Okay, bad news: I had a system failure within the subsidiary Stark Mainframe (my home's system). The auxiliary power re-routed almost instantly from the generators, so I only lost about half of my data logs. Jarvis wasn’t responding, so it’s safe to say he went offline for awhile too. It’ll take a day to reload my backup files and set up a few more firewalls—I don’t know who the hell hacked in. I set a tracer, but nothing turned up except several hundred pages of meaningless binary.

Good news: who’s laughing now, Luthor?

I'm probably supposed to be kissing the ground or something, but I'm kind of undergoing what might be vertigo or a severe case of jet-lag or maybe morning sickness--pretty sure it's morning sickness, since, well, hey, it's kind of abundantly clear that waking up every morning and remembering that you're a homicidally inclined pregnant woman is the most horrific thing your stomach can possibly experience without shriveling up like a prune and committing suicide. Thanks for showing up late to the party, bile.

Prior to reacquainting myself with the toilet, I held a charity event at Metropolis City Hall yesterday morning to graciously pay for a set of newly acquired city damages, which Potts unsurprisingly found time to document. Thanks, Potts. Cute.

Lastly but not leastly, I took the lovely Ms. Bertinelli out for champagne and a short lesson on Astronomy before taking the jet back to California. Which reminds me: Hogan, Ted Nugent called. He wants his shirt back.

Is that it? Yeah, that's it. Good god-- come on, Pepper, get on the ball. Don't let me do your job.

Let's revise: shoot for the moon, and if you miss, you'll be trapped floating in between the stars for an eternity before your power reserves fail, therefore onsetting near-instanaeous ebullism, hypoxia, hypocapnia and decompression sickness as your lungs collapse and your muscles succumb to flaccid paralysis while you eventually freeze to death in a perfect vacuum.

Yeah, didn't happen. But you'd all miss me if it did. So kids, let's not try this at home, or your mommy will be very angry with me--uh, more than she is already, what with the whole Vegas incident you aren't aware of and shouldn't ever learn about-- anyway, I'm here, you're there, and aside from my rapidly mounting inferiority complex (fork over your secrets, Quintum, or I fork them for you), it's been a sit and wait kind of thing so far. Suit's good, arc reactor's fine. Quintum's definitely gung-ho for the hors d'oevres. I've already had more canapés than girlfriends and I only got here a few hours ago.

It's the robots. They keep bringing me trays of delicious-looking things. I can't turn them down. It wouldn't be nice.

All right, Leo, Jarvis, Supes. Can we shake it up now? I'm going stir-crazy here.

Flying to the moon: harder than you’d think, but just as neat. What kid doesn't want to be me?

Jarvis and I have been cracking down on fixing up the Mark III for interplanetary flight. I'd honestly thought about making a new suit entirely, but that’d take months of work that I can't spare. No time to kill. Haven’t slept for days. Running on coffee and scotch and I'm still behind schedule. This is your fault, TiVo.

Thankfully, the last of the tests will be done this afternoon. Promise. I started the automated assembly an hour ago and it’ll take six hours to finish up. Here's hoping my repulsors don't fizz out mid-flight because it would really just ruin my day if I burned up in the atmosphere.

I had to pull a few strings with the contacts I have in NASA to nab more GT alloy from the Stark Industries’ satellites we have cruising around. I’ve plated that over the original armor so I can survive the temperature change from the mesopause to the thermosphere, which is something like -100°C to 1,500°C instantaneously. External PSI's not a factor, thankfully, since the suit's already pressurized. My power-to-weight ratio might be compromised but that won’t really matter in a lower gravitational field, especially not since I'm using ion propulsion for most of the trip. My main setback is successfully getting off of this rock. Don’t think I’ll have any other troubles while landing on the other one. Got a post-it? Learn, NASA.

Although now I can add 'astronaut' to my lengthy laundry list of achievements, which is just icing. Space chic. This will be the sexiest thing in orbit since Hubble. Providing I don't die.

