My 2-D Redheaded Heroes

Everything they say about redheads is true.

Buying Boba and Optimus Prime

Cashiers make awkward conversation with girls who are excited to a point of hushed awe when buying these...                                                                                                                                                                              

 On the brightside, I did get to introduce myself as a comic book writer today. 

Which was so fun I now want to be the sort of douchebag that carries business cards with sample art on the back. I am a silly bitch.

Anatomy of a PWN-Up Girrl

It's in the eyes.  There is a fine line between asking for approval and telling the world that you aren't ashamed of your sexuality.

It's the willingness to make out for an hour and call it a night. 

It's the, "I know," after an, "I love you."  It's the courage to wipe yourself clean of pointless encrustments of femininity but occasionally wear them like camouflage.  We don't blend in, we stun. It's the playfulness and the shy cockiness that makes small wins look big, big wins look easy, but also makes beating you sort of make you smile.  It's Leia's thermal detonator.  It's a secret hope for zombies. It's Ripley's scream, Zoe's belt, Juno's tears, Vesper's last breath, Cortana's digital sneeze, Mrs. Smith's red boots, Sway's blone dreadlocks, Inara's tea, Kaylee's gut wound, and the smirk of Sarge from Cleopatra 2525 (that silly, silly bitch). It's spicket24's magnificent bastardry.  It's Dita Von Digital.  It's Olga Kay's juglling balls.  It's Prioretti's broken arm. It's Xtina Pagel's listening faces. It's growing out of self-doubt, and laughing freely at yourself.   It's Molly Weasley killing Bellatrix LeStrange. It's Ginny Fucking Weasley playing Quidditch and kissing all the boys, but ready to defend her OWN honor when her brother insinuated sluttishness. 

It's for the girls who tell me "Slander & Lies" changed their lives.  It's for the girls who need a "Toby Turner Sux" to remind that it's okay to laugh it off when a guy doesn't follow the imaginary script you had written for him in your head full of fantasies.  

She says, "The World as we know it is coming to an end one way or another.  Between the environment, the weapons, the money and the religion.  Yellowstone could explode and California could be swallowed by epic waters. I'll either be in the front row watching or the front lines with a rocket launcher.  But regardless of how long or short my personal era is, I will love the people in it as fiercely as I love myself. Sometimes I do it in quiet ways, and sometimes I lead with eccentric whims.  I own all of my own panties. And she says to children, "You make me proud everyday, and I will protect you but I will trust you enough to not lie to you about life's challenges when you ask."  She has a pact with friends that if she becomes a zombie she'd like to be taken out with a dignified single bullet to the head. It's laughing like a dorky little kid when you light fireworks from a tube taped to a stick/watch action movie previews/walk into a screen door/at, "That's what she said" and Uranus. 

It is writing your own manifesto.  It is accepting that whatever you love, others will have loved before you and will love after you die.  It's being quietly generous with knowledge and passion. It's, "NEXT!" It's the life-saving sarcasm of Pepper Potts.  It's Your Face and Your Mom.

So then, ladies... a mantra:

I AM VAST. AND I CONTAIN MULTITUDES. I respect my own power and the responsibilities they require. I do not compete with other beautiful women. I celebrate them, because loving beauty makes it easy to see that it is everywhere.  Beauty is found in the dichotomies. 

<3

Let's go ladies. Tonight I just wanna dance.  No guys.  I just want to stand in a circle around our shoes and hand bags and dance.  But if we make out, I'm not calling you in the morning.  I'll be too busy pwning "Freebird" on Expert with my eyes closed and my heart proud.

Note to self: GO stock up on discount fireworks.