There Ain't No Sanity Clause

Khakis Will Kill your Soul & your Sense of Empathy

2012-02-17T12:32:00.009-05:00

I am dressed like an adult today. What I mean by this statement is that I'm wearing a minimum of black, and I'm not dressed like I stole the clothes off some poor girl who discovered 80s punk and 90s grunge fashions at the same time. Also, I'm wearing khakis. In my mind, khakis are the epitome of "adult/business casual fashion"; pants that are so dull, uninspired and boring that the only rational reason anyone could have for wearing them is as part of a uniform.

I have to wear them to work, because I was asked specifically to wear khakis and not jeans (even though everyone ELSE gets to wear jeans, including the owner). They "look more professional," I was told. I've decided that "looking more professional" is code for "looking like your soul and sense of induviduality has been crushed." Think I'm exaggerating for the sake of comedy? Next time you're in Target, take a good, hard look at the employees and tell me they don't look like their souls have been slowly ground down into a fine dust.

I'm also wearing some blue.

Along with this pathetic excuse of an ensamble I have a sinus infection that has blessed me with new bestie and constant companion I like to call Stephen the headache. I hate Stephen, but over the past 4 days, he's been disturbingly loyal.

This has made me very grumpy. Kick a baby grumpy. Hate on laughing children, and frolicking kittens, and singing nuns grumpy. I'm also fairly certain that after 4 consecutive days of having a migraine, I am no longer legally responsible for my actions. If you have a baby, or a laughing child, or a frolicking kitten, or a singing nun you'd like kicked, now is the time to ask.

I'll even wear my khakis while I do it. You know. So, it looks nice and professional.

Hourly Comics 2012

2012-02-08T01:36:00.008-05:00

Twitter: Causing Vincent To Get a Soul & Eep To Get Laid

2011-12-08T13:43:00.011-05:00

Right. So it's my day off, and I've been drinking. Don't look at me like that. It's well after noon, and that's the kinda day I've had. I'm only on the schedule for 25 hours this week, 10 hours next week, and then I'm not working until after New Year's. This is going to make fun, recreational, holiday things like paying rent and eating an interesting challenge this month. So when I drive to the grocery store this morning and discover a screw in my tire, it kinda ruins my day. And yes, I'm sure it says something about me that I've been eating pasta, cheap tuna and saltines all week, but that I still managed to scrape enough together to buy beer. You're very clever.

Wow...

I had a point when I started writing this, but fucked if I know what that was. So, looks like you guys are getting treated to free-form brain diarrhea. Lucky you.

TWITTER. I could talk about what I've been doing on Twitter so it doesn't seem like I just got drunk and logged onto my blog to be grumpy and abusive. If you follow me on Twitter, you may have noticed that during the month of October, I ran a "Twitter Only" Strange Fiction story. I'm not really sure what I intended it to be originally, but it ended up mutating into something entirely different, and entirely more awesome, thanks entirely to @MousetheDJ (who started out as a real person; now I'm not so sure). She jumped into the story and eventually ended up sacrificing her Twitter account to the Gods of Fiction. It was a fun, and often incredibly challenging, bit of fly-by-your-seat, no-editing-allowed exercise that was as much improv as it was fiction writing.

October 31st rolled around, and we wrapped up the story and then... Well, nothing. Both my co-writer and I currently have jobs where we have long stretches of down time. We found we missed the challenge, the character interaction, and most of all, the distraction.

So, we've kept it up. What the fuck are we doing? We have no idea. It's been fun. It's caused DRAMA! (capital letters and exclamation point and all). And, best of all, it's caused a rekindling of passion for these characters and their stories that I thought trying to slog through the Dread Steampunk Storyline had killed in me. So, think of this as a rough 1st draft, a hashing out of potential ideas, an expanding of characters and backstories (Vincent especially has gained a history and personality FAR more complex than anything I ever had planned for him). The best bits will eventually make it into the comic, and the rest, well, if you're really curious or a huge completionist, they're all here. Waiting for your perusal and disapproval.

Plus, if it wasn't for the Twitter Stream Tales, I would have never drawn this:

So there's that.

Eep in a Loincloth: Enough to Fire Up the Internet Hate Machine

2011-11-28T09:25:00.008-05:00

If you follow me on Google+, you've seen the shitstorm I caused when the following Twitter exchanged insulted some people.

(A bit of background: Eep and his girlfriend were attending Gothsgiving at the alt/goth club where they both work, and it was the dress code was gothic Pilgrims or gothic Natives.)

Then, things exploded. And this is my response. I'm posting it here for easy linking.

OK, a couple of quick things. Thanks to everyone who has come to my aid in this whole matter. I appreciate that you guys feel the need to defend me. D’awwww! Hugs all around.

Thanks to everyone who also has slapped me around on this issue. I understand why you’re doing it. You like my work, and in turn, that makes you want to potentially like me as a person. And, you don’t want me, a person you want to potentially like, to have what you consider a backwards/racist/inconsiderate/whatever viewpoint on an issue you feel strongly about. I totally get it. And yes, I agree that racist stereotypes are shitty and terrible. But (and you knew there was a but), I don’t feel that’s what I did here, so we ain’t gonna agree on whether or not what I did was racist and shitty.

But I get it; you don’t to think of me as racist and shitty, because you wanna potentially like me. (Hell, I want you to potentially like me.) So, d’awwww! Hugs all around.

There were a couple of points I was trying to make with this post. None of which I made very affectively. Clearly. I can try to blame the sleep deprivation that comes along with insomnia or the fact that I was trying to bang out a response before I go to work (like I am now), but it doesn’t really matter at this point. I mean, I could just go back and edit that entry until my points are clear (I love you for allowing me to do that, Google+), but I probably won’t, because I really just want this whole thing to die. Painfully. Possibly, in a fire. A fire made of burning knives and dog poop. That’s a terrible kind of fire.

The truth of the matter is that I have enough Real Life Drama and would like to avoid slapping Internet Drama on top of it. So consider the matter dropped from my end. We’ll just have to agree not to agree.

HOWEVER, I will apologize for one thing. I was also called out for referring to that anon comment as “Hate Mail.” The original commenter pointed out that it wasn’t intended to be that, and s/he is right. It wasn’t really hate mail. I used the term because I thought it was funny. So, mea culpa for that.

