you she likes it when you bite her neck—do it! It doesn’t matter where she learned that she likes it or why she does, just be thankful you got the tip. Girls don’t always express what they want, so when she does say it, you really want to make sure you are paying attention. Also, learn her language (unless it is Mandarin, because that shit is impossible). If you start pulling her hair and she starts moaning, that’s her way of saying, “Ohmygod, please do this more, and by more I mean all the time.” And the more you please her, the more she’ll want to do it with you. It’s a win-win!
3. Get Down and Dirty
Okay, I know a lot of people have a hard time talking dirty—they don’t know what to say, how to start, or when to end it. Also, at first they will think they sound ridiculous. And they might. Bu
t let me just say that talking dirty is so important in sex. And it’s pretty easy. To wit: establish from the very beginning that you like this. And trust me, you want to do it early on. Because if you wait too long to introduce the concept, your Special Lady Friend will be a little thrown and might not take you seriously. Think of it as a hat. If you never, ever wear a hat and one day you try to rock a fedora with a feather, all of your friends will be like, “Dude—why are you wearing a fucking fedora with a fucking feather?” You’ll feel insecure and never wear it again. Now imagine that scenario, but in bed with your hardened dick out and it’s your girlfriend saying, “Dude—why the fuck are you talking like that?” Not good.
So, how do you start? I think a simple text message from the beginning of the relationship is perfect. Send a text that says, “Hey, I wish I was inside you right now.” (Ed. Note: Do not send texts like this if you are thinking of running for public office, or text only from one of those Go-Mobile pay-as-you-go phones.) It’s specific enough and kinda dirty, but not degrading. She’ll get excited that you’re thinking of her and so turned on with the text that she’ll engage in your sex-text conversation.
Now here’s the best way to talk dirty. Forget everything you’ve seen in porn (and, yeah, everyone knows about your porn habit)—that doesn’t work for girls. It’s simple. Just describe what you want to do to her. Whatever you do, just be very descriptive. When you’re taking her clothes off, tell her that you’ve been thinking about being inside her all day. Describe how it feels for you, how you want it to feel for her. Then pray to God it hasn’t happened in your pants already so she can rip them off you.
4. The Art of Seduction
Lord knows it ain’t easy keeping the love alive, but there are ways to do it that don’t involve Cosmo magazine or duct tape. First off, always switch it up. That doesn’t mean you have to dress like a perverted pirate and drop down from the ceiling. It just has to feel fresh. Like the moment she opens the door, grab her, shut the door and have your way with her right there in the foyer. Just that little moment will keep things exciting.
Or make a pact that you won’t have sex for a week. (What? A week is a long time!) The buildup will be so intense that you will both, inevitably, break the pact, but the sex will be amazing and you’ll feel closer, having broken the rules together.
And this is a tad more ambitious, but totally worth the effort: If you are driving by yourself and see a place that looks great for fucking—a clearing in the woods, a roadside waterbed, etc.—remember it, then drive back by with her in the car. Pretend like you just thought of it and tell her you want to have sex in that open house…but only if you can afford the mortgage because there’s a good chance she won’t want to leave! In which case, don’t forget to have your mail forwarded and the cable disconnected back at the old pad.
San Diego’s Comic-Con International is my favorite convention to go to all year. It’s like the mothership calling me home. It’s filled with fans dressed up as their favorite characters, movie stars, smaller specialty stars and exclusive set pieces flown or shipped in just for the convention.
It really is the one place where you can set free your inner nerd without any shame. You can dress up as Jar Jar Binks and fall in love with someone else dressed as Silk Spectre…and no one judges you. In fact, everyone embraces it. Yes, even Jar Jar!
Nerd. Geek. Used to be if you self-identified that way, you’d get thrown into a locker and never have sex. Or worse, whatever that is (have you seen the size of those lockers???). But to me and more and more people I know, being a nerd or a geek means having passion, power, intelligence. Being a nerd just means there is something in the world that you care deeply about—be it twelve-sided dice, a favorite sports team, your new laptop or Knight Rider. And I’ve always found geeks sexy. If you look back on all the guys I’ve dated (with the exception of a few douches here and there) most of them are dorky-looking. But what I’ve always found attractive about these kinds of guys is their ability to be passionate about something (usually video games and Star Wars, in my experience) and not be ashamed of it. It’s really sexy to be around someone who knows how to tear apart a computer and put it back together—and loves doing it. Maybe I’m alone in this, but I don’t think so. Nerds are sexy.
