I read comic books. Old ones. But I also like high heels, shave my armpits (don’t check my legs in the winter), and wear mascara–I can also hold a normal conversation. I enjoy a good beer, shiny things, dresses, guns, explosives, my wiener dog, equal rights for all, sustainability, the idea of a free Tibet, and horrid Japanese gore flicks.
Here is something I have noticed over time:
I like geeks better. It’s not just the smell, the missed references, the cats, the awkward laughter when introduced to the opposite sex, the clothing, the adornments, the bumper stickers, ComiCon, the combat boots, or the bloodshot eyes at the LAN parties that get me going. It’s the grammar, syntax, wit, cursing, role-play (and other bedroom fantastic-ness), the Star Trek metaphors, the re-naming of social places (Bat Caves, Evil Lairs, and the car named Serenity), and the tattoos- the visible mark of geek-dom.
I think I shall make Millennium Falcon cakes this weekend. Little ones. Boyfriend will be ever so pleased. Pictures will follow.
And remember: Geeks do it β.