Happy Free Comic Book Day!
For those of you who aren’t into the “comic book scene” (and why aren’t you, is what I want to know), Free Comic Book Day (FCBD) is a magical time of the year, a “Nerd Christmas”, so to speak. FCBD is the first Saturday in May (the same day as the Kentucky Derby for you more “civilized folk”. (I still fail to see how horse racing is civilized. (Oh nifty, nested parentheticals.))) and is treated, well, pretty much like Christmas, really, except instead of Santa Claus bringing you shit you actually have to go get it yourself (boooo).
Each store treats FCBD in a different way. Some treat it like a big party. Others see it as an opportunity to bring new customers into the fold. And yet others see it as another day at the office.
The unfortunate side effect of going to a large comic book chain is that they tend to fall into the third group. No pomp and circumstance (except for the guy standing at the corner with a big yellow “FREE COMIC BOOKS” sign), and a five-free-book limit, which sucks because I saw seven that I would have liked to bring home. Do other comic book stores have a limit to how many free goodies you can take home? Because I know I’ve been to stores that are like, “Take whatever you want,” and that’s rad. Luckily, Knize and I were able to team up and get all the good books.
Here’s my free book haul:
On top of the free books, I had about… oh… two months worth of single issues in my subscription box. It wasn’t very pretty.
The receipt impressed me with its sheer length (that’s what she said). Like a psycho, I whipped it out (again, she said) and exclaimed:
Fuck you, Kick-Ass 2, for being $4.99.
Sorry, but $5 for a 24-page issue (and the last seven pages are ads and a comic short I don’t care about) is excessive. Kick-Ass 2 is likely to get dropped from my subscription for being a kickasshole with its pricing. (TMNT gets a pass for being $7.99 because it’s 100 pages long. And fucking awesome.)
Talking with my mom about Free Comic Book Day, she asked why I read comics. It’s not something that I grew up with. It’s a hobby that I’ve recently (about two years ago) fallen into.
Me: I love reading. I don’t just read comics, I also read novels, non-fiction… I’d rather read than watch TV.
Mom: That’s the way you’ve always been.
It’s true. Nothing can put me in a coma faster than a horribly scripted sitcom or a brain-numbing reality show. (Except for Toddlers and Tiaras. And My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding. There’s something about rhinestone-clad trash that is like crack to my Disney-princess-soaked brain cells.) As a kid, Reading Rainbow was my show. I do see the irony in watching a TV show about books instead of actually reading books, but there’s only so much an eight-year-old can read in a year. Reading Rainbow was like visual Cliff’s Notes featuring the dulcet tones of one of Starfleet’s finest engineers. HOW COULD YOU NOT LOVE IT?
I also am a professional writer and I have a degree in art, so it shouldn’t be too far-fetched that I like comic books, right? At least, that’s what I tell myself when I start feeling like the female version of Comic Book Guy.
PS: I totally forgot that today was Cinco de Mayo. Probably because I’m not a drunk.
PPS: I lied. I totally am a drunk. But I’m drinking wine. From California. Like an American.
PPPS: Happy Cinco de Wino.