Frau Holle

Batman Vol. 3 Annual #3 - Father’s Day (December 12, 2018)

At least hit the shiny repost button if you're going to do nothing else. This should not stand.

My mom on FaceTime: ???

Me: I had to explain to Penny how the borrowers are part of the elf union and so they go to North Pole the last 3 weeks of the year so no one ever has to work too much over time and that's why they haven't taken mommy's wrapping paper or scissors or anything else I've left out... shes trying to explain the elf union to you.

I continued to be actively involved in theater as a kid (and frequently played roles of various small animals, because I was tiny for my age). Around the age of ten, I was cast as the lead character in a musical about cowboys that I no longer remember the name of. It was my first real lead role, and I took it very, very seriously. And because I am myself, that means I maaaaybe went…a little overboard.

My character’s introduction was early in the play, accompanied by the crack of a bullwhip. This was more-or-less pre internet (or, at least, our director was not tech-savvy enough to find sound effects online) and we didn’t have a sound effect track for that noise. There were plans to acquire the appropriate sound effect before opening night, but I rapidly tired of making my entrance during rehearsals to the sound of someone yelling “BULLWHIP NOISE!”

This, I thought to myself, is a problem I can solve.

I learned early in life that it’s good to be friends with people who have skills; they always come in handy eventually.  After rehearsals one day, I put on my cowboy boots and biked a couple miles over to my friend Grace’s house. I went down to their basement and knocked on her older brother’s door.

“Hello,” I said. “I need to learn how to use a bullwhip.”

“….Okay,” he said. It did not seem to occur to him that he might ask further questions about why I, a tiny horrible munchkin composed exclusively of rage and pointy elbows, needed to be weaponized any further. Clearly, I had come to the right person.

My friend’s older brother would have been an SCA nerd, if SCA was a thing where we were. Instead, he was one of those unsupervised 4H kids with weird hobbies, largely oriented around ancient forms of combat. He was somewhere in his late teens at this time, and he liked to make stuff. It was an urge I, even at age ten, could sympathize with. His name was Aron. 

Aron got out his bullwhip (which I had noticed hanging on his wall on a prior visit, and had filed away mentally under a for future use tab) and we went to the backyard. 

“Step one of using a bullwhip,” Aron began, “Swinging the bullwhip.” 

We rapidly discovered that since I was god’s tiniest, angriest creation, a full-size bullwhip was way too long for me to use. Aron’s shins suffered for my attempt. 

“…Step one of using a bullwhip,” Aron said, “Making a bullwhip.”

So we went back inside, found a tanned cowhide (that he just…had? I don’t remember if there was a reason for this.) and some razor blades, and I learned how to cut and braid a bullwhip. It took a few tries, and I wound up coming back for a while, because I kept getting frustrated with the bullwhip-braiding process and Aron kept distracting me with bait like: “Hey kid, wanna learn to make some chainmail?” and “Hey kid, wanna fletch some arrows?” and “Hey kid, wanna try doing horseback archery?”

Obviously the answer to these questions was “BOY, WOULD I EVER!” Some delays are necessary to the artistic process.

(At one point my mom asked me “Hellen, what are you doing over at Grace’s house all the time?” And I, perfectly innocent, said, “Making weapons!” and my mother, who never understood why I was like this, but accepted that a girl has needs and those needs occasionally involve stocking a personal armory, said “Okay! Have fun!”)

Soon, the bullwhip, size extra small, was finished. The lessons on actual bullwhip use commenced. 

It should be noted that Aron was self-taught, and really had no idea what to do, so this was mostly an exercise in the two of us standing twenty feet apart and flailing wildly with our respective whips until snapping noises happened. And then we figured out what we’d done to make the snapping noises. And then we kept doing that. Extremely vigorously. So vigorously that at one point one of the bullwhips launched into the air and caught on a tree branch and we hand to drag the trampoline over so Aron could bounce me high enough to grab it. But we persisted!

Eventually we reached a point where we could line up pop cans on a fence rail and hit them off three times out of five.

Feeling extremely accomplished and like I finally understood method acting, I packed my bullwhip into my backpack for the next play rehearsal. Soon enough, it was time for me to make my entrance. 

I leaped on stage in my cowboy boots and cracked the bullwhip as hard as I could, immediately launching into the song despite the fact that the sound of five feet of braided leather breaking sound barrier had startled the accompanist so badly she’d keysmashed on the piano.

The director shouted something she probably shouldn’t have shouted in a room full of small children, and then demanded, “WHERE DID YOU GET THAT!”

