The Great Debate.

If a tree falls in the forest and there is no one there to hear it, does it make a sound? Why are we here? What is the sound of one hand clapping? When a cow laughs, does milk come out of its nose? Why do men have nipples? To be or not to be? So many questions have gone unanswered since the dawn of time and we, as a society, have accepted that. But today, I am brave enough to answer a question that has been plaguing man for centuries. Today, I will answer the question: Batman or Superman?

Though the answer is blatantly obvious (BATMAN) to approximately 95.49% of the world, there is still that radical thinking 4.51% that think Superman is better than Batman. I believe those people are terrorists and/or tree hugging hippies with no souls and no real grips on reality. Anyone who knows anything about anything knows that Batman is better than Superman in every single way. It is basically common sense.

Arguably the most obvious reason as to why Batman is superior to Superman has to be the fact that Batman is not weakened/scared of kryptonite. In other words, this so-called "Man of Steel" is scared of a frigging glowing rock since it completely makes him lose his powers. Contrary to popular belief, big muscles do not always signify brute strength. Case-in-point: Superman. This waste of space is cut like a body builder and yet cannot even through a decent punch when kryptonite is in his presence.

You know what Batman is scared of? NOTHING. He conquered his fear of bats and accepted it as a part of him thus making him the man he is today. That means that the Dark Knight actually is fearless and in fact, uses fear as a tactic against the villains of Gotham City. It also means that Batman could literally put on a kryptonite ring and beat Superman's ass and he couldn't even do anything about it.

For some reason, the retard fans of Superman have even gone so far as to compare him to Jesus Christ. I mean, I guess if krypontonite wasn't within a 5 mile radius, you could say that Superman is technically invincible. But just because he is invincible, it doesn't, I don't know make him the Messiah. Now, I'm not going to push religion in anyway to anyone, but I'm going to go ahead and call shenanigans on this one. Not only is this comparison sacrilegious and blasphemy, everyone knows Superman's dad was some scientist on Krypton. This may be presumptuous, but last time I checked, Jesus' dad, this guy called, God, wasn't some scientist on some random planet.

Also, I don't know if many people know this, but technically Superman is from outer space which would technically make him an alien. If you have seen such films as: Signs, Independence Day, any of the Aliens movies or even Mars Attacks, you will know that it is a fact that aliens are our enemies. By nature, us humans do not like anything we do not know. With that said, why the f do we let Superman even exist? We should have nuked him by now with some sort of kryptonite missile or something. The guy does more damage than anything else--tearing up the street with his laser vision and throwing trucks everywhere. I'm pretty sure that the taxes in Metropolis are through the roof.

And since Superman is an alien, who is he to push these unattainable moral standards on us? What? Does he think he's better than us. This a-hole is walking around like he's more moral and just than all of us and sticking his nose up in the air like his shit don't stink. This just in, Superman, you're not even a natural born citizen of the planet, let alone America. P.S. You have an illegitimate son with Lois Lane and you don't even pay child support or have custody. How do say "dead beat dad" in your alien tongue?

On the other hand, there is Batman, who is human, not an alien from outer space, like the rest of us. Sure, he's got his weaknesses (i.e. being mortal), but the symbol of what he stands for and the legacy he leaves behind will be known forever. He doesn't push his beliefs on us like Superman nor does he walk around like he is better than us because he is one of us. Batman gets us and stands up for what we as whole believe in. Plus, he doesn't have any illegitimate children, and if he did, he would set them up for life.

Besides, assuming that he is going to go ahead and become this upright citizen, Superman has no reason to even become a superhero. If you were an alien wouldn't you want to keep a low profile and try to fit in? You would just want to go day-to-day minding your business and making sure you weren't any different than anyone else, right? No. Not Superman. He's all, Oh, look at me. I can fly out of the Earth's atmosphere and not explode without any oxygen because I don't necessarily need it to live. I mean, get a grip, man. No one likes a show off.