Also, I’m still amused as hell that, of all things, THIS is what caused a shit storm. I mean… I’m the one whose version of a Heartwarming Family Scene involved a father telling his depressed 15 y/o son to smoke rather than commit suicide.

The world is a strange and wondrous place.

The Post in which our Heroine Defends the Working Creative*

2011-10-24T17:18:00.001-04:00

Since I've been asked to write more (and by "asked" I mean by one person; hey, it's enough), I'm writing more, and I'm writing about an issue that's been rattling around in my head for a while. (And by "for a while" I mean since 5 am when my brain decided it had had enough of that sleep bullshit.)

If there is someone out there producing creative work that you like, work that you read/listen to/watch, and that work is less involved than it used to be, or the quality has slipped, or the production slows to a crawl (ahem), or it takes a turn you don't like, or goes in a direction you don't like, or you just flat-out prefer the way that creator used to do things: STFU.

No. Seriously. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

I will make an exception for situations where the creator asks specifically for feedback on the new direction/look/style/hat/whatever. Did the creator say, "Hey! How do you guys like this new direction? I'd love your feedback"? Yes? Awesome! Send her/him an email. Hell, send a thousand emails detailing every last thought in your head! Include graphs and diagrams to illustrate your point. That's what s/he wants.

However, unless your opinion is requested, specifically requested, unless you hear those magic words "what do you think," keep your fool mouth closed.

I'm going to let you in on a little Trade Secret here. (PROTIP TIME!) Ready? Aside from a very, very VERY small percentage of us who are insanely talented/lucky/both, most of us make NO MONEY creating the stuff we share with you.

Yeah. I know. It's hard to believe, but most of that free content you enjoy on the internet brings no actual money to the person creating it. Zero. Ziltch. Nadda. Crazy, isn't it? I mean, even those of us who are mildly famous, who are respected and well known in our niche circles aren't rich. (I am NOT including myself in that group, FYI. I'm not even mildly noteworthy.) Fuck, even those people REALLY well-known in niche circles aren't banking mad coin.

"Ok. So what," you say. "What does that have to do with the topic at hand? MAKE SENSE, WOMAN!"

It means, that most of the time when there's a noticeable shift in theme, or when there's a retooling, or when there's a pulling back of effort or energy into a project, it's because the creator needs to pull back for reasons that have nothing to do with the work s/he is creating.

Remember a million years ago when I was doing those awesome, full-color steampunk comics? Those were neat, weren't they? Yeah. They should be. They also took me 10+ hours to do. I was staying up until 4 am to finish the comics, and getting up at 7 to be at work. While I was working 45-48+ hours a week. While I was stressed out because I was the only one with a job in our household. While I was trying to work out how to grieve another death in my family. And while a million other little things got in the way.

I would have LOVED to keep doing comics like that. Hell, I tried. Instead, what I did manage to do was break myself. I broke my update schedule, lost the majority of my audience, and generally made an ass out of myself as a cartoonist. (I make an ass out of myself as a person all the time, but that's a different entry.) Years later, and I'm still trying to work out how to get back to working on the comic regularly and still be a happy, functioning member of society. Relatively speaking, of course.

I'm not saying you have to like whatever new direction you don't like. Not at all. Hell, you can loathe it. You can hate it with the burning hot fires of 1,000 Tatooine suns. Shit son, liking the "old" stuff better is so common it's cliche (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/NewSoundAlbum &http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheyChangedItNowItSucks). But TRUST ME, you don't need to tell us that. We'll notice. We'll see our site traffic slow, our audience dwindle and our Facebook likes evaporate. We check that kind of shit. In fact, we check that kind of shit compulsively. We will notice. And, if we're able, we'll change for the better.

And you know what? If the quality has been lacking, we know that too. Creative people are the most critical motherfuckers of their own work in the known universe. If you could harness that self-loathing, and convert it into a viable energy source, we could run the planet on it.

Being emotionally invested in a piece of work does not mean that you get an automatic pass to voice your opinion. I know it seems harsh to say that, especially if you love something, especially when you've loved something from the beginning, but that's the way it is.

Real Life gets in the way. It gets in the way a lot. And no amount of snide commentary, bitchy emails, or entrities to do things they way they used to be done will change that. In fact, it's more likely to do the opposite. It's far easier to quit than to pour your money, energy, blood, sweat, and bile into what is, essentially, an unpaid part-time job. And no one wants that. Not you, the audience, and not me, the creator. We create this shit because we love it and we want to share it with other people who will love it too.

Don't ruin it for all of us.

*Know that by "Working Creative," I mean someone who creates work that you enjoy who also holds down a job not related to the work which you enjoy. For a blog post defending the Professional Creative, see Neil Gaiman's much better "George RR Martin is not your bitch" post.

Wait, I Was Giving a Fuck BEFORE?

2011-01-14T17:25:00.001-05:00

I read this blog linked by @MissMonster when I first woke up this morning. (Note how it says, "The Complete Guide To Not Giving a Fuck." Nice.)

There was a lot there of which I needed to be reminded. I've spent too, too long being shell-shocked and hurt by the past couple of years. Fuck that noise.

So, I buzzed down the sides of my head as short as I wanted them this AM. (I may go shorter, but I don't want side-head-burn. We'll see.) I figure, if my boss is too awkward to mention what she sees as a bad haircut, I'm going to use that to my advantage. Plus, I'm a shift leader at a yogurt shop. Come on. It's not like I'm going to be doing this job for the rest of my life. I'm not getting a 401k or health insurance or any other benefits other than enough money to live from this job.

Plus, I've already proven I'm an asset (my boss DOES NOT want to have to fire me and start running the shop again herself, I can tell), so why am I trying to behave?

My (Very Late) 1 Feb 2010 Hourly Comics

2010-02-09T23:27:00.002-05:00

Lazy Cartooning 101: Recaption Old Editorial Cartoons To Appear More Talented & Clever Than You Are

2010-01-19T01:06:00.003-05:00

(It's not.)

Apologies to Winsor McCay who is a much better cartoonist than I.

I have to admit, for Spam, it was pretty well written.

2010-01-14T23:40:00.002-05:00

This was a comment left on my blog this afternoon, and it amused the hell out of me. Yep. I'm 12 mentally; dick and fart jokes all the way, baby!

Hey guys!

I know some folks here who have gotten results with Male-Extra penis enhancement pills. Im just about to order as i've been hearing amazing results with it. But first off, I want to know if Male Extra does it work as good as they say it does?

