No ducking clue what to give your friends?

Christmas is the season that divides the world into two categories:
1. people that know what to get their friends, and
2. people who spend the morning staring at rubber ducks.

I am now both. Here’s what I have gleaned from my internet voyage:

Yes, ducks are a little baffling to give anyone over the age of 5.

But they’re also perfect for some Very Specific Friends almost every group  has.

1. The poop emoji friend. Everyone has a bud who likes to talk about their… output. Or they’re constantly ducking out of things because their tract is at it again. Give those open books some poop ducks.

2. The pointedly anti-establishment friend. Rubber duckies tend to have a shape and size. A convention, if you will. Give your fun-loving, free-spirit, Zooey-Deschanel friend some odd ducks. The one who fancies himself a sleek intellectual would probably prefer the Kid O Floating duck.

3. The friend who gives you medical advice without any qualifications to do so. Expand on all their fake knowledge with an anatomical duck.

4. The friend who you think might have voted for Trump. Everyone has one. Let them know you may one day forgive them with a Make Bathtime Great Again duck.

5. The friend who’s religious. Throw ’em a bone. Let them celebrate the True Reason For The Season with a religious duck. I like the Moses duck.

6. Your least klutzy friend. Some people don’t live in fear of stairs, heels, uneven sidewalks, or dropped banana peels. Those people are living their best lives. Get them a Swarovski Punk Duck.


Five Fandom Friday: Fiendish, freakish, frightening, futuristic, and/or fantastical Funko figurines.

Am I posting my Five Fandom Friday on the wrong day — or are you  too confined by society’s strictures of time and space?

Think outside the box.

Then get back inside the box, because this week’s theme is Funko Toys. (They come in boxes.)

For those of you who don’t know (hi, Mom), Funko’s a company that makes pop culture collectibles. I own a bunch (sorry, Mom). Here are my five favorites!


This screwed-up Joker/Batman thing (LootCrate exclusive). I have this and a Domo Batman but no actual real Batman. And I love Batman, even though the vlogbrothers don’t.


Bloody Hannibal (ComicCon exclusive). He is the most sharply-dressed villain of all time. Down to the pocket square.

Fat Legs, Vicious Lovebirds, and Drowning Mermaids: 8 True Facts About My Youth

I am not making any of this up.


“When I grow up, I want to be a cheerleader,” a girl in my kindergarten said.

“Me, too!” I chimed.

“With those legs?” she asked.


When I was little, I’d put my legs together to form a “fin” and practice “swimming like a mermaid” across the pool. It wasn’t an efficient water traversing method.


My aunt & uncle left the electric fence around their sheep enclosure on when we were visiting. I climbed on it. I later asked why the fence “felt funny” and everyone panicked.

An Open Letter to FunKo

Dear FunKo,

I’ve recently discovered your designer toys of comic book, movie, TV, and Disney characters.

I adore them — but there’s a hole in my heart.


Dare I say… a white hole?

The type that the characters of Space Cases go through in Episode 1?


I’m going to go ahead and put this out there…


… I would pay a lot of money for Space Cases figurines.

A lot.

This could be a very lucrative opportunity.

Thanks for your consideration.

Leah / Super Starling!

Fine. I’ll replace everything I own. I didn’t need money, anyway.

My panda phone case started to smell like a decomposing, septic onion fart last week.

I tried various methods of cleaning it, to no avail. I had to say goodbye.


After I drew this tribute, my friend’s 4-year-old asked if I’d buried the phone case in the backyard. Kids are hilarious.

Then my 8-year-old computer and I had this conversation.

Trusty, ancient computer: “My wifi is going to fluke out all the time.”
Me: “I still love you.”
Trusty, ancient computer: “I’m going to slow down considerably.”
Me: “I still love you.”
Trusty, ancient computer: “I’m going to stop running Photoshop.”
Me: “I still love you.”
Trusty, ancient computer: “I’m going to stop running Illustrator, too.”
Me: “Okay, fuck this.”


There’s only so long I can be in an abusive, Edward-Cullen-style relationship with my laptop.

I buckled under and got a new one.

Pictured above is my data being transferred into the new one.

This is how Skynet started, and why humanity can’t have nice things.