Valedictorian

I sat alone, by choice,
but not my choice.
Bleak winter afternoons spent alone
with my macaroni and cheese
and judgement-free Jello.

You sat alone, by choice.
With your perfect hair,
your perfect GPA,
your perfect boyfriend,
your perfect life.

Often, I would carry my tray carefully
toward an empty table, and hesitate; what if
I just sat with you?
Would it be so weird?
But I would pass by, eyes downcast.

I remembered when we would sit
together at lunch, giggling,
twin chestnut ponytails bobbing,
before you became popular,
and I, invisible.

How could I have known that the only real
difference between us was access
to a gun?

See, even the fashion world agrees....

Granny Panties on the Rise

Mad Men, my left ass cheek. The return of the granny panty is CLEARLY a grass roots movement by angry Wonder Woman fans. And now, I shall go to the Walmahts and buy a six-pack of Fruit of the Loom.

Bring Back the Granny Panties!

Ok, considering that I STILL want to be Wonder Woman when I grow up (I have the costume--I'm ready), I feel I need to voice my opinion about the costume/origin changes that have been thrust upon us by the powers at DC. Um, what in the star-emblazoned underpants HELL were they thinking? She looks like an extra in a Paula Abdul video, circa 1992. Wonder Woman is an icon, no less so than Superman or Batman, whose costumes remain unchanged, and integral to her iconography are the star-spangled granny panties!!

Some of the "reasoning" behind the change: Who could fight crime in such a skimpy costume? Where does she keep her keys?

Are you fucking kidding me? You can suspend your disbelief enough to buy that a man can fly and melt shit with his laser vision, but you can't fathom a woman fighting crime in a bustier? To all the politically-correct, uber-feminists who think that being a strong, capable female requires pants: there must be a drum circle or poetry slam or "Women Who Run With The Wolves" book signing somewhere.