I know 1-2 inches Penis growth is realistic and easily accomplished. But I'd like REAL FAST penis growth in the 5 inches range. Dont laugh, I want to have the best penis growth possible because my new girlfriend dated a friggin porn stud!

Guys here know what im talking about?

I want...no make that I NEED to know the best way to enlarge Penis. Male-extra pills promises 3 inches growth within several weeks or they return your money. So I guess that essentially means, if my penis dont grow real fast? They lose money, coz I got to use the pills at the same time get my money back right?

Does this seem like a scam?

Please reply at the soonest possible time!
I need to make a decision fast!

Im already sold on it to be honest, but I just need that one last push so I dont put this off any longer.

The advertisement for the pill I last saw at this site. I hope its still there.

K guys thanks. Hope to hear your feedback alright? Bye :D

It's the Holidays! Have some Bowie.

2009-12-25T15:09:00.002-05:00

Sure, it's a toned-down, family-friendly, coked-up David Bowie, but I'd still shuck him like an oyster.

Have a very merry, everyone! I hope the upcoming year is full of awesome for all of us.

P.S. It's 84 degrees outside today. Fuck you, Florida!

Illustration Friday: Blur

2009-11-11T22:58:00.002-05:00

As inspired by Eccentric Fest weekend, and the OBSCENE amount of absinthe that was consumed in its wake.

Sure He's Cute... Until He Crams That Wand Up Your Poopshoot

2009-10-02T03:25:00.003-04:00

In an attempt to cheer me up, and keep me from posting morose motherfucking twats on Twitter, the mad genius behind Gothy Beans was kind (and productive) enough to use a bought of insomnia to sketch up this fairy-tastic fan art of Voodoo Ed.

How awesome is that?

The only thing I manage to do during a bought of insomnia is lie in bed cursing god's name. This is much nicer.

Thank you!

So, I'm sure you guys have noticed the slightly more steamy Strange Fiction story arc starting up in honor of the best holiday of them all. What do you think?

Steampunk Portraits (Sketches & Finals)

2009-09-23T23:36:00.005-04:00

These are the portraits I've been working on to help fund my trip to this year's Eccentrik Fest. If you would like one of your own, I would certainly love to put one together for you. :D

Can't Sleep. Bears Will Eat Me.

2009-08-19T15:04:00.003-04:00

Today's sketch was inspired by the Clockwork Cabaret, bringing you music o' the gears for steampunk ears. I'm lucky (and stalkerish enough) to be able to call the amazing Sisters Davenport friends.

'Tis the Season...

2009-08-12T11:22:00.001-04:00

Have I mentioned that I hate hurricane season, because yeah. I hate hurricane season.

More Random Sketches

2009-08-11T23:58:00.004-04:00

Can you tell I was watching Hammer films while sketching last night?

St. Ed Wood

Strange Fiction: Kickin' It Old School

2009-08-10T13:30:00.004-04:00

I know. I know. Apologies to those of you who have seen this twice already on Twitter and Facebook, but I'm actually proud of it, so suck it up and deal. Brush tipped markers and I have never been friends. I've never been able to coax decent line work out of them, and my tendency to push as HARD AS GODLY POSSIBLE on the marker means I shatter the brush nib within a few uses. I decided to try my hand at inking the comic the old fashioned way with a brush, pen and a bottle of ink.

In a few words: I like it. And, I think I'll start using it for the comic from this point forward.

Why don't I come up with jokes this good?

2009-08-02T15:29:00.003-04:00

You may have noticed that the comic up on Strange Fiction this week isn't mine.

You're slick. I can't get anything past you, can I?

That's because it's time for the 5th Annual Eyeskream Comic Swap a contest run every year that gives you the chance to win your very own commissioned piece of art from the participating cartoonist of your choice!

Run! Bike! Fly your zeppelin over to the site for all the details.

Bags o' Cocks & Why You Shouldn't Google Image Search

2009-06-30T23:50:00.008-04:00

The ever amazing Jared over at Head Injury Theater was tickled enough by a recent comic, to continue where I left off. As you can see from my responses, things became horrible, rapidly.

This is why you shouldn't encourage me, folks.

As if that wasn't enough WTF for one blog post, I found the below image. (I decline to comment how I found this image, but that's hardly the point.)

It totally isn't Vincent, but holy fuck does it look like him or what? I have, as a matter of fact, received a piece of fan art I like to call the "pity porn" depicting an illicit liaison between Eep and Vincent, but that still doesn't mean stumbling across this late at night didn't cause me to do a triple-take.

WTF is up with YOU Lady A?

2009-06-17T00:14:00.005-04:00

I never thought I'd be doing an installment of WTF about myself.

Although I suspected.

So, as you can tell from the lack of content this week, the comic hasn't been --uh-- reliable lately. Yeah. We'll go with "reliable."

There are a lot of long, boring and pathetically emo reasons why, but the biggest (and most emo) of the lot has been good old fashioned stress. Ducky lost his job 7 (emo) months ago, and hasn't been able to replace it. It's stretched our bank account and my emotional (read: emo) state as far as they can go without either total financial ruin and/or complete mental meltdown.

To put it briefly: both my bank account and psyche have (emo) stretchmarks*.

Last week, I had the comic all but finished when I was involved in a minor fender-bender. It wasn't serious (or emo): some scrapes on the bumper and some lingering stiffness for two days. So even I was surprised when this made me have a drama-fest of gargantuan proportions. (You thought I was going to say "emo" didn't you?) It made me come to a hard decision about the comic. One that I've been avoiding.

I'm going to have to tool back Strange Fiction, and in a major way. I've kept saying I was going to do this, but I've resisted. Partly because I'm finally almost (almost) satisfied with the direction the comic is taking, and partly because I'm a stubborn bitch of a woman. I don't want to do less with the comic, I want to do more. I'm both furious and frustrated I'm unable to do that. I didn't want to admit to myself that Strange Fiction had become a burden.

But, I also don't want to burn myself out to the point where I can no longer produce the comic, and if I continue along this path, I'm afraid that's just what will happen. So, that's where we are, kids. Indulge my emoness a bit longer, and sooner or later, we'll get back to a place we can all enjoy.

* If you've made it this far through the blog, you deserve a reward. Would you like a terrible "Your mom" joke? Too bad! That's what you're getting.

