Tag Archives: Arrow

I Had A Favorite Sweater



It’s been a few weeks, not A week, I know, but I’ve had good reason! I needed some time to process because a thing has happened. (and no, to all you well-wishers and dreamers, I AM NOT PREGNANT).

Have you ever owned a sweater that hugged you in just the right way? It gave you warmth when you were cold. It gave you comfort when you were sad or lonely. It gave you confidence when you were insecure and overwhelmed. It was your happy place.

Then one day, the close friend who gave you the sweater asks to borrow it. They won’t have it for long. They promise to have it back to you in no time. Reluctantly, you agree. I mean, they gave you the sweater after all…

Time goes by and you have had yet to receive your sweater. You miss it, but know that it’s safely in the hands of your trusted friend. It will come back to you soon.

More time goes by and you miss it so much. You finally ask your friend how your favorite sweater in the whole wide world is doing because life just isn’t the same without it. You want to know when your happy place is coming home. Your friend promises you’ll have it back soon.

Again, more time goes by. You inquire about your sweater once more as your patience is growing rather thin. Weirdly, your friend deflects, speaks in vagaries and about other sweaters they think you might adore as much as the one they borrowed from you. Essentially, you don’t find the answer you seek.

The next thing you know, sweater season is half way through and you haven’t had an opportunity to enjoy your happy place once. It’s bullshit. You call out your “friend”. You demand answers. You want your favorite sweater back and you want it now.

It is finally back in your arms, but instead of your favorite sweater returned in its pristine condition, the threads are unravelling, the body’s been stretched, and the yarn’s been worn bare. The entire sweater is coming apart at the seams. This is not your sweater. This is not your happy place. You don’t even recognize what you’re “friend” has given you. You want to believe it can be salvaged, but there’s just no way. THIS is a pile of shit masquerading as your favorite sweater. You won’t wear shit. Shit is not your happy place.

THIS is what the Arrow writers have done with my favorite show. Don’t trust people with your favorite sweater.


Arrow #504 “Penenace” Review


I have never written a review, but last night’s episode #504 of Arrow, titled “Penance”, inspired me. So here you go, my takeaway from last night’s ep…

Curtis – I’m weak AF. Watch me take a licking and keep on— getting licked …again. And again. And again. And again (and again) because clearly the writers no longer want me to be liked.

Wild Dog – I’m a trouble making jackass that continues to pitch petulant fits and ignore anything anyone tells me EVER. ALSO, I’m a complete misogynistic ass hat because clearly the writers don’t want me to be liked.

Artemis – I’m just hanging around, you know, not really contributing but not really disrupting the status quo, either, because clearly the writers needed another female on the team but are waiting to put any effort into my character or storyline till later in the season. THEN, maybe, I can be liked.

Rory – I’m here to be sad and make angsty art, yet the writers clearly wanted me to be liked by giving me the backstory, groundwork, and sensitivity to be accepted by a discerning audience that knows better within the first three episodes of the season.

Thea – Um… I’m not really concerned with saving the city or helping out in Oliver’s absence because that would have been in character, obvs. Clearly the writers want EVERYONE IN THE FANDOM to hate me now, not just the majority of them.

Lance – I’m completely irrelevant at this point, just like they’ve made me for the last season and a half. Clearly the writers have no plan for me and no longer want me to be liked.

Felicity – I’m just happy to be here at this point, you know, in the background, condescended to like a four-year-old…OH! OH! OH! AND like four years of character development never happened! The writers clearly don’t want me to be liked anymore.

Oliver – I’m … something else. Clearly the writers don’t know what that is right now, but believe I’ll be liked nonetheless. (I think they might be wrong)

Lyla – I’m like “Who dis bitch, Oliver? She better step-off like now!” (insert evil laugh) AH HA! Actually, I’m not Lyla at all BITCHES! I’m a feeling-less cyborg that LOOKS like Lyla here to destroy any semblance of a relationship Lyla had with Felicity because clearly the writers no longer want Lyla or Felicity to be in character or liked.

Dig – I’m just here to insert an inside joke from season one. Clearly the writers thought that was enough for me to still be liked.

And there you have it. Last night’s episode in the nutshell.


A Real Fan


Being a fan means something. It gives you purpose. It fills a hole in your heart that you can’t explain. It offers an outlet for your passions to be released. Being a part of a fandom? Well, that can make you feel right at home. A fandom is like a family. There will be different levels of involvement. Some only show up for the main events, while others show up at everything. Some will irritate you and some will become closer than you could ever imagine. Some are sane, but there’s always those nutters like your old Aunt Alma who’ve cornered the market on crazy. Regardless, through thick and thin, if you’re a fan, you are not alone.