“I made it!” I declared proudly. “I’m a cowgirl! I can make my own bullwhip noise!”

“You…made it?” 

“Yes! Because we needed a bullwhip sound effect. And bullwhips are where bullwhip sound effects come from!”

This was, of course, impeccable logic.

It is apparently difficult to argue with a gleeful ten year old who happens to be armed with a bullwhip longer than she is tall. After some negotiation, the director agreed that I could use my bullwhip for my opening song, provided that I didn’t pop it while anyone was anywhere near me on stage and I didn’t let anyone else play with it. These terms were acceptable to me. 

Somehow, no one was injured and the play went off without a hitch. We can only chalk up these things to the magic of the theatre. 

Nearly a decade later, an unsuspecting college classmate asked me, “Hellen, wanna take a class on bullwhip combat with me?”

#hello again martin and bosco!! sending you boys round for another go :)

Neuschwanstein, literally the inspo for the castles in Disney's Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella

Hohenschwangau, the practical castle

Linderhof, the final, the smallest, and the MOST fab.

Every room is incredible and the park is beautiful, but shoutout to The Bedroom, the biggest room

The Hall of Mirrors, which he probably wandered by candle light because he was a serious night owl

The Dining Room, with a wishing table that lowers to the kitchen, and rises with a crank, returning magically full of food

The Venus Grotto, constructed for the sole use of Ludwig to larp to his heart's content

A full artificial cave, it features a waterfall, fake stalactites, and a custom-designed swan boat floating on an artificial lake. The first electricity in Bavaria was generated here, to change the colors of the stage lights and to power Ludwig's fountain and wave machine.

the public paid for zero of his fairytale castle hobby

This summer when we had that rolling heat wave, we bought extra bottle of water to hand out to people walking by our house because people looked like they were struggling.

He rescues turtles out of the road when they stray too far from the river. Last week he chased down a sweet little dog running toward a main road and carried all the way to the park to find its owner.

When it snows—and boy does it snow in Minnesota—he’ll usually go as far down the street as the battery in the snow plough will allow.

Two weeks ago he met my brother’s friend for the first time, and found out he and his pregnant wife were moving house and immediately offered to help. Zero hesitation. Just, oh, do you need help? No? Are you sure? Well gosh, okay. Let me know if anything comes up it’s no trouble…

He’s a kind man, is what I’m saying.

Which most of you know because of how hard he fought to keep me alive and continues to care for me. But he’s also got the Clark Kent persona where all people see is the mild manners and the politeness and the way he tries to not be a bother or take up too much space.

So it’s incredibly funny, to me—who knows the fact that he’s ready to throw down and fight god at any moment—when my family manages to push a button they didn’t expect to exist because how nice he seems.

So to them, they just heard Clark Kent say quite calmly but with utter conviction: yeah, no, I think most landlords are parasites. We should do away with them. That and the billionaires. But we should probably just guillotine all of them.

And my family are just like:

See this boy?

His name is Ash and he's my 14yo's ESA. My 14yo that keeps trying to kill himself. He's hanging on by a thread, making Ash here the most important cat in the world.

Ash was rushed to the vet this morning with a bladder obstruction. You should have seen the x-ray his poor bladder was so distended. They got the obstruction out and via catheter his bladder is now empty. Out came grit (urinary crystals) and blood including clots.

I can not let this cat die. I have a reasonable mother's fear I'll lose my human baby too if we do. This cat needs to live forever.

This cat also needs a few days of hospitalization to push fluids to help work everything through his bladder. His bloodwork is shit they need to get those numbers better. He needs IV and catheter for a few days.

I've already paid for today's 1000$ vet visit and getting the obstruction out. I have the first 24hrs of hospitalization covered. But it's another 1500$ to monitor and make sure he's ok. And it's the rest of it that i just....

I need help. I need charity. I need a miracle.

If you can't donate i fully understand but can you please i beg you pass this cry for help on and whatever you do be it prayer (to anyone) or light candles well wishes genie wishes my baby can't lose his ESA beyond we love our pet, my baby can't lose his ESA.

I don't know what else to do but beg.

paypal.me/karenmarrs

Cashapp

Venmo

Ask me for Zelle

I'm so scared.

Pig: *very long disgruntled groan which rises in pitch*

Man: Is that a yeah?

Pig: *shorter groan*

Man: Okay.  Here I come, I gotta get the intoxicated pig… Look at this pig…

Pig: *quiet snort*

Man: Hey!

Pig: *snort*

Man: Are you messed up, girl?  