Superman never even knew what it was like to experience something unjust. He is just a big know-it-all who wants to butt in and have his way even though he has no strategy either. It's always his way or the highway. Oh, there's a bank being robbed? No need for police to ensure the safety of everyone involved. Superman can just lift the entire building and throw it into the ocean. No big. What an ass!?

Batman became Batman because he has experienced injustice first hand and wanted to take justice into his own hands for the sake of not only himself, but the citizens of Gotham City. For Christ's sake, his parents were murdered in an alley in front of him. Sure, Superman's parents were killed too, but that was a freak meteor shower-type accident. Plus, he barely remembers because he was a baby. Batman's parents were shot before his very eyes as a child, so he is traumatized for life.

Unlike Superman, Batman traveled and trained diligently to be able to control his anger and to strategize a plan to take down injustice. He did the rational thing and really thought everything out before he did anything crazy. Batman would never just throw a bank into the ocean or anything stupid like that. The man tactfully captures the bad guys, sometimes hurts them badly, but never kills them, and leaves them for the proper authorities to find. Classy.

Not only is Batman better than Superman when it comes to alter egos...period. Bruce Wayne is hands down better than Clark Kent. Why? Bruce Wayne is a multi-billionaire with his own company. He is suave, classy, and he's got Alfred as a butler and Morgan Freeman as his tech guy! Ladies love him, girls adore him--even the one's that never saw him. Also, he is fun. There's always an event Brucey Boy's got to attend or there is a shindig at Wayne Manor.

What does Clark Kent have? I'll tell you-- glasses, a super cut, and a crappy job as a reporter for The Daily Planet. Bruce Wayne could easily buy The Daily Planet and do whatever he wanted with it. Clark Kent can't even afford a closet to hang his lame costume in AND has to change in a telephone booth because there is no such thing as indecent exposure on Krypton and no room in his crappy little apartment. You know where Bruce changes into his cool costume? The mother f-ing Bat Cave which is found underneath his huge mansion, that's where. Chew on that Superman.

Also, I know that Batman has a mask, so I get that no one even knows that he is Bruce Wayne. Then there is Superman who doesn't have a mask, but still no one knows who he is because Clark Kent's eyeglasses alter his face somehow? Oh yeah, eyeglasses don't alter your face. They help improve eyesight, but they don't make it so no one knows who you are when you wear them. That's right. So this has to mean that the people of Metropolis are retarded. I mean, really? They can't tell the difference between a guy with glasses and same guy without them? I bet the people of Gotham have to think they are dense. I bet it's some alien voodoo he does.

AHH! This subject matter gets me so riled up. Nothing makes me more mad than Superdouche. (Write that down.) Anyways, I hope that I made it clear to any doubters-- BATMAN IS AND WILL ALWAYS BE BETTER THAN SUPERMAN. If you're not convinced, I will punch you in your liver until you throw up your spleen and you'll see how super you are, man.

M-I-C-K-E-Y Please Give Me a Job

Fame.

Fortune.

Power.

Underlings.

Who doesn't want that? If you say that you want none of the above, you are lying to yourself. Like most people, I've had a hand in my fair share of get-rich-quick schemes (buying and selling of rare beanie babies, selling human body parts on the black market, drug human trafficking, leaking celebrity sex tapes, etc), but I think it's time for me to take this to a whole new level. I want to be legit. Nay, I want to be too legit... too legit to quit as some would say. My name in lights, my face on the cover of magazines, my own clothing line at Wal-Mart Target, my own show which will eventually lead to a multimillion dollar movie/record deal, little 10-year-old girls to do my bidding---I want it all, baby. That's right kids, mama wants to be the next Disney superstar.

The kids upcoming talent that have associated themselves with Disney have had longevity in their careers and have a better crossover success rate when they move into their adult careers. Anybody who is relevant right this second probably has a tie to The Mouse. Well, at least 97% of anybody who is relevant.

