AKA Wolowizard, The Falcon, Froot Loops, wealthy_big_penis
MIT graduate with a master's degree, astronaut, mama's boy, and perennially hopeful ladies' man, Howard Joel Wolowitz brightly slithers across a backdrop of sitcom ordinariness with color-coordinated flair, a lascivious leer, and corny pick-up lines in six languages. Seven if you count Klingon. The fact that he's no more successful at engineering a romantic conquest than designing a functioning space toilet, is what keeps the designated funny one from slipping into utter tawdriness.
Despite his questionable aptitude he's the lead gadgeteer within the group, with quite a few malevolent machines under his belt buckle. Joining M.O.N.T.E. in the graveyard of Wolowitz-designed mechanical misfires are a security system that devours skittish physicists, a disembodied robot arm with an incompatible self-pleasuring application, and an avian sonic "death ray" that shatters windows.
Mired within a brisket-scented clownhouse of shrill co-dependency with his never-seen mother, our micro hero, who can be rendered helpless with a packet of peanuts, frequently Vespas out of her orbit to join his mates on the battlefields of Halo, paintball or a singles bar. All the while fending off the slings and arrows with a keenly honed (toy) sabre of snark.
Lately however Sir Howard of Wolowitz is more likely to do battle with the domestic banalities of in-laws, car ownership, and household budgets. Sadly it's a fate his Nerdvana accomplices are slowly but inexorably being pulled towards as well.
by Check E. Light