comic rant

my weight is up and i am not happy.

they killed off johnny storm, the human torch. you know, fantastic four. the nytimes wrote an article about it. is it stupid and pretentious to hate that comics are getting like 23492305982049582495 times more exposure than they ever did, yet im still called a nerd when people see me reading them? whats worse, i don't want to bond with other comic readers.
i do not want to talk to you about whose side i was on in civil war, or what the april 2011 cover of uncanny x-men with cyclops dressed up as magneto will mean. you see, i truly believe your only mission in talking to me about it is it gives you the opportunity to go home and tell your dude-bros that you talked to a hot chick today at the burrito joint about comics for like an hour and man she was like totally smokin and had this awesome x-men tattoo and big boobs and a septum piercing and she knew what she was talking about and stuff man it was just so AWESOME, and still have some iota of truth to it. yeah im not going to give you that pleasure. instead i will squint my eyes and look right through you to the flashing open side on the front window opposite the cash register. i will pray that time will speed up, i will think about waxing my bikini line or maybe cleaning the grout in my bathroom, i will hope that that you will get the picture and not talk to me about comics, or anything really, because i read comics for my own pleasure, not yours or anyone elses, and i am not in the habit of talking about things that pleasure me so openly, at my job, and to pimply faced 19 year olds. i simply cannot be bothered with those things. its not that im not nice. im really nice, like super nice. i will put extra queso on your nachos and do my best to stop the cook for bitching too loudly about your execedingly annoying and complicated order (i only want the lettuce and onions if they are sauteed with the tomatoes and mild sauce on the side but hot sauce on it and only one ladle of queso please i am on a diet haw haw haw) and i will smile brightly and sweetly and talk about the weather and yes my septum piercing hurt and yes i have been working here a while and no you cannot have my name but i need yours for the order.
i am nice because i need the tips.
so does the cook.
but i wont go so far as to indulge your sick and twisted and probably juvenile and stereotypical nerd-tastic fantasy of bonding with and eventually fucking the hot chick comic-reader. i am not megan fox. i dont brag about reading comics. i rant about people that think its this big deal that i read them. or read anything at all, really. i don't ask you about your tattoos, or piercings, or car, or life, or your mom or your job or hair or major. i dont even talk to you. so why, then, do you feel the need to pry into my life? furthermore, what the FUCK about me gave you the idea i would share with you? the fact that i am human and that ultimately dictates some level of courtesy? of course, you are right. but if you read comics at all, you will see emma frost in my eyes and leave me the fuck alone, please, unless you shoot lasers out of your eyes, are devastatingly handsome yet cripplingly insecure, and are named scott summers.