Former Mouseketeer, Justin Timberlake is basically the King of Pop (That's right I said it. Back up, Kanye, you rap and do the hip hop. Leave the catchy songs and flashy dancing to JT.) Remember when you saw Disturbia and it was awkward when you started to find Shia "French for The Beef" LaBeouf attractive? That's probably because you kept thinking about how you wanted to make out with Louis Stevens and that's gross. From what I understand, Lindsay Lohan is doing...stuff... I guess. Miss Britney Spears made her come back. And you know that Zac Efron has taken over your home and your heart. (Advice: Watch 17 Again and thank me in the morning.) Other Disney alum include: JC Chasez, Keri Russell, The Duff, Miley, Ryan Gosling--the list goes on and on. Point is they all got their start on Disney and made it big. And yes, ABDC is a big deal.

Nowadays, the Disney Channel is where it is at. It is a farm for little tabloid mongers raw talent. Nickelodeon can suck it. Josh from Drake and Josh isn't even funny anymore since he isn't fat. Jamie-Lynn got all knocked up and Zoey 101 got a little bit awkward when everyone had to explain why little Zoey had to go away for nine months. No one on the Disney Channel got pregnant while their careers were at their peak. (Hey, Disney, I don't even believe in premarital sex. I have a promise ring and everything) The DC only has shows that build morals and instill values into today's youth in a comical wholesome family friendly way and I dig that. Oh and their one show kind of makes me want to be a wizard because that is kind of cool.

What's that you ask? Am I too old to be Disney's new little darling? Heck no (notice I didn't say "hell"). In fact, I'm at my prime. Four words: Ashley Tisdale, Fug Kevin Jonas. They both have their driver's licenses, can vote, and one of them is getting married or something. Well, whadaya know? I, too have a driver's license and can vote. The only reason why I'm not getting married is because I'm saving myself for Joe Jonas. Like many of their Disney cohorts, The Tiz and the oldest Jonas, are in their early 20's, like myself, and play high school kids on tv. Not only will Disney never have to worry about violating any child labor laws with me, they won't ever have to worry about any bad press for underage drinking either. Duh. I'm totally over 21. Plus, have you seen me? I look like I'm 17 years old. Second plus, I'm Asian, which means I'll look 17 years old until I'm say... I don't know... 97! It's a win-win for both parties.

Can I act? Can I act? I scoff at you. Let me let you in on a little known fact about me: I can cry on cue. I know. Not many people can do that anymore and I don't even have to go to my sad place to do that. Oh and you haven't seen comedic timing like mine since The Three Stooges, Lucille Ball, and Pauly Shore. That's right. I'm money. Once America sees my pouty face and puppy dog eyes, they'll be done. I'll own the audience and make them all my bitch. And I don't know if you knew this, but London Tipton from Suite Life... yeah, she's basically loosely based on me. Whatever. Not many people know and I don't like to brag. Why have the knock off, when you can have the real thing? (That's right, Brenda Song, I was totally directing that comment toward you.)

As far as nudey pic scandals go, I mean I'll do them when I need a little more buzz (cough... Vanessa Hudgens). I can take the heat. I have a cell phone and access to the internet. Just kidding. I've got nothing to hide. They're already on my Facebook page. Go ahead and comment on them. Once I'm the latest Disney sensation and this issue needs to be addressed, I'll just apologize and talk about how I never realized I was a role model until this very moment. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Cue the single tear rolling down my cheek. Then I lay low for while. Ba-da-bing-ba-da-boom. I've got more press than ever and I'm starring in a tween movie. I know the company protocol already and I can do my own PR.

Oh and I would totally be BFF with the Selena Gomez and Miley Cyrus... but not when they are together since we all know they secretly hate each other. Can you say drama? I'd also be into dating a Jonas Brother for a little publicity. Joe's into the older ladies (rawr) and I'm kind of into Joe (just wanted to put that out there). Yes. I will become America's sweetheart and be one step closer to taking over the world. With nothing standing between me and my tween army except a foot of bullet proof glass in case some smart ass tries to stage a coup, I will rule with an iron fist and no one will stop me. (Insert evil laugh here.)