"Both my bank account and psyche have stretchmarks, just like your mom's ass."

Thank you! I'll be here all week!

WtF: 1Nt3rN3t sp33k

2009-04-30T17:56:00.006-04:00

I submitted some of my WtF rants as writing samples to Coilhouse Magazine. (Yes. You should totally hold your breath waiting for my name to pop up in there.) But, re-reading some of those old posts got me itching to do another installment. So, without further ado, I give you...

WtF: 1Nt3rN3t sp33k

It seems as though the craze for iDioTic cApiTaliZatioNs has died a death we can only hope was riddled with pain and phlegm. Likewise, I've seen less and less l33t speak. That's not to say the internet has become a bastion of sensibility and punctuation, and the Queen's English can once again roam the byways of the interwebs without worrying about being bludgeoned, dragged into a dark corner, and repeatedly violated in the most horrifying of manners. We *all* know that ain't true.

No, it's just as with most obnoxious, pointless trends, the twitchy caps lock use and numerology speak have gone the way of Avril Lavigne. The only folks I see still using these early incarnations of "individualistic" (read: idiotic) interpretations of remedial typing skills are do doubt over-weight, middle-aged, and trying desperately to convince the people on the other end of the computer screen that they are, in fact, 13 year old girls.

As the oLd has fallen out of favor and "lulz" has become a word people now say *out fucking loud*, new, equally annoying counterparts have taken their places. Maybe I'm just a touch over-reactionary, but this shit is like bamboo shoots under my fingernails. Forget waterboarding. If the US Government ever wanted to get information out of me using "extreme interrogation techniques," they'd wire my eyes open, Clockwork Orange style, and send me to a Jonas Brothers forum.

Noun Fail
I don't have a problem with "fail" when it's used with the unwritten pronoun "you." Fat guy on a little moped trying to look cool? (You) Fail. However, hearing someone in *Real Life* say, "Zoh my gawd! That shirt is fail," made me want to spend years studying human pain receptors just so I could find new and interesting ways to HURT THAT GIRL. No. The shirt is not "fail." It is a *failure*. Do you see the difference there? Do you see that little "-ure" on the end? That's what turns "fail" the VERB into "failure" the NOUN. If you can't be trusted to use the English language properly, we're going to take it away from you (by cauterizing the speech centers of your brain with a laser).

"First. / First comment. / Oh PLEASE god, let someone notice me."
Remember when you were a kid in summer, and the ice cream man would come rattling down the street, and you would run screaming to your parents for change, so that you could get a cool, frosty treat? Do you remember that one sweaty, farts-smelling kid who would rush the ice cream truck *before* he had any damn money just so he could be the first in line, and you would have to stand there behind his stinky, cabbage-smelling ass while his little brother ran to the house to try to wrangle together some dimes? Remember him? Didn't you want to smash his face into the pavement? People that race to hit the "comment" button just so that they can post "FIRST" are the internet equivalents of that kid. They all deserve curbies, without exception.

"This."
Firstly, let's just ignore that fact that "this" isn't a sentence. It's not even the skeleton of a sentence. I know it's hard, but we can ignore that glaring, irritating fact and move on to the next point. ::ahem:: Secondly, if "this" is your idea of a reward for an intelligent, well-written post, then you're a fucking moron. It's the even less erudite cousin of the dreaded "me too!" What the imbecilic offender is *really* saying is "Wow. That was a thoughtful response, and I agree with its content. However, rather than expand upon your thoughts, or continue the conversation in any real way, I'm just going to quote your post and use a demonstrative pronoun in a nonsensical way. Why have depth when I can just ride the coattails of the more verbally gifted?" Or, they would be saying that if they could stop loading up their hard drive with hardcore Pokemon yaoi for long enough to string a series of words together coherently.

Now, I know that because I'm a 32 year old woman, the fact that I've blogged about these expressions will guarantee that they will whither and die and be used by pedophiles in a matter of days. (You can thank me later.) Tragically, my irritation will not be wrapped in plastic and dumped in a Wal*Mard parking lot along with these linguistic abortions. Like some screaming insufferable hydra, yet another, more exasperating expression, will rise from the gelatinous, undulating body of the internet, shake its scaly head free of afterbirth, and proceed to aggravate the ever livin' balls out of me in less time then it will take me to figure out how to (finally) upload blog posts directly to my website.

::sigh:: Say it with me, kids. What the fuck?

I'm not stupid enough to question questionable kindness.

2009-04-27T11:45:00.002-04:00

Remember a few months ago when I mentioned John, Computer Rivet Extraordinaire, who frankensteined me together a new desktop? (Yes, "frankensteined" is a word. It is *now* at any rate.) Well, not content with merely being awesome, he decided he had to be Pants Poopingly Epically Awesome. With capital letters and everything.

He gave us a new (to us) laptop. You read that right: GAVE US. As in "gave." As in "for free."

I was so in shock, I didn't know what to say. I still don't. I don't know what the fuck we did to convince him we were worthy of such a benefactor. It probably had something to do with helping them bury that body in the Everglades. Let's just hope he doesn't realize what losers we are and take it all back any time soon.

John, Oodlez, rest assured, I will take the secret about the shaved wombats with me to the grave.

I'm a St. Valentine's Day Asshole

2009-02-27T14:26:00.005-05:00

Don't ask me how I managed to do it, but I managed to do it. M sent me the seriously awesome and utterly adorable Valentine below, and I completely forgot to post it along with a public note of thanks. I suddenly remembered it when I was brushing my teeth this morning.

I told you, don't ask me how I did it.

M, I'm so, so sorry. Would a public flogging make it better? No? ... Can we do it anyway?

Fop or Fag? Does it matter? It's ALL sexy!

2009-02-20T01:31:00.006-05:00

As many of you know (or now know if you read the blog below the comic), this week's Strange Fiction is Adam & the Ants inspired. Did you know that back in the 80s, people were convinced Adam Ant was gay?

Hard to believe isn't it? It's not like that video is chock full of steamy homoeroticism, half naked men, and lip gloss.

Nope. No sir.

Excuse me. I think I have to go fan myself or something equally Victorian.

Where the hell is the web site?

2009-02-12T20:49:00.003-05:00

If you've been following my posts today on Twitter, then you know where I've been firmly laying the blame for the lack of Strange Fiction-y goodness being streamed into your eyeballs: Troll 2.

