I don’t know that there’s been a time since I started Heroine Sheik back in the spring of 2005 where I’ve been so silent for so long. The culprit? The institution of marriage, clearly… along with a number of other “grownup” things.

Two Sundays I got married to game developer, best friend, and total cutie Scott Siegel, who’s been my partner in crime since high school. Despite the months of stress I waded through leading up to the actual day, it actually turned out to be an amazing day — full of sunshine, wonderful people, and squishy emotional meaning. I’m seriously considering recanting on my instructions to any and all people thinking of getting married to elope. Now.

Things haven’t slowed down since. After the last of the friendlies shipped back to the East Coast — both Scott and I are from Philly/NYC, which means we had five out of town guests staying in our living room — I packed up the apartment and we moved six blocks down the street, to a place of our own, sans roommate, complete with hardwood floors, high ceilings, and a closet I intend to turn into a fort. (See, I’m an adult.) My last few days have been spent unpacking, rebuilding Ikea furniture, and figuring out how to actually use the kitchen appliances given to us as wedding presents. Where’s the “make food instantly” button?

Yesterday was my birthday, making me 24. Needless to say, I’m freaked out that I’ve moved from early twenties to mid twenties. Granted, I’ll be 30 by the time I finish grad school, so really twenty-anything should be comforting. I know already I’m going to be one of those middle-aged women who freaks out over every wrinkle. And I’m not even old enough to rent a car. Scott and I spent the day down in Monterey, where I sketched fishies at the aquarium and was allowed to purchase a stuffed humpback whale. Apparently I turned five, not 24.

This Sunday it’s off to Tahiti for a honeymoon cruise. Fancy pants, right? According to the above photo, they have huts on stilts on water… or something. Normally I’m all about researching the places I visit, planning out every detail ahead of time, and generally LEARNING. This time I’m working hard to go with the flow and just enjoy myself, while attempting to get something resembling a tan. Those who attended the wedding, you lucky people you, know what I have at the moment is a wedding dress burn. Sex-y.

So apologies for the continued absence. Someday soon I’ll be back online, no longer soaking up rays on some beautiful blue stretch of water whilst sipping mixed drinks… but hopefully not too soon.

It occurs to me, with a week and a half to go until my wedding, I’ve never officially announced here at Heroine Sheik, “Hey, I’m getting married!” Yes, June 21st, i.e. next Sunday, is the big day, the end to a — gosh, one, two, three, four, five — five year engagement to game designer Scott Jon Siegel, and the culmination of a relationship that has lasted since I was fourteen. It sounds so sweet and vanilla, doesn’t it? Some days I feel like I need a sign hanging from the back of my wedding dress that reads “Poly Bi Sub.” Hell, the thought of being so heteronormative as to only throw my bouquet to women has me up at nights. God forbid I appear normal.

Needless to say, preparation for the wedding has had me running around like a crazy person for the last… well, the last nine months. And life isn’t bound to get calmer anytime soon. Starting Tuesday friends and family from across the country will be descending on San Francisco, putting my mind into overdrive with the thought that so many people I haven’t seen in so long will soon appear in one room. Then of course there’s the fact that I’m destined to forget some immensely important wedding detail that will surely turn my “big day” into a slapstick comedy routine. Have I mentioned how much I hate the phrase “big day?” Oh, and I hate being the center of attention. I was clearly not cut out to be a bride.

Those of you who follow me on Twitter have been watching me freak out over the fact that Scott and I oh-so-brilliantly decided to move apartments… seven days after the wedding. Thanks to my frantic scouting of 25 potential new homes in three days, we now have a place to live (Lower Haight, land of tasty falafel), but the day people leave after the wedding we start packing. Then a week later we go on our honeymoon. Then two weeks later we fly to Philadelphia for a post wedding party. Then I disappear to Europe for two weeks. Then I start my PhD program, which will take the next seven years of my life.

Wooblie wooblie woo! That’s the sound I make to indicate I’m going crazy. I suppose what I’m trying to say is: here’s a heads up about what’s going on in my real life right now. If you don’t see me around as much over the next few weeks, have pity, think happy thoughts, etc. And if you’re planning on getting married — like, ever — please do me this favor: elope. You think I’m joking, but I’m not. Elope elope elope. Now I’m off to see a man about a cupcake cake.

In my recent article on tech-inspired “camp” events, I tried to find a link between increased internet socializing and a drive to meet up with others in real life. As more and more of our interactions with friends and acquaintances take place online through social media sites like Facebook and Twitter, wouldn’t it make sense that the same people who spend the most time communicating from behind a keyboard are the ones driven to make up for it by arranging flesh and blood conferences? I think so.

Well apparently us technophiles aren’t alone in needing some real-world contact. According to The New York Times a new epidemic has hit high schools: rampant hugging. Instead of greeting each other verbally, friends of both genders are wrapping their arms around their buddies and squeezing. “No hi, no smile, no wave, no high-five — just the hug.” The horror! Needless to say, administrators are worried about sexual harassment, clogged hallways, and peer pressure. After all, all the cool kids are doing it. Seriously.