Hey, Rachel: sorry I've been so swamped, but if you can stand Malibu a little longer I'll get back to you on that taking-you-out-for-drinks thing. Just, you know, keep working on your tan. I'll leave the kitchen to you. Bond with Pepper or something.

Since most of the Avengers are off feeding their pet cats, I'll be teaming up with the JLA to help with preventing the whole Lex Luthor blowing a gasket and aiming his death laser at the moon thing. It's all on us, Steve. Let's not disappoint the man in the cape.

It seems I've severely neglected my beat-up-the-bad-guys quota. Pepper! You need to tell me of these things, or else I'll end up vegging out on the sofa watching FOX News and chewing on potato fries like last time.

Whatever. I'll R&R with Jarvis in the (severely modified) suit en route. He's due for an upgrade anyway and I'm especially feeling the terrorism this week. I need to get my asskick on before American troops are booted out of Iraq for good and I don't have a valid excuse to do 'training exercises' in that area anymore.

Let's ride.

It's only recently occurred to me that I've been sloshing through teensy micro-dramas of no consequence whatsoever, and that I've significantly more level-headed and enlightened while living as that moldy (airborne) couch potato Pepper's always warned me about -- which, if anyone really cared to discover, didn't actually taste as moldy as you've all been led to think.

Anyway, reactor's been fritzing so I'm heading back to the shop in Malibu. It's been a nice run flying around but I'm really starting to miss my sarcastic robotic conscience and TV Dinners of fish n' chips and synthetic American cheeseburgers and Pepper's very motherly outdoor voice and the highly underrated invention of the shower.

Nobody lavish me with attention or anything, I'm obviously not starved for it, or whatever else, actually, because I haven't just spent half my time fucking around in Uzbekistan or anything.

I had a bleeding Brit on my couch, and I gave him booze and bandages.

Steve? Please smack some America back into me. I'm losing it.

Small note, yeah, I know it's not Christmas, but thanks for the presents anyways. I appreciated... most of them. So, you can, you know, give me more.

You know what would be hilarious? If there was, like, a female counterpart to me. And. And she could build stuff like me. And she, she was smart, like really smart and could build stuff. Like me. And her name? Her name? It would be. It would be Iron Maiden. Because. Iron Man. Maiden. Man. Iron Maiden. That would be, what would be, and her favorite band? Ha! Ha, it would be, it would be Iron Maiden. Because that's her name. And she would look like this.



I should just, enclose myself, just step in there and get skewered. That would be. I think that would help.

Oh, look. I'm still drunk.

I think I'm going through more girls than beer bottles at this point. Note: body shots do not count. Where the hell did I get that tie? Anyway, flying back from Dubai in the morning. Parties there always make me want to kick something. Oh, right. Pepper got it for me. Well, in that case, I suppose it's not that bad... am I drunk? I don't even know at this point. I don't think it matters. Does it matter? You tell me if it matters. I can still have terrific sex when I'm drunk. That's what matters. At least, to these lovely to ladies. Are those polka dots? What the hell?

I went ahead and took the jet that Pepper sent over. It was around two in the morning and I was adequately, you know, sloshed, so I don't think I even noticed it was mine. Too bad I didn't have her around before to take out my trash. Who says I don't recycle? I'm a humanitarian. Plants should go back in the environment where they belong.

What I'm trying to say is, it was pretty nice while it lasted, Ivy, but you're a nature girl and it would have never worked out between us. See, I'm too wrapped up in technology to... let's say, 'water you' when you need it. And I guess the fact that I don't actually care.

Pepper would have done a better job of it, I'm sure. She's the environmentalist.

I arrived back in Malibu at around five, but I wasn't counting. Like I said, I was too smashed to think correctly and the whole talking thing wasn't going over too swell either. Pepper had Happy pick me up from the flight strip and now I'm back home at last, it seems. With a massive hangover.