The sad truth of the matter is that it wasn't goblins intent on turning me into a giant pile of veggie-based mush (complete with boobs!) so they can eat me.

I neglected to update my web host with my new billing info when it changed, and completely forgot to pay for my hosting this month (whoops!). I did so last night, but it's been two days, and the site is still down.

I have an email in to GoDaddy's "sales assistance team" (we will gladly assist you in BUYING OUR SHIT!), but so far the only response has been, "Someone will get back to you within 24 hours."

::sigh::

Hopefully, I'll be back up and running tomorrow.

Technical issues abound...

2009-02-06T09:22:00.003-05:00

Technical issues that involve me screaming, "How the fuck do you upload the files on this mishugina new Dreamweaver?!? Mother PUSS Bucket!"

The comic is up, and should have all the remaining small updates finished tonight.

Yes, I did totally broadcast myself drawing the comic while I was working on it. It wasn't exactly riveting stuff, I'm afraid. But I did do it. And I apparently made REALLY goofy faces. Especially while inking.

Now, moving on to talk about someone WAY more interesting on camera than yours truly, did you guys know Lux Interior died? I found out about it yesterday morning. Ducky left a Cramps CD on the kitchen table with a note that read, "Lux died. Liesten to this on the way into work."

I would say, "Rest in peace," but somehow I think Lux would have wanted to come back as a zombie. The world is a less interesting place without him.

Watch me update Strange Fiction Late LIVE!

2009-02-04T00:30:00.002-05:00

Call it an experiment in making an ass out of myself. I'm playing around with streaming live video of me working on the comic.

What do you think? Interesting? Boring? Brilliant? So painfully vain you don't even want to dignify me with a response?

Streaming Video by Ustream.TV

P.S. That video gets slightly more tolerable in the middle when my cat jumps into my lap.

I get by with a little help from my friends.

2009-01-26T23:16:00.005-05:00

I think I need to create an Official "Strange Friends of Strange Fiction" page.

Not only did half-crazed German rivet (and cook extraordinaire) John and the gorgeous knit-machine Oodlz help me come up with this week's title, but they built me a damn computer out of the pirated parts of lesser machines!

There was concern that my current jerry-rigged (read: crap) system was going to die on me. Wait. Die is the wrong word. "Explode in a fiery hellfire death" is more closely akin to the fear I had for my computers' inevitable shared fate. This was unacceptable to John and Oodlz. "That dog will not hunt, monsignor," they said as one.

And in a fit of generosity, the presented me with the following machine, Vinent VonComp:

Sylin' in the new art dumpster:

Now all I need is another new harddrive and a new soundcard, and I'll actually have a reliable workstation capable of enduring the abuse I put it through.

It's a miracle!

Thank you John and Oodlz, from both me and all 5 of my readers who can continue to enjoy Strange Fiction for years to come due to your godlike natures.

I have not (yet) joined a cult.

2009-01-19T15:30:00.006-05:00

I feel like I ought to touch base with you guys, since I haven't been the most visible of Ladies of lates.

We've had a series of unfortunate events here at Casa de Attercop that coupld make the Baudelaire orphans flinch. In addtion, like a good portion of the country, the economy pushed me down, stole my lunch money, and has been proceeding to noogie, Indian burn and pink-belly the living shit out of me. To make matters more Dickensesque, my other half Ducky lost his job right before Thanksgiving, and I've been working extra hours to keep us afloat at a job that has become increasingly demanding.

On the up side, it's given me plenty of material with which to work, although it is a tad bit odd to reference something in the comic that I'm actively struggling with. This is a strange, strange narcissistic thing I do.

But, enough of the whining! What's up for the next year?

I hate to make predictions since I usually have more Grand Plans than follow-through, but there may (may) be more Strange Fic podcasts in the future. Now would be an excellent time to discuss the dangers of rock and roll music with your children.

I'm also working on a Super Secret Project that could be only slightly combustible. Time will tell.

So, no death cults just yet, but I'm not ruling it out as a possibility for the future. 2009 is a whole new year, after all!

Requested Sketch #3: Airship Pirate Eep

2009-01-01T21:46:00.003-05:00

For the record, that's a cigar he's holding.

Requested Sketch # 2: Ninja Santa

2008-12-12T01:22:00.001-05:00

Santa's got a brand new bag. Of PAIN!

The first of the requested sketchs...

2008-12-06T14:20:00.005-05:00

Eep in cat ears:

The comic incidentally, has finally updated.

Making up for shitty updates by being a whore...

2008-12-05T10:07:00.005-05:00

So, why is the damnable comic late again? Internetz dramaz. ::sigh:: We're having connection issues here at Casa de Attercop. I was able to connect to the internet, and connect via FTP to my site, but I wasn't able to upload any files last night. After much cursing, half a bottle of Jack's, and more cursing, I finally gave it up at 2:30 am and went to bed.

So, how am I going to make it up to you?

With cheap fan service! Lately, I've been doodling at my Day Job in order to keep the homicidal rage to a disgruntled grumble. The above sketch was scrawled at the request of the lovely Klaude Davenport, who wanted to see a little fully fleshed out Eep and Wanda love. She asked; she received; she dug it.

That's when it dawned on me that this might be a good way to make y'all love me again.

So if you have a doodle suggestion, post it here, and I will (at some point) sketch it up. Just keep in mind that I'm most likely going to be doing these at work, so keep it SFW folks, please. (Or don't, and slip me a couple of bucks via Pay Pal, and maybe we can work out some naughtiness.)

Good god... What happened to my integrity?

Prop 2, Strange Fiction & How I'm About to Piss You Off

2008-11-07T01:48:00.005-05:00

About this week's Strange Fiction, I don't do political comics, largely because I'm not an expert on things political in nature. I'm just some chick who wears too much black and draws goofy pictures every week. You guys don't care how I vote; you just want the funny.

But the thing is, a constitutional amendment was just passed in my home state that not only outlaws gay marriage, but also rends the relationship between the Duckman and I null and void. I'm sorry, but I have to say something.

If you are one of the individuals who voted yes on Prop 8 or Prop 2 based on your religious definition of marriage: FUCK YOU. The fact that you would deny your fellow Americans equal rights because you don't agree with them is so utterly twisted that I don't even know how to begin to describe it. I say this knowing that some of you that I love may have voted "yes," and I realize some that I know no doubt voted "yes." I may know you, I may love you, but seriously... fuck you.