Now that I think about it, Disney needs me--almost more than I need them. I'm ready, willing and able, Disney. Just let me know when and where and I'll be there. Be sure to have my venti caramel macchiato with skim milk and a splash of whipped from Starbucks next to my contract in my trailer. I'll be there in 5. Thanks. :)

Call Me Kevin Bacon, I'm One Degree Away From a Murderer

Hi. My name is Kim and I'm a recovering tabloid junkie. This is a problem I can't stop---stemming from the first time I ever laid my eyes on an US Weekly. I get the shakes if I don't get my Perez Hilton fix and I'm addicted to The Superficial. My dream job is to be a snarky/sassy commentator on VH1 like Michael Ian Black and Hal Sparks. Now, my dream has become one step closer to coming true.

I work for a trade publication in this beautiful city that I call home. Along with three fabulous ladies (yes... even you, Megan), I manage all the advertisements that go into every one of our magazines. The day began just like any other--checking my email, making follow up phone calls, chatting away about our favorite tv shows (among other things) and Megan Wants a Millionaire just so happened to be our flavor of the month.

As per usual, I'm call a particular advertiser and everything is peachy keen. It was just another follow up about a proof I had sent out. The secretary tells me that my contact is not available because he is dealing with "heavy issues" and that he will not be back in the office for a while. Because this is just an excuse I hear everyday, I just ask her if she had herself had any feedback. She told me that she didn't and that the owner of the company was really the one I had to wait to speak to, but he now he was dealing with family issues since his son had been all over the news. Of course, I didn't really care; I just wanted to do my job. Then she revealed that his son was RYAN JENKINS!

In case you didn't know, Ryan Jenkins (also known as "The Smooth Operator") was a finalist on Megan Hauserman's reality show, aptly titled, Megan Wants a Millionaire, is a "person of interest" in being charged with the murder of swim suit model, Jasmine Fiore, as of late. There is literally an "international manhunt" for this man. He fled on foot to Canada!! (source 1 source 2)

Out of shock and my own curiousity, all I could respond with was, "Megan Wants a Millionaire Ryan Jenkins?" With what could of been substituted with a "DUH!", the secretary very professionally stated that the owner of the company would not want to speak about it. After she said she would relay my message, I could tell that she was a little relieved and happy that she was able to tell me about the news.

I hung up the phone. How crazy is that? I mean, what are the chances? As far as I know, Megan and I were the only people in the world that watched MWAM and we are basically directly working with this guy's father! I am basically working directly with a murderer's father! He is my client. It is pretty intense and I'm definitely the wrong person to be working with them because I definitely have the biggest mouth in the world, but holy crap. I'm one degree from a murderer VH1.

If this ever gets on Best Week Ever, I would dump--just straight out dump. If only there was some way that I could work with Real and Chance, Bret Michaels, Daisy de la Hoya, and New York...then and ONLY then would my life would be complete.

In other news, Happy Birthday, Dad! Thanks for making me. :)

Eric Northman, Be My Maker

Dear Eric Northman,

This may not be the time or the place since you are dealing with the loss of Godric (who was very bad ass if I may say so), but please be my maker. I think that I would make a kick ass vampire minion. I wouldn't even drink True Blood because if I'm going to be a vampire, I sure as hell will not half ass it and drink synthetic crap. If it helps, I already own a pair of leather pants, so I will fit right into your nest and if you want to move this vampire craze up north, I will be more than happy to be the sheriff of whatever area Chicago is.

I want you to be my maker because you have power. Power is hot. Even if you weren't Sherriff of Area 5, you would still own Fangtasia, which means you have ambition and drive since you are an entreprenuer. It is also very important to me that you are my maker because you answer to no man and I like that because I hate authority (F the police... yeah, I said it, WHAT?).

