Right.
So, I'm totally superhero-ized and it's not even summer yet. I was John Carter'ed a week ago.
And now I've been Avenger'ed. Avenged.
Art by: Betotegrandote
Hmm. Or Robert Downey Jr.'ed. Who, frankly, is the best superhero out there. Plus Chris Hemsworth's chest. That too. *I am happily married I am happily married lalalala*
I must say that after watching Scar.Jo (Scarlett Johansson to you. She and I are on a nick-fusion-name basis. Yep. She totally calls me J'Mil. Sometimes Jan.Mi. And once, after we'd both had too much lemonade, Herkimer. But I don't like to talk about that.)–anyway, after watching Miss Blackwidow-kick-booty-Russian-With-No-Accent-spy-woman totally flip out in her tight black leather and get the intellectual best of the evil Loki, I've decided that I need superhero powers.
So, I'm going to get some.
Or, at least, I'll spread the word that I have some. Then, like, all the baddies in the world will be shaking in their evil-steel-toed-and-many-buckled boots and they won't EVER mess with me or my kids. And my husband will brag on me and tell his radio-geek-runner-buddies to watch out for ME, MAN.
The only question then is who am I? What do I do? This will take some thought.
I KNOW! I shall be MENOPAUSE MATRON!! (dun! dun! dunnnn!!) Ne'er-do-wells watch out for the MENO-TRON and her super flying HOT FLASH! Get in the way of that baby and wuhBAM! You won't know what hit you. You'll be a deathMelt whimpering on the floor. And I'll clean you up with my ULTRA HORMONE-HOSE!
Or
Perhaps: THE DESSERTER! (nom! nom! nom!) (what. that's what my power sounds like.) Duck, tyrannical tyrants! For I shall pummel you with my COOKIES-ARE-LOVE-BOMB! Which will riddle you with guilt! And if that doesn't stop you then brace yourself for the MOLTEN-CHOCOLATE-LAVA-CAKE-INATOR which will settle around your thighs and never leave. No matter how much you run or restrict your sugar intake! Which you won't be able to do because of my SUPER-SIZED-COLA-GLOBULE-OF-DEATH! MWAH!
Or
Maybe: THE HYPHENATOR! With which superpowers I shall decimate-evil-blogposts by hy-phen-at-ing- the liv-in-g short-cake out-of-them. Wait! It's-becoming-un-stab-le! I can-'t c-on-t-r-o-l it! HEL-P -M-E-E-E-E! HE- l-p -p -p -p -a-a-a-a-a-ah-h-h-h!! – – – –
Dang.
Now the world is undefended.
I hate it when that happens.
I’m all over the hot flash one.
Dude. We TOTALLY need a menopausal superhero. SuperHe-ress.
“Herkimer”? HAHAHA! I wish I could wield a chair the way Scar Jo does. Can I call you Herkimer from now on?
Hmmm. Alright. You may call me Herkimer. BUT ONLY YOU AND SCAR.JO.
(FYI, “Herkimer” is a name I gave to one of my son’s friends when they were in Junior High. I gave them both goofy names. They were “Herkimer” and “Berfert”. “Herk” and “Berf” if I was in a hurry.
Which, now that I think of it, sounds like they have the stomach flu. Herk and Berf.