I use "frigidity" here in an entirely unironic context, really.
First, some random things that must dutifully be chronicled:
1. I've been icing my ankle four or five times every a day while I go through physical therapy. My physical therapist, who is relentlessly thorough, keeps telling me that gel packs you get at drugstores aren't frigid enough and that I better either use ice or use one of those Cold Pac professional grade packs. So I've been using a frozen Cold Pac, and because he's told me to ice that goddamn ankle until I'm about to pass out, I've been gritting my teeth and trying to get my ankle down to absolute zero.
This morning I woke up with ice burns all over my ankle. VICTORY! I think I finally got it cold enough! Though at first I looked at the red patches on my ankle and thought "FLESH-EATING BACTERIA! PESTILENCE! CUT IT OFF, CUT IT OFF!" Aaaand that is what happens after I've watched an episode of 30Rock the night before, you understand. (Kenneth's repeated strawberry misadventures was...worth the price of admission, let us say.)
To make it worse, when the Marquis de Relentless, my physical therapist, told me that I had an inflammatory condition in my ankle, I mentioned this to HOT DR. BALE, because HOT DR. BALE goes on a lot about underlying inflammation being a thing with me. HOT DR. BALE got a triumphant gleam in his eye and said "Oooooh, I think I'd like to talk to this physical therapist." I would have backed away and fled supersonic like, but he had needles in his hand that he was about to stick into me. (HOT DR. BALE takes an unfortunately [for me] collaborative approach in his medical practice. His enthusiasm remains untrammeled.)
2. "Our culture must be in a coma, and I'm not a doctor" is now officially the best song lyric since "There is no hand of disordered hair."
3. This is entirely juvenile, but I laughed anyway: Thor gets high.
Okay, now I have to pimp something!
A lot of you probably already know of Italian artist David Messina, yes?
Look at this:
That, mes amis, is from an upcoming project called Wide Awake, and it's a collaboration between David Messina, Mirco Pierfederici, Eric Trautmann, and Brandon Jerwa. (Messina is the "art director" for the series. I have no idea what that actually means in the context of a webcomic, but I've been privileged to see some of the advance artwork, and it puts the Dodsons to shame.) If you read the story "Behind the Wall of Sleep" in POPGUN VOLUME TWO, you might have seen the first glimmerings of what Wide Awake is going to be about.
Posters of the above art will thankfully be available for sale starting on May 2nd. Trautmann has details here. I am so all over this that it won't even be funny. I will trample and maim to be one of the first people to be able to hang a print on my wall. (The last comic art I bought was some gorgeous prints of Jamie McKelvie's covers to Phonogram, so when I spring for art, it better be GOOD.)
Full-size visage-destroying awesome right here.
Isn't that visually arresting? She has anything but a Generic Comic Book Woman face, and her clothes are something that I actually might wear! (Most male comic artists put clothes on female characters that 99.999999% of us wouldn't be caught dead in. Actually, I'll amend that: if someone tried to dress us in what your Average Male Artist draws, we'd come back from the dead as enraged zombies and suffocate him by balling up a Naeem Khan dress and stuffing it down his throat before crawling back to the grave in our stompy boots.)
There's a good interview with Jerwa and Trautmann about Wide Awake (and their mysterious upcoming project for Vertigo) up at Pop Culture Shock.
'Nuff said!
Now, let's have some random star porn!!
From the Hubble Space Telescope circa December 2006, I bring you SUPERNOVA 1987A:
I know I was just talking about him yesterday, but it kind of looks like what happens when Jack of Hearts blows something up, doesn't it?
That's from an article on National Geographic's website today discussing the Hubble Space Telescope's greatest finds.
Edit: WAIT, I'm not done. I've been looking at the Spring RTW collections from France and Italy, and when I saw Chanel's collection, look what I found:
SEPARATED AT BIRTH? YOU DECIDE!
Chanel:
Zauriel and his flaming sword of great burnitude:
(I love Zauriel's dainty little ankles in that art. He's just so fey there. He's still a hottie, though.)