And Comic-Con is nerd heaven. I love spending time with them, mingling and meeting—hell, I am one myself. One year at Comic-Con security threatened to shut down G4’s live show because so many fans had gathered near our stage and they wanted to avoid a fire hazard. But, I really wanted to spend time with the fans who just wanted a picture or an autograph. So, after the show, I spent five hours signing every magazine, picture, and T-shirt that the fans wanted ink on.
I don’t get people who don’t get why I like spending time with the fans. I mean, why wouldn’t I enjoy that? One of the most important things to me in my work is the fans. I know that without their support, I wouldn’t have any of this. It might sound cheesy but it is so true.
Oh, and another great thing about nerds? Their artistic abilities and witty senses of humor. Seriously. My fans are really funny, clever and sarcastic. And often times they show it with their fan art—artistic tributes to my spazzy, superfun and, yes, nerdy existence. I’ve been lucky enough to accumulate a nice collection to share with you. So please enjoy a few examples of these marvelous creations.
Fork That!, by Laura Babcock | Rarely, if ever, have we seen such a perfect rendering of om nom nom.
Devil Girl, by Isaac Richardson III | A throroughly meta examination of what it means to be human in the 21st century in super hot jeans.
Excuse Me!, by Andy “Savory” Wilson | An exquisite study in realism.
Freckles, by Chris Nelson | Haunting use of negative space.
Munnyuns, by Kris Ayres | This is a poingant comment on hyper commercialism and of, oh fuck it…Funions! Yum!
Munn Hope, by Josh Wilson | An interesting statement on presidential campaign art. And Wonder Woman.
Snack Time, by CRXTHRASHER | Mmmmmm, pie.
Unwound, by Emil Agarunov | An interesting statement on outmoded technologies. And hot cleavage.
Red Hot Pooper, by Andre Walker | Excellently captures the subject in her natural habitat.
Still Life with Top Hat and Giant Bunny, by Jeremy Natividad | A surrealist masterpiece. Plus: bunnies are cute.
Liv Pen, #2, by Diego Nunez Castellanos | Exquisite employment of crosshatching.
Cosmo Munn, by Ben Precup | This vision of a paranoid, techno-future thrums with the anxiety of a world in which machines rule us and well-crafted underwire bras are essential to one’s survival.
Ownage, by Jeff Kim | A dynamic exploration of the real. Also: don’t fuck with me.
Floaterbot, by Mark van Olmen | Vividly captures the isolation of a modern existence and how, in the future, we will take our joysticks everywhere, even into the stomachs of our personal robot slaves.
Zombie Munn, by Doug Circle | Reminiscent of classical baroque-period paintings, if classsical baroque-period paintings featured more zombies and mysterious dead girls bobbing in pools of blood.
PiePhone, by Kris Ayres | Finally, an app we really want.
When I was two my mom married her second husband. He had two kids and one of them was Annie, a girl around the same age as me. She was beautiful. She had long blond hair, light eyes and was very girly and sweet. I was the polar opposite: polyester pants, striped boy long-john shirts and long, tangled, black hair. Not girly at all.
At four we went into kindergarten together. I remember she wore her favorite yellow dress with ruffly bloomers underneath and hair in two perfect pigtails. She was so excited for school and friends and learning. Then there was me—blue polyester pants, red striped sweater, hair pulled into a ponytail because it was too tangled to do anything else. The only thing we had in common, it seemed, was that I was equally excited about meeting new friends. And skin—we both had skin over our bones. So there were two things we had in common.
On t
he first day of school Mom drops us off at the door of the classroom and turns to leave. Annie and I walk into the class and follow the teacher’s instructions to hang our backpacks on the hooks and pick a seat at a table. I hurried over and threw my backpack somewhere and went to find a seat and maybe a new best friend! I head for one seat and almost reach it when the girl sitting next to me puts her hand on it and says, “This isn’t for you.” I turned and looked for the next open seat. There were just two left. One was at a table full of girls and the other was a table full of boys. Like most girls at this age, I hated all boys except for my brothers.
One of the girls at the all-girl table motioned for me to come sit with them. I smiled, relieved I dodged the alternative, and grabbed the seat. Before I could sit down, the girl looks at me confused and says, “No not you…her.” Annie was walking up behind me and took the seat at the table…and I went to sit with the boys. This isn’t for you—those words still make me want to throw up and cry and develop a prescription drug habit that I know won’t really help me in the long run but will bring sweet, sweet relief in the moment.
Suck It, Wonder Woman! Page 3