I, myself, have been a fan of many things through the years. Being a fan of anything can be as exhilarating and joyous as it can be frustrating, tiresome, and depressing (any Cubs fan will confirm this is true). Being a fan is also an investment. Whether it’s time or finances being sacrificed for the love of the game, television show, fictional character, political ideal, etc., one’s energy is being spent in the form of unadulterated devotion. This is meaningful. THIS is a big deal. However, after watching my Twitter timeline implode like Donald Trump during this week’s debate, I question what being a fan is really all about.

There are those that go with the flow, and then there are those that go bat-shit-crazy too far. i.e. The Steve Bartman Incident. The abuse he endured was unacceptable. Sure, I wanted to ring his neck like the rest of them, but that feeling eventually went away… after a few years (no really, I’m not bitter).

So here’s the issue – no matter how die-hard you adore whatever it is you adore, there are boundaries, but where is that line? Social media has allowed us to band together more easily. No more waiting for tailgates or water cooler moments with our nearest and dearest to share our excitement. Just last night I was following the Cubs versus Dodgers NCLS Game 5 on my Twitter feed and though I couldn’t be at the game, the interactions online made me feel like I was still a part of things. I could share similar sentiments with fans 3000 miles away, and when the Cubs clinched the win, I was jumping up in down along with every other Cubbies lover there is. It was glorious.

However, social media is a fickle thing and a double edged sword. Though it’s expanded our connections beyond our backyard, it’s also taken those (sometimes quite volatile and inappropriate) conversations, once limited to your best friends or close colleagues, and allowed those thoughts to be plastered across the web for anyone to see.

I’m all for being honest, but there is such a thing as being polite. There’s decorum. There’s a general respect we should have for one another that seemingly disintegrates online. My timeline was imploding over rumors about a storyline that may or may not happen on my current favorite show (Arrow). Did Ithe rumors excite me? No. Is that how I want my favorite story to be told? No. However, I am a fan, so I won’t just give up on it. At the end of the day, that show has endeared itself to me and has me wanting the best for it and those that make it happen. That said, I’ve witnessed “fans” taking to their keyboards demanding resignations from the writers, calling for boycotts of the show, threatening the producers, applauding lower ratings and essentially giving the fandom a bad name. Remember how I said fandom is like family? Well these “fans” are like the red-headed step children in revolt. One of my biggest pet peeves is a vocal minority presumptively speaking for the whole.

Those “fans” aren’t fans in my eyes. I wouldn’t consider them pink hats, either. Take it from someone who’s team hasn’t won a World Series in 108 years … patience is a virtue. Sometimes you just have to have faith. It can’t always be pennant wins and rainbows. Sometimes it’s sucking it up for the love of the game and holding out hope that the best is yet to come. Did I want to cry in a corner when Joey was with Dawson instead of Pacey? YES. Was I disappointed Mad Men never killed Betty? YES. Do I want to pull my hair out every time Michigan loses to Ohio State? YES. But such is fan life, right? It’s not taking the smack talk I shared with my bestie over beers and publicly ridiculing those that I claim to love with it. Some conversations should be kept behind closed doors. You’re in it for the long haul or you’re not. That’s what being a real fan should be. Just because there’s a platform which allows easy engagement, doesn’t mean you should always engage. Sure, knee-jerk reactions come with the territory, but hurling insults at your favorites and decreeing “being done” isn’t. Don’t kill the fandom vibe by being the drunk idiot uncle everyone hates. Walk away. It’s ok, though I can’t say you’ll be missed.


Arrow Versus Gold Rush

If you do not watch Arrow or Gold Rush, this may not be the post for you. You’ve been warned…

Those who know me well know I am a HUGE Arrow fan. I binged the first two seasons just prior to the season 3 opener and I was SO hooked. It was the type of show I’d been missing from my television lineup.  I was never a comic book girl, but I’ve thoroughly enjoyed every Michael Keaton and Christian Bale iteration of Batman that’s been produced. I still think Gene Hackman’s Lex Luthor is probably THE BEST comic book villain portrayed in a theatrical release EVER.  And I always look forward to whatever DC or Marvel creation is being brought to the big screen next. So though I wasn’t necessarily familiar with the story of The Green Arrow, the show had me intrigued and my appreciation has just continued to grow to epic proportions ever since.