1. I've been icing my ankle four or five times every a day while I go through physical therapy. My physical therapist, who is relentlessly thorough, keeps telling me that gel packs you get at drugstores aren't frigid enough and that I better either use ice or use one of those Cold Pac professional grade packs. So I've been using a frozen Cold Pac, and because he's told me to ice that goddamn ankle until I'm about to pass out, I've been gritting my teeth and trying to get my ankle down to absolute zero.
This morning I woke up with ice burns all over my ankle. VICTORY! I think I finally got it cold enough! Though at first I looked at the red patches on my ankle and thought "FLESH-EATING BACTERIA! PESTILENCE! CUT IT OFF, CUT IT OFF!" Aaaand that is what happens after I've watched an episode of 30Rock the night before, you understand. (Kenneth's repeated strawberry misadventures was...worth the price of admission, let us say.)
To make it worse, when the Marquis de Relentless, my physical therapist, told me that I had an inflammatory condition in my ankle, I mentioned this to HOT DR. BALE, because HOT DR. BALE goes on a lot about underlying inflammation being a thing with me. HOT DR. BALE got a triumphant gleam in his eye and said "Oooooh, I think I'd like to talk to this physical therapist." I would have backed away and fled supersonic like, but he had needles in his hand that he was about to stick into me. (HOT DR. BALE takes an unfortunately [for me] collaborative approach in his medical practice. His enthusiasm remains untrammeled.)
2. "Our culture must be in a coma, and I'm not a doctor" is now officially the best song lyric since "There is no hand of disordered hair."
3. This is entirely juvenile, but I laughed anyway: Thor gets high.
Okay, now I have to pimp something!
A lot of you probably already know of Italian artist David Messina, yes?
Look at this:
That, mes amis, is from an upcoming project called Wide Awake, and it's a collaboration between David Messina, Mirco Pierfederici, Eric Trautmann, and Brandon Jerwa. (Messina is the "art director" for the series. I have no idea what that actually means in the context of a webcomic, but I've been privileged to see some of the advance artwork, and it puts the Dodsons to shame.) If you read the story "Behind the Wall of Sleep" in POPGUN VOLUME TWO, you might have seen the first glimmerings of what Wide Awake is going to be about.
Posters of the above art will thankfully be available for sale starting on May 2nd. Trautmann has details here. I am so all over this that it won't even be funny. I will trample and maim to be one of the first people to be able to hang a print on my wall. (The last comic art I bought was some gorgeous prints of Jamie McKelvie's covers to Phonogram, so when I spring for art, it better be GOOD.)
Full-size visage-destroying awesome right here.
Isn't that visually arresting? She has anything but a Generic Comic Book Woman face, and her clothes are something that I actually might wear! (Most male comic artists put clothes on female characters that 99.999999% of us wouldn't be caught dead in. Actually, I'll amend that: if someone tried to dress us in what your Average Male Artist draws, we'd come back from the dead as enraged zombies and suffocate him by balling up a Naeem Khan dress and stuffing it down his throat before crawling back to the grave in our stompy boots.)
There's a good interview with Jerwa and Trautmann about Wide Awake (and their mysterious upcoming project for Vertigo) up at Pop Culture Shock.
'Nuff said!
Now, let's have some random star porn!!
From the Hubble Space Telescope circa December 2006, I bring you SUPERNOVA 1987A:
I know I was just talking about him yesterday, but it kind of looks like what happens when Jack of Hearts blows something up, doesn't it?
That's from an article on National Geographic's website today discussing the Hubble Space Telescope's greatest finds.
Edit: WAIT, I'm not done. I've been looking at the Spring RTW collections from France and Italy, and when I saw Chanel's collection, look what I found:
SEPARATED AT BIRTH? YOU DECIDE!
Chanel:
Zauriel and his flaming sword of great burnitude:
(I love Zauriel's dainty little ankles in that art. He's just so fey there. He's still a hottie, though.)