Also, you are so much cooler than those TWILIGHT nobodies. They're all virginal and too scared to suck blood. If Edward Cullen were my maker I would die. He's so sensitive and always wants to talk about feelings. I know that you can be sensitive too, but I like that you are more about business time... if you know what I mean (insert cat noise here). And even though I like glitter, I'm glad you don't get all shiny in the light. That's a little too flamboyant... even for a vampire.

Bill is cool and all, but I would rather have you be my maker because you are so much more broody and mysterious. He's all pastier than a normal vampire and all about doing the right thing. I'm more for ripping people apart and trying to not get blood in my highlights. So hot. Also, you seem to have Pam in check and I like that. Mr. Compton doesn't even know what to do with Jessica.

Speaking of Pam, I like her and all, but I would do whatever you wanted without question. I wouldn't care if I ruined my favorite pumps. If you were my maker, I wouldn't even think and just do because like you said, there is no bond stronger than that between a vampire and his maker. ;)

Unlike Sookie, I don't even need to drink any of your blood to be attracted to you. Hell, I don't even need to be glamoured. To be honest, I wasn't even attracted to you until you got hair cut because I really wasn't feeling you with long hair and I'm not a fan of blonds. But your so tall and broody. And I like that your not afraid to cry.

If you do not want to be my maker, that is cool. I can be your human pet, whatever. You're just way hot and if it were possible, I would like have your babies. Too bad we cannot procreate. Our babies would be pure sex. :)

Anyways, I hope you think about being my maker. We could rule the world, Eric Northman, and it would be sweet.

Love Always,

(idk my bff) Kim

Love, What a Silly Game You Play.

This may seem very premature and very Carrie Bradshaw-esque of me to ask, but how do you know you found "The One"? Don't give me that, you just know crap. Like really, how do you know you know? Is there some sort of sign? Are there certain key words? I just don't know.

As a pronoun, by definition, "The One" is a person or thing of a number or kind indicated or understood. But if it were "indicated" or "understood", I would already know the answer to my question. According to Mr. Daniel Beddingfield, "The One" is apparently someone who makes your soul feel glad today and who's hand fits yours in a certain way. But let's be real, Daniel Beddingfield has basically been irrelevent since this song came out in 2002.

Plus, over the years my definition of "The One" has changed so much over the years, how the f would I know if I even met him?

When I was young and naive (aka in junior high), I thought I would find "The One" just like they did in the movies. I wanted to have an epic romance like Alicia Silverstone and Paul Rudd in Clueless minus the being step-siblings at some point part or Rachel Leigh Cook and Freddie Prinze Jr in She's All That Julia Stiles and Heath Ledger in 10 Things I Hate About You. I was really into the whole opposites attract and fall in love cliche. But when you think about it, these kids were in high school. If these scenarios were real, these kids probably went off to college and met new people and ended up happily ever after with someone else. When I was in high school, I thought "The One" was anyone with a car so I wouldn't have to take the bus home.

In college, it was different. I was older and less naive. There was no one to stop me from doing whatever I wanted and I was legal. I had to go to class, but whatever, my days ended at noon. I wanted something less superficial than just some guy with a car. At that point, I wanted "The One" to be someone who was more mature, sophisticated, career-oriented, charming and if he had a car, cool. I wanted him to be Robin Thicke or, again, Paul Rudd (because let's face it, he is a dream boat), instead I got some a-hole who used me to get over his midlife crisis.

It took a while, but I got over it. When I turned 21, "The One" turned into whoever wanted to buy me a drink. Not that I ever set out on a neverending quest to find him, but that's when I stopped thinking "The One" existed. By that point, I didn't care. Quite frankly, I did not really want to be with anyone that I met (dun dun dun) forever. Most of the time, I didn't even care to be around anyone I met for more than two weekends. It cramped my style. I had a very laissez-fairre attitude when it came to finding love at that point since I didn't even really want to.

