Small Sundays: Plastic Man

Posted: August 18th, 2013 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , | 2 Comments »


Plastic Man action figure (with bendy arms and legs)
Acquired: Thrift store grab bag

Note: When I bought the grab bag this was in, I got it for this figure alone . (I ended up putting the rest right back in the donation box on the way out.) Poor Plas had seen some action, and was covered in crayon and diligently placed staples from head to toe.  And by “diligently,” yes, I do mean at least one in the ass.

I forgot to check the details on the back of the figure, but I’m pretty sure this is from a Happy Meal/The Brave and the Bold tie-in, which makes it the happiest meal ever!

Guess who got a new pen?

Posted: August 6th, 2013 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | No Comments »


Take that, Jimmy Olsen! Eat it, Batman!


Posted: August 2nd, 2013 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: | 3 Comments »


A little more than 18 years ago, Rizzo showed up on our doorstep. She was already about a year old, with all the cautious suspicion of a stray. Slowly, with a combination of sweet talk and daily feeding, she let us get close. And then she let us pet her. And then she was at the screen door, meowing and demanding to be let in.

Oh, and she was pregnant. (Since she was knocked up, we would later name her Rizzo after the character from Grease.)

Sandy and I already had two cats, Peggy and Pancho, and weren’t about to take on a whole litter. We made this very clear to this undersized, cross-eyed Siamese mix.

“No, kitty!” we told her. “Go have your babies and then we’ll see.” As if she understood, she disappeared for a few weeks, only to come back no longer pregnant and looking up at us expectantly.

“OK, fine, but you’re a terrible mother” we said, opening the door for her. She trotted in and never tried to leave again.

Rizzo was a tough cat from the streets of Five Points in El Paso, and she was also the sweetest kitty ever, who wanted nothing more than to sit in your lap and purr with the resonance of an idling Harley. She was a friend, and she was our family. We will always love her, and we’ll never stop missing her; 18 years was more than we could have ever asked for. It still wasn’t enough.

We can’t deny 18 years is a long life for a cat, even for one that would eventually suffer from progressive renal failure. We know it wasn’t really her kidneys that got her — it was old age.

We know it was your time, Rizzorini, but just in case — the door is always open.