Clifford can’t stand it. Every time I have Arrow, The Flash, Legends of Tomorrow or Supergirl on (yeah, Greg Berlanti pretty much owns my eyeballs Monday through Thursday), Clifford rolls his eyes and starts to moan. No matter how amazing the episode, how action packed, how captivating the storyline, he scoffs and pokes fun and does this irritatingly asinine commentary for the duration of the show. The man likes Batman, Spiderman and any one of the The Avengers films or their characters’ stand-alones he’s seen, so I don’t get it. Of course he didn’t like Affleck’s Daredevil, but then who did? It’s not like he doesn’t like those types of stories or that sort of action. Here is Clifford’s argument summed up in four words – it’s all the same.

He wanted to offer an argument, so I offered mine in return.

He thinks that every episode that airs is the same old same old and he can’t watch. Too boring and too terrible. Here’s the rub – Clifford’s favorite show (next to Modern Marvels) is Gold Rush. IF EVER THERE WAS A SHOW ABOUT THE SAME OLD SAME OLD IT IS THAT ONE RIGHT THERE. Don’t get me wrong, I can watch and enjoy Parker’s struggles and Tony Beets’s gruff attitude as much as the next guy. I am more than happy to watch Todd Hoffman’s inevitably stupid next move, but if we want to compare apples to apples (as in same old same old) let’s look at the facts here.

I watch a show about a hero’s journey. I am watching the story of a rich playboy idiot child on his way to becoming a beloved superhero man. There is ever growing character development, ever evolving plots, and an ever expanding universe. I am a spoiler fiend and yet I still sit on the edge of my seat wondering how a character is going to react to the latest curve ball coming their way.  What will Oliver Queen or his team do? What villain’s throwing his hat in the ring? Who will come back from the dead? What wrench will be tossed in to shake things up? Where are they going with any of this? And why isn’t John Barrowman gracing my screen more? These are things that keep me invested. These are the things that keep the show fresh and different and compelling week to week.

Now let’s take a gander at Gold Rush. Even if you are invested in the characters, the only curve ball they’re thrown is what piece of rusted old equipment is going to break down next. That is the only question. Oh, and maybe what super moronic decision Todd Hoffman’s making after that.

Let’s talk character development first. In what, 5 or 6 seasons?  I haven’t seen an ounce of growth in Todd Hoffman at all. And even though I readily admit, Oliver Queen often takes many steps back from that latest step forward, he’s gone from a serial killer in the first season to running for mayor of the freaking city! That’s something. That’s momentum. That’s progress. Todd Hoffman made poor life and rather arrogant choices from the beginning and those choices only seem to become poorer and more arrogant as the seasons continue. Gene switched teams, but is that progress? Parker has gotten taller. I suppose that counts for character growth even if it’s the more physical variety. After six years, each of Clifford’s little gold miners seems the same. The fight scenes, which tend to spur growth in any character in some way shape form or another, are just that, grown men yelling at each other and getting pissed off and walking away – a fight, sort of like what teenage girls do in middle school. No hand to hand combat, parkouring, swordsmanship or special powers to unfold anywhere on screen (though even in a middle school girl fight, there might be at least some hair being pulled).  Nope. Just some miners’ egos getting in the way of the job leading to brief heated confrontations, and ending in public complaints on camera.

Now about plots … saying your goal is to bring in more gold than the previous season does not an ever evolving plot bunny make. In fact, it is the EXACT SAME PLOT year in and year out. There is no uniqueness to it. And the only thing keeping you on the edge of your seat is whether or not the excavator or the dredge is giving way this episode causing all the mining to come to an abrupt and utter halt. Seriously. Thanks to the dramatic score, there’s your tension. And like the Titanic sinking at the end of the film, it is never a surprise ending.

And let’s address an ever expanding universe. Todd Hoffman’s self-inflicted fiasco in South America doesn’t count.  In Alaska. Always in Alaska mining this creek or that.

I will say, like my thoughts on more Barrowman, I’ll take more of John Schnabel any day. I LOVE that man.

In breaking it down, there is no contest in my mind which is the more interesting, dramatic, action-packed, ever changing story unfolding before me. I’ve tried repeatedly to explain these points to Clifford; I try to make my argument so he’ll see these things and maybe give Arrow a chance.

Then he dropped the why I will never get through to him on this.

“Here’s what it is – I could watch a channel that did nothing but show machines working and moving all day long. No people. Just watching machines doing their thing. Hauling dirt, drilling shit, grading sites, whatever. All day long. Every day. That’s my dream TV.”



I can’t argue with that. Like I can pretty much argue with anything, but I can’t with that.

I've got nothing.

I’ve got nothing.