No one is asking you to agree with homo or bisexuality. No one is asking you to let the queers have a big ol' gay wedding/orgy/barbecue in your church. No one is asking the boys to hop on a cock or the ladies to start humping a vag. What we're asking is that you let other people alone to live their life as they see fit as equal members of society. You can think they're immoral all you want, hell I've got some less than kind opinions about a good chunk of the populous right now, but it doesn't give you the right to make the LGBT community second class citizens. Your faith does not give you the right to spread hate.

Only now it does. Legally. And it fucking breaks my heart.

Next week I promise to get down off my soapbox and get back to the funny, but for this week... I dunno, America. I guess I expected better of you.

History has been made: I got the Halloween goody up on the site!

2008-11-05T00:18:00.005-05:00

I think my local paper, the Sun-Sentinel put it best:

Regardless of how you voted (and I'm pretty sure y'all can guess how my vote today went), you have to admit it's pretty damn cool to see the first black man elected to the highest office in our lifetime.

Now, because I know you don't come here for my Deep Insights into American politics (because that would just be sad if you did), here's some Strange Fiction news: the last of the Hidden Halloween Goodies is up on the site.

Incidentally, if there's any interest, I wouldn't be adverse to putting a longer podcast on the site once a month or so. Apparently, I can't get enough of making an ass of myself.

Bat-A-Day: The End

2008-11-01T22:48:00.006-04:00

Did I seriously just end October with a picture of an ass?

::sigh::

Is there any way to answer that question with a "yes" that doesn't make me seem like an utter douche? Yeah. I didn't think so either. At least the underpants are awesome.

So, Bat-A-Day. That was a total black and orange, Halloween-themed abortion, wasn't it? I had Grand Plans, ladies and gents. Grand Plans. Grand Plans that in the words of Robbie Burns that totally gang aft agley. Ah well, there's always next year.

Oh, and in case you're wondering why Strange Fiction is so late this week, the first problem was illness. The second problem was a Punk Rock Halloween:

Yep. That's right. In honor of the holiday, our cat decided she should burn down our apartment complex. Totally punk.

Yee-HAW! The next hidden Halloween Goody is up on the site.

2008-10-30T09:21:00.004-04:00

Strange Fiction has updated with the next special delicacy for all you Trick-or-Treaters. It's only, what, 5 days late and missing the accompanying monster page? Perfect!

Gah! I know. I suck. I suck before you've even heard the goody. Trust me. This week is going to have most folks scratching their heads and wondering what the fuck is up with my taste in music.

Enjoy

P.S. I am repentant about my suckatude, honest.

Neglect, Monsters, & Bats: Oh my!

2008-10-18T00:10:00.007-04:00

It has not escaped my notice that I've been neglecting the shit out of this blog. October is a busy time of the month for me (no excuse) which has been made busier with an ambitious idea, that I'm already ready to abandon.

Over-ambition, thou hast a name, and thy name is the Bat-a-Day blog.

Yeeeeeeah. It seemed like such a good idea at the time. Like that 6th shot of vodka that turns the evening from drunken fun to a roller coaster of puke. I've liked the bats I've already done, but goodgoddamn, I just don't have the time.

So, here's the compromise: rather than post a bat a day in the bat-a-day blog, I'm going to post a bat a week here instead. That way I don't feel like I'm abandoning the blog totally, and y'all actually get some content. This week's installment is below.

On the topic of Halloween, I trust you guys keep up with the comic more than this blog, but in case you haven't been: the hidden Halloween goodies are upon us! Click around the site to find the hidden monsters and some special O'Hallow's Treats.

(Orange cotton & embroidery floss)

It's October!

2008-10-01T11:41:00.003-04:00

And you know what that means...

Watch the site for the usual goofiness and goodies this time of the year brings!

Also, be sure to check my latest little litany of insanity the Bat-A-Day Blog. In celebration of the season, I'll be creating a bat a day and posting it somewhere in my environment as part of a Halloween-themed public art project.

Yes, I know I need a hobby.

Win Original Art from Artists Better than Me!

2008-09-24T01:01:00.004-04:00

Are you wondering who did this week's amazingly and astoundingly awesome episode of (a very early) Strange Fiction?

Well, I ain't tellin'.

Which, my friends, is the whole point. This week is Eyeskream's Annual Comic Swap IV, and aside from getting to see a bunch of different artists draw your favorite comics, you also have the chance to win a particularly prestigious prize! If you're the first to correctly guess which artist drew which strip, then you can win a piece of commissioned art done by the participating ES artist of your choice. Have you always wanted to see Bryan from Suspicious Minds and Eep get into an all out pomp boxing match with their hair, on the space ship from Future Pig? Well, now's your chance!

What are you waiting for? Click the banner below, already.

WtFF: Politics. 'Nuff Said.

2008-09-19T10:15:00.001-04:00

I promised myself when I started this blog that even though it's mostly dedicated to the kind of insanity that drives me bat shit, I wouldn't talk about politics.

Political opinions, like opinions on religion and music, are like assholes: everyone has one and thinks everyone else's stinks.

Plus, I know not all my readers are Americans, and I'm going to go out on a limb here and say the vast majority of the non-Yanks who still check this blog could give a shit about which pompous windbag is on the screen in my mother land.

I'm sorry self, but I'm about to break a promise to you like I was your deadbeat dad, because I can't let this shit slide.

As even the international contingent may be aware, a former First Lady campaigned for the Democratic ticket for the Presidential nomination. I'm not talking about Pruney Bush; I'm referring to Hillary Clinton, of course. Here in Good Ol' Boy America, the conservative lot hate the Clintons, and they especially loathe Hillary. They hate her like she took away their collective puppy, kicked it to death, and then consumed its quickly cooling body with her bare hands right in front of them as they gently wept. Whether or not you think this is justified hatred is up to you and your asshole, but that doesn't change the fact that certain loud, uber-conservative--wait--make that, uber-fuckshitting-insane launched an Anti-Hillary Clinton campaign that was nigh unbelievable in its blatant sexism.

Check this out:

Yes. That's a sign that reads, "Iron my shirt." IE, get your breasts, and overies, and vagina away from the White House and back into the kitchen where they belong.

Holy shit. It's 1942, and no one told me.

