I was recently reading an article about a bunch of real life super heroes, or rather, a bunch of jack-asses with too much spare time and a grip on reality akin to my own grip on sobriety. Mostly you find very similar guys who although clearly weirder than the average bear, honestly just want to do a little good in the world, whether that be returning dropped purses, cutting through the cops tire clamps to free the sufferers of a police state, or assisting with the alleged busting up of unspecified illegal gambling dens. Cool stuff, more power to them, rock on, and all that jazz.
Unfortunately there are bound to be a few disappointments to the crime fighting community. I thought “The Big O” was a disappointment when I found out his super power was in fact not giving women tons and tons of free orgasms, but rather just a bunch of Dudley Dooright bullshit. However, I had no idea how truly misguided a super human could be until I read about Terrifica.
Terrifica derives her name not from being terrific, but rather from the greek word terriblos, meaning terrible, and fica meaning fecal matter. Her super power is being a crusty bitter bitch and running around in bars like a lunatic trying her best to stop people from hooking up. That’s right, this woman has devoted her life to making sure other people have as little casual sex as possible. Can you say C.U.N.T? Look I understand that a lot of women walk around like two dollar whores in clubs shaking their vagina left and right, then get all pissy and bleedy when some guy assumes they are loose, buys them a bunch of alcohol, listens to them blather on about Twilight and how crazy the receptionist at work is, dances to a bunch of chick music for a while, drives them home, tricks them into getting naked and laying down on their back, and then like some treacherous poon robber makes some fierce sex to their baby boxes without thinking about what their fickle fleeting emotional whims might be the next morning. I really do understand ladies. But just because you’ve had a devastating break up or two does not mean that you should try to stop everyone else from making the sexuals. Get over it, SRSLY!
What Terrifica needs to do is stay home and focus on not being used again. She can just stay in her little apartment with her fifty cats and keep her sweet ass nice and safe from all those horrible men out there, and likewise, I’m sure they won’t mind too much either. But no, apparently somewhere along the line while she was crying to herself and eating ice cream, thinking about how much she hated those mean old meanies who didn’t fulfill her idiotic fantasies of how every man should be a prince charming and love only her, and she doesn’t share any responsibility for her relationships being poorly matched, somewhere in there spandex sounded like a good idea. Really? WTF mate?
The following is a quote from a NYMag.com article I read spicifically about her. “On a recent Saturday night in Park Slope, Terrifica bursts through the door of a bar called Commonwealth. She is resplendent in red spandex, scarlet boots, and red plastic overcoat. She wears no cape or mask—tonight is an “undercover” operation. She makes a beeline to a dark corner where a couple looks poised to canoodle. After speaking to them quietly, she opens her utility belt—referring to it as a fanny pack will not endear you to Terrifica—and gives them a pair of gold lamé fortune cards. When Terrifica moves on to another couple, I ask what happened. “She asked if we were going to hook up tonight,” says Lauren, a 24-year-old painter. (“We’re just good friends,” interjects her buddy Justin.) “She offered us a condom and said that if I was going to be tricked into having sex, at least it should be safe.”
Dear Terrificunt: if you ever read this, please go fuck yourself. In fact, that’s possibly the best advise I have ever given anyone. Your new super power should be fucking yourself, and you should change your name to Vibratica or Erotica or Clitica or something. And instead of being the ultimate cock block, you should spend some time giving people sex toys and sensual lotions and buying rounds for bars and slipping date rape drugs into everyones drink so everyone gets laid! Seriously, if you are that hung up on your exes, please, for the love of God, go get laid. Tell you what, me and Emerald will get you drunk and love you up something crazy, as our personal favor to the world. (I haven’t actually cleared this with Em yet, but go ahead and call me, I’m sure we can work something out) You know you want it, come and get it sugar tits, just don’t expect us to call you back, or use protection.