Clouds

I found this picture of my sister on facebook, so I drew a shit-comic of the first thing that came to mind when I saw it.  I have no scanner and no tablet, SO PHONE PICTURES FOR ALL.

Turns out I write funnier stuff randomly and in under 30 seconds.  Perhaps this means I'll post more.

Crab Legs

Crab legs have got to be one of my favorite foods.  Not only because they taste good, but they're so damn carnal.  Think about it, what other food can you think of where you steam an animal in its own exoskeleton, break the shell to pieces with your bare hands and stuff your face with the steamed, dripping meaty insides.  If aliens sent a recording device from outer space to observe humans and take notes and they happened to pop in on my family eating a big ol' plate of crab legs they'd probably think we were savage beasts and either run or exterminate all human life.

The last time I ate crab legs was when my dad's buddy Mike came to visit.  This was a year ago, when I still lived with my dad and played videogames in my joblessness.  The particular video I was playing that day was Metal Gear Solid 3, my personal favorite.  While dad and Mike were steaming crab legs, I was running Snake into an electric fence over and over again to make my dad laugh.

Then, came dinner time.  Dad, Mike, my sister and I spent a good hour slobbering over a table full of crab carcasses.  We cracked open the shells with ferver, sucking down the meat with cups of melted butter.  Eventually, we had had our fill, and our glorious battle came to a close.  I decided to take a bath.

In the tub I went through the basic steps of a bath.  Once I decided I was clean, I noticed a strage smell in the air.  Naturally, being paranoid about my health, I started freaking out thinking it was a smell I emitted myself.  Now, this was no fart smell.  To me, it smelled like infection and I thought I was going to die.

I drained the tub and wrappped myself in a towel.  I feebily opened the door to make my way towards the phone so I could call my all-knowing mother to see what the hell was wrong with me.  Suddenly, I was bombarded by shouting coming from the other side of the house.

"Oh my god, that's just terrible!"

"That's disgusting."

"Eeeeeew!"

It was then that I realized the smell was not coming from me, but the kitchen.  I clothed myself quickly and bolted towards the highest concentration of stink.  There, I found my family immersed in a cloud of thick, putrid smoke.

"What the hell is going on in here?!"  I shouted.

"Gnaaaagh!"  Was all I got out of anyone, so I joined the panic.  Finally, my dad decided to grab the industrial sized warehouse fan from the basement and uses it to blast most of the smell out of the kitchen.  It still smelled, but the smoke was now outside.  We opened every window and door and then I got my story.

My sister explained to me that Mike and dad noticed that there was one crab left from the feast and they figured they oughta just throw it in the pot and eat it later.  However, dad never checked to see if there was water in the bottom of the steamer.  The pot ended up dry-cooking the crab causing the fat to bubble out and fall to the bottom of the pot,  Here, the fat burned into a horrible, burnt smell of a mess.  When the pot started spewing smoke, everyone panicked and I thought I had an infection somewhere.

The smell was so strong that we eventually had to leave the house for the evening.  That is how a crab drove me out of my house and also the reason why I always think of MGS3 when I think of crab legs (and vice versa).

Miscellaneous - A Tad NSFW

There are tons of little things I've wanted to draw comics about, but since none of them were long enough I decided to throw them together into one big post.  I may or may not use colours, depends on how hard it would be to read them. Nope.

The Weirdest Dream I Had This Year

I say "this year" because I'm notorious for ridiculous dreams.  This one's just the most recent, plus if features my good friend D.J.Dent!

 

I don't remember what happened after that, just that for the rest of the dream D.J. walked around with the stapler on her face.

A Home Made Porn Flick

Only not really because it's a comic, not a movie.

Recently I paid a visit to my good friend, Lauren, whose dog decided it would be a really good idea to evacuate every ounce of poop from her bowels onto the carpet.  I have never seen so much poop in my entire life.  Being the sweet person she is and wary of my dog allergies, Lauren scrubbed the shit out of that floor (hurrr).  I went into the kitchen to find a cup for some water, but all of the cups, among other things, had mysteriously disappeared when Jamie's ex-girlfriend moved out (like the sugar, for some reason).

Eventually, Jamie offered me a Martini glass.  I filled it up and turned around to find Lauren's ass just starting me in the face.  I looked at my martini glass, the way I was standing, and then back to her on the floor and laughed.

 (I  had to cut and paste those panels, I drew them in the wrong order for some reason.  That's why the margins are off.)

"What are you laughing at?"  Lauren asked.

"Your ass, " I replied.  "This looks like the opening of a bad porno."

After that we made porno jokes back and forth until we found something else to do (rearrange the entire apartment).  However, my mind was still trying to put together a terrible porno based off of the previous event.  This was the result (possibly NSFW):

(Y U NO RIGHT SIZE)

Now, I find porn too hilarious to seriously watch it, so I'm not too sure if that's on the nail or not.  My guess is yes.  Now all I need to do is get into the porn directing business and make a killing. 

Softcore Porn

Again, porn is ridiculously hilarious.  I find sex funny in general, but when people do it on camera and fake the most ridiculous noises it's even better.  Though, some of the funniest porn is actually softcore.  I mean, think about it.  What's more absurd, a librarian dressed like a slut in glasses or dressing a girl like a slut and thinking that glasses suddenly make her look like a librarian?  What about teachers?  Ever meet a hot teacher?  Ever meet a hot teacher who dressed like the girl in the back of class who has self esteem issue and thinks short skirts make everything better?

My favorite softcore situation is the "just woke up" sexy scene.  Not sex, just sexy.  You know, the tousled hair, the see through nightie, that whole thing.  What's so funny about this?  Basically, the fact that waking up in the morning is absolutely nothing like that.

There is nothing sexy about morning breath, eye crusties and bedhead.  I don't know if just me, my long hair, Spencer and his curly hair, but bedhead is basically a giant rats nest that encases your entire head.  Definitely sexy, amirite?

I thought I'd draw a couple different versions of me and Spencer in the morning.  One "softcore" and the other reality.

(I scan like a champ.)

I seriously doubt I'm the only one that wakes up like that.

I understand that softcore porn is more about a fantasy, and fantasies are always ridiculous to everyone but the fantasizer, but the sexy wake up is just preposterous.  Nobody wakes up sexy, and nobody ever will.  I damn near kill Spencer with my morning breath every morning when he leans in to kiss me goodbye and his bed-beard will never cease to amaze me (it's like bedhead for your beard).

Video Games (again)

I say some funny stuff when I play video games.  What's even better is that I imagine the character in the game saying what I am.  I even do this when Spencer plays video games, and he finds it just as hilarious as I do.  I shouted something once that had Spencer and I laughing for a few hours.  It was ridiculous.  At one point I stopped breathing.

I'm very bad at video games.  I love to play them and will do so for hours, I'm just horrible at them.  Because of this, I'm a tad picky about  what games I play and why I play them.  I figure if I'm going to be pulling my hair out because of a video game it might as well be worth it.

That's basically it.  If I can be gay, I'm sold.

Precious to Me

 [Since my tablet is broken I bit the bullet and illustrated this with markers.  You'll probably have the click the images to enlarge and read them :)]

I got into a conversation the other day with Spencer about how pearls are my favorite precious gem.  Later, while speaking to my (ex)manager about the same thing, he interrupted me, saying they were semi-precious.  I replied with slight irritation and not-so-slight twang, "Ah don't cay-ure." and then continued what I was saying.

Personally, I don't care if a gem is precious or not.  In my opinion, pearls aren't even gems, jewels, or anything of the sort.  They're more like. . .hardened mollusk snot.  It's because of this that I like pearls so much.  It's almost ironic that something so beautiful and revered comes from such icky origins.

When a piece of sand or something else weird gets inside of a mollusk's shell, if it's irritating enough to the soft tissue, the mollusk will form a pearl around it by adding layer after layer of some kind of hardened liquid.  That's like a human being making the conscious decision to grow something around the tag of his shirt because it's itchy.

Due to my love of such irony, I actually bought my boyfriend and I something pearl related for valentines day.  Girly, I know, but I wanted to give him something strange, nifty, and romantic.  Pearls do manage hit all of those targets.

While visiting a gift shop in Tarapin, Florida I came across a display of "wishing pearls".  Basically, a company farms pearls inside of clams, takes the clam and preserves it in alcohol, sticks it in a can and packs it in a box with a necklace to put the pearl inside.  You're supposed to open the can, open the clam, take the pearl out and compare it to their "colour chart" to see what your pearl represents.  Unfortunately, both of our pearls were some kind of strange, in-between colour of every colour on the planet.

Then, you are to put the pearl inside of the little necklace and wear it forever.  Spencer made his into a keychain to combat the girliness of the whole concept.  I'm glad, because I was super worried about what he'd think of the pearl.  I bought it more for the experience of finding a pearl inside of something even though the label on the box told me I would.

So worried, in fact, that a week before valentines day I called my mom and asked her whether or not it was downright ridiculous that I bought him the thing in the first place.  I told her why I liked pearls and why I wanted him to have one and she replied, "That's hilarious.  Oysters create pearls by smoothing over something rough in their shell and people give each other gifts on Valentines Day to smooth over rough patches in their relationships."  Suddenly, everything made sense.  Or it would have if Spencer and I ever argued enough to induce gift-apologies.  Most of our arguments are mild, include nothing but grumpy faces, and end in both of us going, "Aaaah, I'm so sorry aaaah."

I think it's because we're so dang compatible.  We just don't have much to argue about.  When we do fight, it's because one of us is stressed out.  They're never bad enough to induce screaming and severe anger.  Which is good because if I could grow pearls around things that irritate me, what would stop me from turning him into a giant statue of hardened mucus?  Not only that, but what would stop me from forming pearls around everything I own?

Pearls may only be semi-precious, but I find them to be the most precious of all shiny and coveted things.  A creature as simple as a mollusk takes something obnoxious and turns it into something humans consider beautiful enough to wear as jewelry.  The mollusk doesn't know this is going to happen; all it cares about is fixing the irritation.

We could learn a lot from this.  Why not try fixing things that bug us instead of dwelling on them?  I could drag an argument out for weeks if I really wanted to.  Instead, I like to quit while I'm ahead, wait to cool down and apologize when I'm not in hyper-mode.  I just wait until I've had time to think, smooth some logic over whatever irritated me in the first place, and wait for it to harden into something more clarifying.

I'd rather not waste my time arguing with the man I love when  every moment I have with him is as precious to me as a hardened glob of mollusk secretions.

Noooo

My tablet it dead, so I can't properly illustrate my posts.  I have a few written and everything, I just can't finish up without my ding danged tablet.  I'd draw the pictures and scan them into the computer, but that kind of defeats the purpose of using paint.  I've found some pretty cheap tablets online, I just don't really have the money right now.  All the money I have in sitting in my dad's closet as a car fund.

The Hat

            Sometimes I wonder if the only reason my boss keeps me around is because I’m entertaining.  Sure, I’m great with the customers and I come up with nifty ideas for the shop, but there has got to be some other reason they put up with my antics.  Time and time again I walk into Richard’s office and ask him if I can do something absurd.  What's even stranger is before I go in there, I come up with information to back up my reasoning.  At times I’ve actually convinced him to let me do some very odd things.

            Though, some of the best stories I have from work I managed to accomplish all on my own.  In fact, just the other day I came across something in the front of the store that enhanced my day by about 75%.  I was digging around the front counter looking for rubber bands or something when I came across something glorious hidden deep in one of the back cabinets.

            It was a hat.  Not just any hat, mind you, a genuine, all American trucker hat.  Best of all, it had the store’s logo on it.  Therefore, my boss had no choice but to let me wear it.

            I couldn’t remember a time where a hat made me so happy.  Then again, I try to get overly excited about everything at work so I’m never bored.  My manager gets super creeped out by it, but in all honesty, he’s never heard me complain about how boring my job is.  “Wow, I can’t believe I have to refill fifty cartridges today.” becomes “This is nice, I get to sit down for a few hours and relax while I refill some cartridges.”

            Now, first thing I did when I found this hat was run into the bathroom and figure out how I was going to wear it all day.  First, I decided to pull my hair through the back in a ponytail.  I had forgotten to bring a hairbow with me to work, so this was beneficial in more ways than one.

            Later, while bending over to get something, my ponytail separated into two pieces and fell over my shoulders.  This happens all the time because my hair is so long, but it had never happened to me while I was wearing an awesome trucker hat.  I didn’t get a look at myself until the next time I used the restroom.  When I did, I laughed so hard it scared the rest of the employees.

            My hair falling to my front paired with my new, blunt-cut bangs and the trucker hat had managed to form a pseudo-mullet.  I’m still not sure why that combination came forth, but I couldn’t stop laughing.
 

            Now, under any other circumstances my hair would not look like a mullet.  My haircut is what I consider to be very fashionable.  It looks like this but about a foot longer (that is not me, by the way).

            I ran around the store reveling in my awesome fake-mullet.  Any time I spoke to one of m superiors I did so in a gruff, southern man-voice peppered with various CB radio terms.  None of it made sense, but that didn’t really matter to me at all.

“Hey, can you refill some PGI-5’s for me?  We’re running low.”  My manager would ask.

“That’s a big 10-4, good buddy.”  I replied.

“O-kay. . .”

            It was glorious.

            When it came time for lunch I realized that I was missing an important part of my trucker appearance.  A moustache.  Going back to the last time my boyfriend and I went grocery shopping I remembered that the market across the street had a bubble machine with fake moustaches inside.  I went super out of my way during my lunch break to acquire one of those.

            You might think that a trip to the grocery store during a thirty minute lunch break isn’t that bad, but it is when you don’t have a car.  I have to run across the highway to get to one road, then cross that road to get to my favorite lunch place.  Now, on top of that, I had to run across another road and all the way to the other side of the shopping center.  All for a moustache.  Worth it?  I think so.

            When I did get to the grocery store’s moustache machine, I lovingly placed my fifty cents into the slots and turned the wheel.  I wasn’t sure what kind of moustache I was going to get, so I was a tad worried that I’d end up with something useless like sideburns.  However, luck was on my side, and I received the most magnificent of moustaches that could possibly come with a sticker on the back.

            I high-tailed it back to the store, clocked in and donned my new facial hair.  My trucker persona was complete.  Now, every CB radio phrase I shouted at my coworkers had so much more meaning behind it.  I felt at peace with the world for the first time in days.

 
           Of course, my boss made it very clear that he didn’t care if I wore the moustache in the store just as long as I didn’t wear it in front of customers.  I was a bit disappointed, but I understood.  While my coworkers were used to me being excessively weird in the back of the store, the customers saw the customer service side of myself.

 

Luckily I’ve turned transforming between weird-me and professional-me an art.

Mascara

I was going through an old purse of mine and found this little comic strip.

I'll write a nice, long post after these dad-gummed holidays are over <3