It turns out the "iron my shirt" guys were most likely radio show jackasses, but that doesn't mean those of us with a pair of double X chromosomes weren't subjected to a steady stream of sexist bullshit from the right when ever the conversation turned to Hillary.

After all, one of Rush Limbaugh's objections to the female half of the Clintons in the White House was that she wasn't pretty enough.

"Will Americans want to watch a woman get older before their eyes on a daily basis?" he asked.

Regardless, the fact that there are people out there who would use this kind of rhetoric doesn't surprise me. Some people are misogynistic jerkwads. I get that. What makes me want to drive a tank through a good portion of the political buildings in Washington is now that the Republicans have their own "little woman" tramping down the White House trail, the Right Wingers are accusing Obama and the "liberal left" of being sexists whenever they question Sarah Palin's political experience.

I'm sure you guys are smart enough to appreciate the delicious, golden honey irony in that.

* head + desk, repeat from * to ad nauseum.

Say it with me, gang: what the FUCK?

Moving on to a discussion that doesn't make me want to commit suicide with the keyboard, you've no doubt noticed the adverts on Strange Fiction. They're being run through a company that has a nifty little counter that shows potential advertisers how many visitors hit the site, and from which countries they hail.

See? I wasn't just blowing out of my ass when I said not all my readers were Yanks.

I Wish...

2008-09-13T10:44:00.001-04:00

Blogger had a "reply to comments" feature on this thing. Just so you guys know, I *do* really appreciate the comments.

That is all.

Last Week for Naked Eep

2008-09-12T16:20:00.001-04:00

Firstly, a huge, HUGE thank you to the three folks who donated this week. Even though I know two of you personally, and even though you donated out of concern for my physical well-being, no doubt, thank you! (I will mail you the negatives by Wednesday of next week.)

If you were thinking you might want the Nudie Wallpaper, now's the time. After this week, I'll be retiring it for ever more.

So, what did I learn from drawing my main character in the buff? A few things, kids. A few things.

1. Full frontal nudity isn't as funny as suggested full frontal nudity.

2. Even though people may claim otherwise, no one really wants to see your comic characters naked when your character is a dude.

3. I draw sacks WAY too big, apparently.

All in all, I think it was worth doing, simply because it was uncomfortable for me to post that nudie pic online. It's funny. In the comic, I've made fun of the Special Olympics, suicide, self-injury and have even shown Eep slitting his wrists, none of which ever struck me as particularly risqué. But posting that wallpaper... It made me squirm a good deal more than I was expecting. IRL, I'm not shocked or offended by nudity in the slightest, so I was surprised I got all flustered every time I had to send the "nudie" link to a donator. Perhaps because I base so much of the character on myself, or perhaps because I was concerned what it "meant" to be the "kind of artist" that draws naked cartoons for money*.

Honestly, I'm not ruling out incorporating nudity into the comic in the future. The fact that it makes me ill at ease makes me want to explore it in the future.

Speaking of the comic, what do y'all think of Strange Fiction's new layout? Love it? Loathe it? Lust for it? Lemme know.

* What it means is that I have no morals. What do you want drawn? Gimme $5 and I'll do it!

WtFF: Horror Rides on Three Wheels

2008-09-06T00:13:00.002-04:00

I'm not sure how I didn't notice it sooner, probably because I'm a non-sociable, misanthropic fuck of a woman, but when the hell did people start getting so eye-wateringly stupid?

Do y'all know where the band Devo got their name? Devo is short for "de-evolution," a theory held by the band members that as technology evolved, humanity de-evolved. In other words, as our laptops got smarter, we got dumber.

It was a theory that I always found funny, but in which I never put much stock. Yeah, we may be animals, and I truly believe that most of us at our deepest core are barely civilized beasts, but homo superior are hardly an advanced MP-3 player away from squatting in caves and chucking our shit at trespassers. Aren't we?

I'll pause to let you chuckle ironically.

Most of the time, when I run afoul an individual who was obviously scrapped from the bottom of the scum choked end of the gene pool, I think to myself, "Self, don't jab your Sharpie in this cretin's eyes until he cries out to whatever half-baked, sports-swaddled chthonian he calls God. Take a deep breath and remember you surpassed his vocabulary before you were out of diapers." And with a curse and a stiff drink, I dismiss that person from my thoughts. Sure, if the behavior of the people with driver's licenses in my homestate are any indication, he, and folks like him, are in the majority. But, it hardly proves that humanity is hurdling towards a future that looks more like Planet of the Apes than "Star Trek." So, you may be asking yourself, on what grounds do I make the claim that society is on a backward slide? Here it is:

Not the Big Wheel in and of itself. It was one Big Wheel in particular that destroyed my faith in humanity.

On evening, while walking the streets of a trailer park after midnight, I spotted one of these trikes abandoned and awaiting early morning trash collection. Being the responsible adult that I so obviously am, I decided that the only logical thing to do with this perfectly functional bit of childhood frivolity was to ride the hell out of it. (And no, I was not drunk at the time.)

As I crammed my decidedly adult ass into the painfully non-adult seat, I learned the horrible truth about why this sad, faded Big Wheel had been left on the side of the road for the garbage men rather than passed down to a sibling or donated to Good Will. It reeked--REEKED--of BO! What kind of fucking mutant freak of a toddler produces sweat pungent enough that it bonded with plastic on a molecular level?

When I couple the knowledge that those of us who are thoughtful, considerate, intelligent and compassionate creatures are increasingly outnumbered by simians with cell phones with the fact that some abominable anomaly of modern genetics has created a child that smells like an over-weight, middle aged trucker on a personal hygiene strike, I can come up with only one possible theory. We are de-evolving back into skunk apes.

Devo were right.

God, I love the Jocko Homo dance.

Did I mention I'm taking donations?

2008-09-04T09:45:00.001-04:00

Strange Fiction might be late this week. Our phone, as well as our internet, has been turned off. We (*cough*DUCKY*cough*) made a mistake in the routing numbers when paying with a check online. Since we had a lot of unexpected expenses this month, including my little bro getting hitched and Ducky’s schoolbooks, we didn’t notice the payment didn’t go through. Until the phone didn’t work.

Dear fucking god, Bellsouth does NOT play around. You get them their money, or they break your goddamn knees. Metaphorically speaking. I’m almost entirely positive I would rather have the internet turned off than have my knees broken. … Almost.