But Arrow still wins. Every. Time.


Drunk Texting My Best Friend

Drunk texted Chelle on a random Wednesday evening. Ok, maybe not so random.  It was the Arrow Season 3 Finale and I got a little excited and then it hit me exactly how excited I was and I needed to share it with my friend … Hey now, if you can’t drunk text your bestie during a killer season finale, then who can you drunk text?



My Husband & Chris Pratt’s Abs

Clifford and I struck an accord this December. He wants to grow a beard. I like clean-cut. Maybe clean-cut with a bit of scruff, but he wants a full-on-lumberjack-not-quite-ZZ-Top-looking beard.


Anyway, I know beards are trending right now, particularly thanks to hipster types that are into those special beard oils and overpriced maintenance kits. Heck, Wil Wheaton shared a blog post about the year of the beard just yesterday. It’s a thing. I get it. Still not my thing.

So when Clifford came to me and told me he was going balls to the walls with it, I laughed. I rolled my eyes. I said, “I don’t think so.”

But he was set on growing a beard. It was his dream. A dream I had prevented from happening for over nine years. We had finally hit our impasse. Well, when at an impasse, no time like the present to negotiate. And negotiate terms I did.

I had two:

  1. Six months. He would have until June 15th, 2015 to grow his beard. At that time we would reassess his poor decision.
  2. He has to have a six pack (and I’m not talking beer here, folks)

See, the way I see it is that if I have to stare at that hideous monstrosity day in and day out hiding the face with which I fell in love, it’s only fair that something just as lovely is substituted in return to refocus my attentions elsewhere. A six pack is a worthy substitution.

So on June 15th, if he likes the beard, AND he has a six pack, the beard stays. Otherwise, that thing is coming off faster than a prom dress with much less sentimental attachment in its wake.

I felt my husband needed some inspiration for his journey. Gaining a six pack is no easy feat. He’s no longer what you might call a spring chicken, but he’s still only 34. Six months of hard work is doable. I needed to show him some other guys in their 30s who took it and ran with it so he could understand the possibilities. I wanted him to see exactly how I wanted him to look what he could look like with some hard work and dedication.

Enter Chris Pratt (well, and Stephen Amell). Just as women everywhere have their little boards of inspiration, I thought Clifford could use one, too. After all, sometimes telling someone isn’t the same as showing them what you mean. So I sent him these.

A beard like this is great.

A beard like this would be great.

A beard like this would be absolutely acceptable.

A beard like this would be absolutely acceptable.

Abs like this is what I mean.

Abs like this is what I mean.

Clifford could SO make this happen.

Clifford could SO make this happen.

He pretty much laughed in my face, “whatever’d” me, and kept on growing his beard.

It’s been about a month since we made our deal, so I thought it was time for a quick check-in the other day. Maybe a few motivational words to keep Clifford going.   I sent him this.

A little motivational check-in.

What better motivation than Chris Pratt’s abs?   Then I received an immediate cease and desist request. I believe the words he texted were: Stop sending me these pics. Don’t need the guys on the job seeing me open pics of half-naked dudes. So stop.

The text was followed by a phone call. Clifford said he was with his contractor and his client showing them pictures of samples on his phone when all of a sudden Chris Pratt showed up in all his glory. And he didn’t show up on the phone like he does in the aforementioned text message. He showed up like this.

Clifford could SO make this happen.

Clifford said the contractor and client both looked at him, then at each other, then to Chris Pratt’s abs, then they looked  anywhere but at Clifford and Chris Pratt’s abs. No one said a word and Clifford went back to showing samples.

Needless to say, he was not as pleased with Chris Pratt’s motivational abs as I’d hoped he’d be (never thought I’d write a sentence like that… hmmm).

Regardless, it’s on. The Great Beard/Ab Compromise of 2015. A thank you in advance to Chris Pratt and Stephen Amell for unknowingly offering your bodies yourselves as stimulus on Clifford’s quest to meeting my conditions.

It all comes down to June 15th, folks. Stay tuned.


Arrow- A Show You Should Be Watching

I am an Arrow fan. Like I’m becoming a huge Arrow fan. I’d had it in my Netlfix queue for a while, meaning to check it out for months. I actually thought it’d be one of those guy-centric action shows that sure, I’d enjoy, but I wouldn’t exactly have to DVR it either. Which I don’t mind, hell, I loved The Avengers as much as the next fan, but devote my time to yet another series that’s seems geared toward a different demographic? Meh, I don’t know… Well, now I know. And I am definitely part of the demographic.  Continue reading