Like one mother quoted in the article, I can’t help but see a link between hugging and social network use. “Maybe it’s because all these kids do is text and go on Facebook so they don’t even have human contact anymore,” she chides. What a luddite (i.e. old person) thing to say. Still, if we take physicality out of one type of socializing, doesn’t it make sense it would crop up in another? As the article points out, Facebook even perpetuates the hug-idemic, with its “applications allowing friends to send hugs have tens of thousands of fans.” What that implies to me: social media is bringing us all closer together, making us more willing to breech personal boundaries.

Sounds so warm and fuzzy, doesn’t it? Don’t worry, I’m sure there’s something depressing to uncover about the human condition in there somewhere. In the meantime, find a breathing body and HUG HUG HUG!

Given their rocky record of screwing over their performers when it comes to image rights, I’ve never been a huge fan of the Suicide Girls. I will say, however, that I do get a kick out the free Suicide Girls iPhone app currently rocking the top downloads list. This free tidbit of an application features a handful of alternative beauties photographed with and without their clothes on. Flip the phone in your hand to see their dresses fade away, leaving only their emo undies.

This is, in more ways than one, kind of brilliant. First, it passes the Apple Comstock test — calling itself “PG-13″ and explaining “SuicideGirls is a community that celebrates alternative beauty and alternative culture from all over the world. Now you can interact with them right in your pocket.” Of course, you can do a lot more “interacting” over at the R-rated, and definitely not free, SuicideGirls.com. Second it combines sexiness proper with the sexy appeal of the iPhone itself. These ladies look good, but specifically they look good as brightly colored icons against white backgrounds viewed on a shiny, shiny screen.

What does it mean to carry around Suicide Girls in your pocket? What does it mean to, with a twist of the wrist, make them strip on your command? I love the interactive control of this app, simple and straightforward as it may be. Clothes on, clothes off, clothes on, clothes off. In trying to adapt the naughty pen model for the tech age (flip the pen and her bikini slides down, remember?), the app developer has added tension to the act of smut consumption by incorporating what’s quite nearly a game mechanic. Ladies and gentlemen, we have successfully salacious interactivity!

Now if only we could channel this tiny, tasty success into a full-blown successful sex game, I might have a Macworld review on my hands… not that it would ever pass by the puritan eye of Papa Apple. Those guys hate pleasure, I hear. Maybe that explains why all the kinksters I meet from the valley work at Google.

Huzzah and much cheer. My feature on profitable web phenomena, “Cash In on Internet Memes,” is finally up over at PCWorld.com. Go read!

“Gone are the days of hamster dance and Star Wars kid, of Leeroy Jenkins and Peanut Butter Jelly Time. In their place a new generation of Internet memes is emerging. They’re just as much fun as ever, but they’re also smarter, more respected, and positioned to make a heck of a lot more money than their predecessors.

That’s right: From its murky origins in anonymously authored minor distractions, the Internet phenomenon we know as the meme has become a mighty engine of commerce. LOLcats have invaded bookstores. Cute Overload bunnies adorn day-by-day calendars that sell for $13 a pop. Remember the blogger who mocked us at StuffWhitePeopleLike.com? He reportedly was offered not only a book deal, but also a $350,000 advance.

Is it too late for you to strike gold with a money-making meme? Not at all. But you’ll find your way to affluence more quickly with the aid of some practical tips. Here is your guide to cashing in on Web fads…”

Ah, self-quoting. Interviewed in the article are such kings of meme-land as Mat Honan from Barach Obama Is Your New Bicycle, Tim Hwang of ROFLcon, and Ben Huh of I Can Haz Cheezburger, who talks about the secrets and longevity of LOLcat success. I also chatted with fellow Wired reporter Brian Raftery, and internet culture expert Alex Halavais, who has been making me swoon with comparisons between the spread of memes and plague. Of course, the question of whether the meme gold rush will continue is actually quite up in the air — but before you decide call it a fad or for keeps you should read for yourself!

Picking up a copy of Watchmen lying around a friend’s apartment the other day reminded me that I never threw in my two cents back at the height of the Alan Moore craze that hit earlier this year. Like every good geek (normally I would say “dork,” but apparently I’ve been using that word incorrectly), I made sure to read the graphic novel before the movie came out. Then I sat around analyzing both the text and the film, separately and in comparison, because that’s just my idea of a good time.

Even months later, now that the book has really sunk in, I can’t say I enjoyed reading Watchmen. That’s blasphemy, I know, but I’m not doubting the groundbreaking things it did for graphic novels, or the impressive intricacies of its plot and character backgrounds. For me what was lacking was meaningful and unusual interpersonal connections. Granted, I’m biased. I don’t care about action. I’m not a super hero fan, so I don’t get off on the meta commentary. What interests me in all genres is the way people interact, and these people don’t interact very interestingly.

I can think of two notable exceptions. They’re also the elements of Watchmen that have stayed with me the longest. First, there’s Dr. Manhattan’s simultaneous relationships with Laurie and Janey — more an expression of polyamory than serial monogamy, given the way everyone’s favorite big blue hunk experiences time. Second there’s Sally’s striking affection for the Comedian, the man who tried to rape her. It’s that inexplicable yet bizarrely understandable response (how could she love him? what choice did she have?) that makes both characters real.

Of course, my mixed feelings for Watchmen aren’t making me any less anxious for my re-released copy of Alan Moore’s Lost Girls to hurry up and get its ass here from Amazon. Erotic graphic novel based on children’s stories, quit being a tease!