Long story short: don't bother to try and contact me. Between mindless fucks and binging on booze, I'll be working.

Time to fill my badassery quota.

I donated $10,000 to MIT today because I haven't done anything worthwhile with my money except buy... art and, uh, tell Pepper to get herself nice things, which she doesn't anyway. Between working in the shop with a few projects Jarvis keeps telling me are useless ways to keep avoiding press conferences, and handling world hunger, or, uh, world orphanization- I don't care if it's not a word- by wildfires... or was that saving orphans from fires... anyway, I've lost track of what I was saying. But you get the point. I'm clearly swamped.

That aside, I've been working on upping the resolution on the projector system, you know, the holographic generator I use to interactively build and refine my projects? I haven't had a chance to use it since it's exclusive use in the creation for the Mark II and III suits. It's not like I need to, but I have a feeling that if I make Jarvis look at the specs for it, he can easily run through the code and tell me what needs programming in order for optimal performance. At best, it's glorified CPS technology right now- I mean, even the IO2 Heliodisplay technology is catching up. I can do better than that. Better yet, I can make him volunteer to be my test subject- he doesn't have a visual calibration function yet, just vocal; that should be next on my list, since I can easily cross-platform his coding so that he doesn't just run on Stark mainframes (easier for handheld access), and manage his I/O ratio to match that of the processor. Wait. Okay. This might take awhile.

Yeah, yeah, I get it, Pepper. I'll go meet with Ross and Fury. Don't get your panties in a bunch. Though, on second thought, please go ahead and bunch all you like. Just take pictures, hm?

Oh, right... the Superman issue. Yeah. I'll get on that.

Dammit, Supes. I'm not a fucking janitor.

I'm a goddamn American patriot. Doing my civic duties. Of blowing up things in other countries. Civically.

Jarvis? Get this thing on me. Connect to the Stark mainframe and bring up current events files so I can see which country's terrorist schemes I get to mangle today. Also, make a note on the exosystems; I want to improve pressure capabilities within the gold titanium alloy's parameters. Your heuristic routine calibration is creeping me out, but we'll roll with it. Just tone down the voice modulator so that you're not yelling in my ear.

Cool. Let's go blow shit up.

I'm enjoying your discomfort. Very much.

Dinner with Maggie went smashing, really. The girl is quick on her feet and just enough of an insufferable bitch for me to like her more than I should. And, as much as I hate to admit it, sitting at Dorsia is like voluntarily smashing your eyeballs out with a neon hammer, but any excuse to show off how rich I am is a chance that I won't pass up. Because, you know, I'm Tony Stark. And apparently I use too much aftershave. What a terrible, terrible thing. But the champagne made up for that. Yes, indeed. And I never liked the Black Pearl, anyway. I could make better.

We'll be real pals. It'll be fun. I swear.

See note: my flirt button does not have a switch. Because it is a button. And if you push it, it will not stop the signal. This is valuable information if you are thinking on having me take you out anyplace at any time, because if you get all pissy saying that I don't live up to my reputation, it's because my reputation is busy banging somebody else. Sorry. Not really. It's just my thing, sweethearts.

Oh, looky. What's this?

thisisironman is angry.

If you're not careful some delicate part of your circulatory system is going to explode. Take up yoga or something. You're probably making people nervous.

wanna know your lj's moodring color? enter your user name and hit the button. (discussion thread)

... No shit, Sherlock. I didn't need a website to tell me that. Do yourself a favor and drop me a line when you can tell me something I didn't already know.

If I'm making people nervous, I'm doing my job. Pipe down. Jeez.

Apparently your love for rapists overcomes all boundaries, doesn't it? I'm not surprised. You're too stupid to realize when you have a good thing, and consequently fuck it up with whatever bullshit logic turns those cogs. I hear your knees aren't doing so swell.

Tell you what; I'll cut his dick off and send it to you as a get well present.

I'm surrounded by idiots.