Pig: *short snort*

Man: Never seen a damn pig… Look at that, that one here’s fine, that one there is fine, this one here is turned belly up 

Pig: *snort snort snort snort*

Man: Hey you

Pig: *snort*

Man: Whoa!  Whoa!  Shit!  [Unintelligible] HOWH!  Come here girl! 

Pig: *grunt grunt grunt*

they observed her overnight and got Animal Control to do a check-up on her. she’s fine

so yes, you you can enjoy the video without worrying about Drunk Pig

The cameras were still rolling on "The Birdcage" when Robin Williams pulled Nathan Lane aside between takes. Nathan had just finished a particularly tense scene. He was anxious, his timing had faltered slightly, and his usual control felt off. Robin leaned in and whispered, “You were perfect. I just added chaos. That’s what I do.” Nathan smiled, a little caught off guard. Robin’s words didn’t come like notes from a co-star, but like an arm around the shoulder, silent, kind, and full of permission to breathe.

Filming began in early 1995 at Miami’s Cardozo Hotel and soundstages in Los Angeles. "The Birdcage", directed by Mike Nichols, was a comedy built on flamboyance and theatrical flair, yet layered with emotional vulnerability. On screen, Robin played Armand Goldman, a gay cabaret owner trying to pass for conservative straight to please his son's fiancée's parents. Nathan Lane, as the exuberant Albert, Armand’s partner and drag performer, brought flamboyant wit mixed with aching sensitivity. Their chemistry lit up the film, but it was their off-screen connection that gave the performance its emotional core.

Robin walked onto set carrying more than just scripts. Behind his trademark improvisation was the quiet grief of personal losses and ongoing mental health struggles. He was navigating emotional pain with humor as his lifeline. Nathan, on the other hand, was living with a deep fear. He hadn’t come out publicly and lived in quiet dread that the spotlight could expose what he wasn’t yet ready to share. He later said in interviews that the fear was constant during production. But when Robin stood next to him, that fear softened.

Crew members often recalled moments between takes when Robin would launch into absurd improv routines, not for the camera but for Nathan. A sound technician once described how Robin stood on a table and did a full Shakespearean monologue in the voice of Elmer Fudd, simply because Nathan had flubbed a line and looked close to tears. That single moment broke the tension, made the whole room laugh, and brought Nathan back into himself. These weren’t just jokes. They were quiet acts of care.

Nathan’s attention to detail and his need for control came from years of hiding his authentic self in plain sight. Robin never asked him about it directly. He didn’t need to. Instead, he listened, showed up, and created a space where Nathan could feel seen without explanation. Their late-night conversations, often taking place over coffee in the makeup trailer or walks around the studio lot, were filled with stories, insecurities, and mutual admiration. Nathan once said, “Robin had this way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room. And then he’d make the whole room laugh, and you’d wonder how one person could hold that much light.”

Filming wrapped with both men knowing they had done something more than act. They had held each other up. And in a Hollywood that could often feel isolating, especially for queer actors, Nathan walked away with more than a role. He had found someone who understood the weight of performance, not just for the screen but for survival.

When Robin passed in 2014, Nathan’s tribute came with no flourish, no long stories. Just a handful of sentences, quietly powerful. “He saved me in ways I didn’t even understand until he was gone. Working with him felt like being wrapped in a blanket, warm, chaotic, and comforting.”

Calisthenics for Beginners (2023)

You can learn almost any exercise by building up with easier variations! Here are some examples.

Note: this is a short version of a 26-minute long video called "Home Workout for Beginners (2023)" on our YouTube channel. If you want more details, please check out that video or the Hybrid Routine page: https://www.hybridcalisthenics.com/routine I tried to fit what I can into a short video.

Also, yes my knees go in a bit more than I'd like during my intro jump when I stand up 😅. The one later is better.

We're going to try to schedule a large backlog of videos to post daily for a while! If anything seems out of order, that might be why. Follow for more - have a wonderful day!

Text for cut and paste:

Hybrid Routine 2.0

Monday:

Pushups: 2-3 Sets

Leg Raises: 2-3 Sets

Tuesday:

Pullups: 2-3 Sets

Squats: 2-3 Sets

Wednesday:

Bridges: 2-3 Sets

Twists: 2-3 Sets

Thursday:

Pushups: 2-3 Sets

Leg Raises: 2-3 Sets

Friday:

Pullups: 2-3 Sets

Squats: 2-3 Sets

Saturday:

Bridges: 2-3 Sets

Twists: 2-3 Sets

Sunday: