Sunday, July 30, 2006

"That's where we live."

In 1984, I used to listen to Z-100 a lot. I ripped the knob off, just like they told me. So I heard the Morning Zoo's spoof show, Miami Mice, where squeaky voices would explain, "'Cause that's where we live," and it was the height of hilarity for my sleep-deprived day.

I own the Miami Vice soundtrack. I'm not ashamed to say Crockett's Theme was a song I played to death and would listen to right now were it not a few minutes' of work away from me. I play Grand Theft Auto: Vice City regularly. I *heart* Phil Collins. The video to Smuggler's Blues by Glenn Frey was, in my opinion, a good story.

So why do I not like the television show Miami Vice? Was it the cheesy remakes of songs they couldn't get the rights to? Maybe. Was it that I just didn't like a single thing about the show except the theme and the frikkin' flamingos? Well, yeah, but I can't use "I didn't like it," as a reason for why I didn't like it, because for all purposes, I should have liked it.

The idea of the new movie interests me even less. Although the remake of In The Air Tonight amuses me.

I may belong to the city, I may belong to the night, but if I want to hear Strict Machine, I'm just going to

When are they going to make a movie based on Banana Splits?

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Behind the previous post.

I got The Reflux, and it's not so much in charge of finding treasure in the dark as it is responsible for finding what I ate three days ago and letting me relive it a little, in reverse. Like Twin Peaks.

Had it, among other things, all my life. No cause for alarm, unless I happen to be standing behind you or directly above you.

Monday, July 24, 2006


Here is something I never thought about: coffee, which goes down rather warm, cools in the digestive system. Really.

I already knew cold coffee doesn't taste so great, but cold coffee leaving me through my nose is just an extra level of bad that I could have lived many more years without ever having experienced.

Saturday, July 22, 2006

Two complaints on a rainy day.

Can someone explain why Adobe Reader 7.0.8 needs 64MB of my disk drive?

And what is with XXL dog clothes being a size that could fit my cats? I look up a perfectly cute pink polka-dot dress for my puppy, just so she can look cute as she's mauling us in the street, and the size wouldn't fit her head.

It appears as though I need to find me some PDF dog clothes patterns.

I have the fabric and the technology, I can do it.

I can humiliate my puppy.

And put that ridiculously bloated Adobe Reader to work.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Nothing says "Merry Christmas" more.

Obi-wan Kenobi pouring his heart out to his ungrateful friend will bring back endless memories of past family gatherings by the fireside, I'm sure.

Click that link, watch the video. Until you watch the video, you cannot comprehend the total insanity of this ornament.

I'm just sorry I can't bloody afford it, otherwise that thing would be here on my desk, right next to my Christmas tree watch that plays the Lambada. I doubt anything could ever top my Lambada Christmas tree watch, though. Except maybe the flying mallard that plays Jingle Bells.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Call Alanis Morrissette, I have experienced irony!

I recently wrote about going honest with my fonts, for some prints I wanted to make money with. I kept going until I found a font I liked that I could use honestly.

Tragically, when I uploaded the scans of my prints to Etsy, they didn't resize them down from the big-ass high-rez versions that can be printed flawlessly.

So I might have given out around 350 free drawings, and gotten not so much as a thank you.

I just wrote to Etsy and suggested they protect idiots like me in the future with a big warning against uploading their originals instead of a smaller, crappier version, which I have now replaced my drawings with.

I have learned a hard lesson, and it might have cost me the balance of a few bills we haven't gotten to pay off yet.

Enjoy the free art! You could've written, you could've said, "Hey, I'm poor, can I just bum a copy?" and I would've sent it gladly, just happy to know someone liked my crappy art. But no, now I'm bitter at you. Whoever you may be.

What would really crack me up is if no one thought to save a copy illegally, and all those views were just to verify that yeah, my art sucks.

Then again, I take this as a sign that I've repaid my karmic debt for all those MP3s.

Got a call from a Sith Lord....

Oh Hell Yes. Darth Vader is a maniac.


Monday, July 17, 2006


Star Wars on Earth.

Too hot for me to say anything more. My mouse finger has melted away.

Friday, July 14, 2006

How I spent my formative years.

PBS, bless them, introduced me to the world of British comedy at a young age. MTV took that a step further in the late '80s with, among other things, A Fistful of Traveler's Cheques.

(I found this clip the other day, hence the subject line of my last post. Always loved those gunslinging bastards.)


Monday, July 10, 2006

"I think...I think I'm getting a sun tan."

There is something undeniable about me, and that is that I should not be exposed to sunlight. Another undeniable fact is that if insanity is doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result, I am completely insane.

I am also not quite completely tan, but slightly gradient.

From my bird-chasing, puppy-wrangling, cat-protecting, plant transplating escapades, the back of my neck is quite brown. I checked to make sure it wasn't dirt or hair dye, and it is, in fact, the only bit that always gets hit with the sun, so my neck is really tan. My back is not. Neither is my face. So I kinda look like the Ultimate Hair Queen Amidala doll, except for the hair and snappy clothes. Yes, I have red spots on my face; no, I did not apply them. I also have farmer's tan. That's when half your arm gets a tan, and the rest is as pale as the other bits that are usually covered.

My legs are corpse white, except for the mosquito bites and puppy teeth bruises. My knees, you may have guessed, are as tan as my arms.

I think I've given enough of a vision to you all today, and I part with these words:

Protect your trees, and they will protect you...unless they die and fall on you.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

How it really happened.

Porkins destroyed the Death Star.

[EDIT] Lucasfilm took offense with my interpretation. Look for an updated link here soon.


Monday, July 03, 2006

Don't piss off Mama Bird.

Did I ever tell the story of how I became a liberal? Once upon a time, before West Nile Virus and termites took most of the birds and trees from our area, there was a red-tailed hawk in my tree. It was pretty stunning. They're big.

I mentioned it online, and someone made a crack that I should cook it. I responded in turn with my own crack about my neighbor who used to shoot at the ravens in our tree.

Apparently, calling the neighbor a looney did not go over well with a troll who knew how to keep his posts from being archived. I wasn't making the neighbor up, I couldn't, it's too bizarre (I think he eventually shot at something bigger than a bird, because they moved not long after). As the discussion went on, the troll called me a liberal, and I think he expected me to die of shame. I did not. And that is how I became a liberal.

Leaping ahead a few years, when the only birds left in the area are blue jays, I found myself swinging at one with a branch from my forsythia today. I believe I may have called the bird a few names the ornithologists union has not approved.

These birds are annoying my cats, you see. Never mind that the cats stare at them and do the feline equivalent of wolf whistles, these birds are capable of eye-pecking, and are threatening my cats, and so I flipped out ninja-stlye with a branch. I'd cut the branch, along with a lot of vines, in an attempt to remove the welcome mat for the blue jays.

I also very nearly severed my left thumb, but I'm used to doing shit like that. Luckily, I'd just cleaned my clippers the other day, and they're not nicked, so it was a clean slice. I can still work my mouse, as long as I keep the thumb tightly bandaged, so all is right with the world.

Still enjoying the Depeche Mode music, although if they play Devotional at 10 o'clock again, I will jump on a blue jay, take it up to space, and beat the satellite senseless with the largest branch I can find.

Saturday, July 01, 2006

Enjoy The Silence.

How humorous would it have been to just leave the blog with a video of singing pills and the obscure message, "I should have listened."

Even I was starting to get visions of myself passed out under the desk, aspirating my own puke and mumbling the words to We're Not Candy. Either that, or I was recalling my ninth year. Hmm.

I've been doing a lot of behind-the-scenes tweaking on my webpages, I have finally discovered RSS and Atom and so everything I'm writing here will show up in a little blurb at the bottom of my comic page, along with the latest from the LiveJournal that goes with the comic, and any new items in my Etsy shop.

I draw some edgy things, man. Someday, when I'm dead, it'll all be worth something.

I haven't been able to fit blogging into my schedule, because I'm currently working on a creative project purely for fun. Shocking. It'll be up on the 5th. Must meet the deadline, or else it will make no sense at all. Unless I put it off until next year, and by then I may be taken by the green-glowing, Death Mark-launching tainted McNuggets which featured heavily in a dream I had this morning.

I am listening to the 96-hour Depeche Mode extravaganza on Sirius First Wave. I love everything Depeche Mode has ever done, so I'm enjoying it. I haven't even gotten tired of hearing Devotional over and over yet, even though 101 is better.

The happy, spaced-out song that TMPGEnc plays when it's done with a file scares me sometimes. It wafts in through the Depeche Mode and makes me think I'm being taken by tainted processed food.

The file is done, Depeche Mode is wrapping up their set, and my train of thought has been derailed. But I now have an extra gig free on my drive. That is what I call a successful waste of time.