Seems I’ve misplaced my cape again.
Gamma Girl says I should get one of those gizmos from Sharper Image that you attach to your keys and whistles when you push a button on the base station. Anesthesia said I wasn’t about to buy a gizmo, as I had a perfectly good Super Lab in the Hero Cave. Sometimes she can be such a nudzh. Like I know how to make a key whistle. I studied nuclear physics for Pete’s sake! If it doesn’t have a pulse generator on it, it might as well be a fish tank – and I don’t think I need to remind anyone of that fiasco. The Wonder Dog certainly likes Jell-O as a treat, so should fish, right!?
Anyway, I feel like a total dork without the cape. It’s not that I technically need it, but I’m not the young super hero I once was – no, I’m not – and the caboose is getting a little thick. It takes just one photographer getting a shot of me saving the city from Dr. Fiend with my big ass showing and there come all the J-Lo jokes. We super heros don’t get into this biz because we have tons of self esteem, let me tell you. And whoever came up with this profession wearing nothing but tights, never had to deal with the hairs on your leg poking though your uniform. Man it itches. (OK, I think AmazeMan was reading that last bit over my shoulder and my super hearing definitely heard something like “wuss”. Hey, I’m not the one who up sized his codpiece)
Oh, and FYI: Don’t think that you can have “just a few” drinks and be able to stop a derailing train without it giving you a splitting headache. All that screeching and crashing…, which reminds me that I need to put more advil in the utility belt. I swear, next New Year’s I’m off the sauce. Which I might also suggest for a certain gal who decided flashing open her breast-plate was a good way to ring in the new year (you know who you are).
Well, there goes the Super Signal, off to save mankind!