Jeremy still won't let me in his apartment. I tried to reason with him, helpfully pointing out that he'd acted like a hysterical sissy-mary but for some bizarre, unknown reason this actually made him angrier. He said the problem was I was "inconsiderate" and had "a vicious tongue" and that I "never pay anything towards rent" and that I "eat all [his] food." At that last accusation I stuck my finger through the narrowly open door and poked him in the belly and with my most charming smile, said "We both know that one's a baldfaced lie, Bouncing Boy!" But Jeremy wasn't having any and maybe I shouldn't have used the word "baldfaced" on account of Jeremy's hairline. Then Jeremy said I should give him "some kind of warning" when I'm "going at some guy on [his] bed" so he doesn't just walk in on us after "a hard day at work" and that maybe I should try covering the bed with "towels." And I said, "What, am I living in Iran all of a sudden?" and that's when he started to close the door in my face. "Wait, wait!" I pleaded. "Can I have my shaving kit?" (which is technically a steamer trunk filled with various moisturizers and exfoliants) and he said he'd already thrown it out! Holy balls! The door closed. "Can I at least borrow some more comic books?" I shouted. From behind the door I could hear him say, wearily, "I'll think about it."
For now, I still have his copy of "Wonder Woman Annual" #5 (1996). It'll do. Let's take a gander at the book's heroine: a futuristic, noncommitally Native American-esque lass living on one of those ancient spaceship worlds that use to be all the rage. You know the kind -- the original passengers are long dead, and their descendants have no idea they're on a spaceship anymore? Blech. That nonsense is so 2660's.
Her name is AlyXa, and she dresses like a slut. But her hair and jewelry are to die for.
Anatomical abnormalities aside, isn't she the cutest thing? I wish I'd seen this ensemble back when I was in my Space Goth phase. I would have been simply dripping with handmade bangles and clasps and clusters of dangly earrings and shit. Oh well.
It's just too bad about her outfit. Slutty? Oh, just a tad. But the bigger crime in my eyes is that it's so damned impractical. There's so little material, and it's all fastened together so tenuously, it's not worth the trouble of putting it on. One strong gust from an air duct and WHAM! It gets knocked right off. And the cut of that skirt... yikes. It makes the current Supergirl look positively Victorian.
The guys on the ship don't wear much either but at least they have an excuse: they're hot! Well, besides that, they're warriors. So they dress kind of like gladiators in a "Mad Max" kind of way, with copious doses of "New York art student" and just a dash of Glam Rock.
By the way, have you guessed who the penciler is? No? Here's a helpful clue:
But never mind all that now. I've found a new boyfriend! Not that he knows it yet. Check him out, yo.
Not that he spends all his time brooding, mind you.
Okay, now let's skip through all the blah-blah-blah in the middle of the comic and get to the end, where AlyXa mediates a conflict between ValXan's rugged band and the grotesquely-mutated humans who also live on that ginormous spaceship.
Aw, ValXan! Even humiliated, you're a cutie-pie! (And that's an important qualification in my boyfriends, believe you me.)