My life was great. There I was on the final stretch between adolescence and being a full-fledged grown up. College was almost over. The job hunt had just begun. All I wanted to be independent and I was. I loved being single--being able to enjoy time with my friends, not answering to anyone but me, focusing on what I wanted.

And then BAM!

Here I am. A year and then some into the best relationship I've ever had with the most amazing guy I've ever met. He makes me so mad and drives me crazy, and I wouldn't have it any other way. He makes me happier than I have ever been and I can only hope that I make him happier than  he has ever been. But dare I ask-- Is he IT? Is this one "The One"? I mean, I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I would like to think so. There may or may not be a lot of wishful thinking (mainly on my part), but I don't know and I know that he doesn't know either.

Maybe none of us are supposed to know the true meaning of "The One". It's probably one of those lame things that is different to everyone and yadda, yadda, yadda.

To quote Miss Bradshaw:

When it comes to relationships, maybe we're all in glass houses, and shouldn't throw stones. Because you can never really know. Some people are settling down, some are settling and some people refuse to settle for anything less than butterflies...

...And I get that. I guess, whatever helps me sleep at night. :P

(This probably makes no sense whatsoever.)

Good Morning, Chicago.

Ah. The sun is shining. There is dew on the leaves. Birds are chirping... kind of. The construction site across the street is overpowering the birds, but you can hear their faint song somewhat as a gust of fresh air rushes to your face as you walk out of your building and make your way to walk. It is going to be a good day.

You see the joggers jogging about with their noses up in the air and their smug yeah-I'm-better-than-you-because-I- get-up-early-to-work-out demeanor. (Why is that the majority only wear really short shorts or really really tight clothes?) Then the little old woman you see rain or shine passes you with her dog who looks more like it is taking her for the walk since she can barely control him. You walk underneath at least one scaffolding before you arrive at your bus/train stop and pace anxiously with the other commuters waiting for your favorite mode of transportation to arrive.

It does not matter if you take the bus or the train, but for some reason it always smells the same--that homeless/haven't showered in months smell. But for some reason, there is something about the scent of piss and last night's vomit on an early morning that just starts your day off right. If it didn't smell as rancid as it did, it wouldn't be public transportation, would it?

The best feeling in the world is getting on an empty bus or cart. Having your own seat is basically a miracle. All your problems disappear. You put your Ipod on and just lose yourself, jam out a little bit--perhaps read the Red Eye because you can since you have so much room. Hell, you even pull out a pen and start the crossword puzzle. It is just amazing. Everything is turning up Milhouse.

If you make it to your final destination with your own seat, you are just on top of the world. But if somewhere between point A and point B someone sits next you, you best believe that person becomes your mortal enemy for violating your personal space. The whole rest of the way you are picking out every possible thing that could be wrong with them in your mind. It gives you anxiety and you have mini panic attacks when someone sits next to you. At that point, they are ruining not just your day... but your whole life.

It is all a mind game too--like it is a personal attack on you. They brush up against you while they are rummaging through their crap. You give them a dirty look and kind of "accidently" nudge them with your elbow... hard. The a-hole pulls out a newspaper and totally invades your person space. You sigh loud enough for them to hear and roll your eyes. Before you know it, this mother fucker is all over your shit and basically sitting on your lap. You start breathing heavy and freaking out. It gets really hot and you notice this piece of shit is sweating all over you... and they are wearing so much eau de toilette that you start dry heaving. You wonder, WTF! Why me, God? There are 700 open seats, even rows without people in them! (God points laughs because He hates you.)

The commute you take every single day feels about five hours longer. The calm morning turns into a neverending nightmare. There are friggin pigeons everywhere. The cars honking in the midst of traffic give you a major headache. Those goddamn Green Peace people are asking you to save the children/polar bears/environment. As you flick them off, a huge gust of wind comes and ruins your hair as your about to walk into your office.

Man, I love this city.