With money already being stretched tighter than the skin across Pam Anderson’s chest, we don’t have a whole lot of extra cash to pay the bounced check fee from the phone company (yes THEY charge you a bounced check fee) and the reconnection fee. I will try to have things sorted out tonight, but no promises.

In other news, since it’s been two weeks and no What the FUCK Friday, I’m moving that particular feature to a bi-monthly thing. I just can’t get a decent article up and update the comic in one week’s time. I know. I suck.

What the fuck happened to WtFF?

2008-08-18T15:01:00.004-04:00

One word: Fay.

From all the latest computer predictions, it looks mi casa is out of harm's way from Tropical Storm (soon to be Hurricane) Fay. Even that crazy purple, Jesus fish looking one shifts it safely north.

So, in a kind-of-related-but-not-really way, I ask the following question:

Why the fuck do meteorologists all want us to die?

If you, like me, live in an area with reoccurring natural disasters, you understand this statement. For those who don't, let me share the experience with you.

Maybe it's the chance in barometric pressure that does it, but anytime anything with an "eye" starts swirling around in the water, men and weather-women get a sudden gleam in their eye I don't like. They go from calm, usually subdued professionals to gleeful, Renfield-like characters who practically start foaming, once a storm has turned "deadly." (Which basically means it beat the shit out of some unsuspecting country somewhere.) They writhe and cavort in front of the camera, performing complex heathen rituals with pointing, sweeping hand gestures, complex geometric patterns, clips of the beat down suffered by the aforementioned country, and sacrifices the Doppler, patron god of radar.

Think I'm exaggerating for comedic value? Well, you're right. But, not by much. When I was in college, I had to evacuate because of a Hurricane Floyd, a category 5 storm that was wider than the whole state. For those that don't know, category 5 is the "kiss your ass good bye, because you're fucked" category. It's as strong as hurricanes come, and can level a city like an atomic bomb. Only wetter. After a while, we got sick of the "Make peace with your God, because we're all gonna DIE" coverage of the local station, and flipped over to the weather channel. "Don't worry," I reassured my panicking non-Floridian friends, "the weather channel won't be so hysterical. We should get unbiased info there."

There, a balding, middle-aged meteorologist gleefully informed us that this was a "perfect" hurricane. He skipped, skipped, off camera with a merry, "Let me get out of the way, so you can get a good look at this monster."

Well, fuck you too.

I get that if you're a meteorologist, weather makes you pop one, and I get that hurricanes are like the Olympics of weather systems; they're big, dramatic, unpredictable, and --most importantly-- traceable by radar. It's your soap opera, your favorite sports team, and sex all rolled into one. I understand that. But please, remember, most of us aren't all that excited about the possibility of getting our homes razed to the ground, or spending 2 and 1/2 weeks without power. Yeah, I know. We're crazy like that.

WtFF: An Open Letter to the Woman Who Won't Flush the Toilet

2008-08-08T01:50:00.000-04:00

I work in an office building with shared bathrooms, and common logic (as well as child labor laws) guarantee that all those who share the "women's restroom" with yours truly are, physically, of legal age here in the Sunshine State. For my international readers, that age is 18. When you consider that most people learn the intricacies of the water closet at 2, you wonder what the hell is wrong with people who are old enough to elect the next leader of one of the most powerful countries in the world, but can't seem to figure out how to flush a fucking toilet.

It's a frightening time we live in, isn't it?

Please consider this open letter a Public Service Announcement. Feel free to print it and leave conspicuous copies around any offending lavatories you happen to come across.

Dear mysterious woman of not-so-mysterious bodily functions,

I'm assuming, of course, that wolves raised you. Or, if you're a native Floridian like myself, then perhaps it was a family of raccoons that found your prone, naked baby body alone in the swamp. How nice that the striped and banded little critters reared and fostered you through your formative years. I can understand then why the bathroom would be a mystery to you, and I guess I should give thanks that at least the items left floating in your wake are in the toilet rather than left to fester in a corner which, no doubt, is where your foster folks would have left their droppings.

What? You're not a Horrible Raccoon Woman? Well, then perhaps you're recovering from a catastrophic scooter vs. tractor trailer collision, and thanks to years and years of therapy you are an almost fully functioning person again. If that's the case, I'm impressed. You've made a lot of progress. However, you might want to discuss your "recovery" with your physical and mental therapists; the rules of restroom etiquette haven't quite been re-imprinted on your malfunctioning brain.

Hell, maybe it's a fetish, and I'm missing the hastily scrawled post-it notes reading, "Like what you see?" that accompany every presentation of voided bowel and bladder.

Personally, when I wreck my brain trying to come up with an explanation for the "why, why, why won't she flush the fucking toilet" that keeps screaming through my mind, I keep hoping it's the raccoons that raised you. At least that way I know you're washing your hands.

Hugs and Kisses,

Nicole

Anyone want a slice of Latin Cheesecake?

2008-08-05T07:43:00.005-04:00

I drew the quick sketch above in response to what was essentially a dare from a friend who told me I was too big a prude to ever draw the Strange Fiction characters naked. (Yes, there's an un-cropped version.)

As a comic fan, I always felt alienated and vaguely offended most by cheesecake art featuring female characters. It wasn't "for" me, and it was usually done in such a way that the subject's powers/personality/identity was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was that she had a skimpy outfit and a smashing pair of tits. I always felt that if it wasn't a cheap marketing ploy, it was certainly a cheapening the characters.

I'm a little older now, and not as uptight and easily insulted as I once was, but I've still resisted putting together any cheesecake type stuff of the SF gang (despite the growing Cult of Eep), because of that belief it's "cheapening" the characters. So, I'm posting the question to you, readers? What do y'all think? Am I:

1. Over thinking it
2. Correct, cheesecake art is cheap
3. Fuck you and your cheapness, Nicole! Show us the un-cropped version of that sketch already!

As a side note, the concept of "naked Eep" was a lot funnier BEFORE I actually drew the nudie pic. Once it was done, it was like, "Oh. Male nude. Eh." (And yes, it is supposed to be right before he appears in the infamous "movie.")

WtFF: "Dr." Phil Wants To Cure What Ails Ya'

2008-08-01T19:11:00.010-04:00

Originally, I wasn't going to post a rant about Dr. Pathetic so close to the first Oprah-tastic WtFF. But goodgoddamn, is this fucker annoying:

Let's just throw it out there. Anyone who has to go on the Dr. Phil Show to get a "personal revelation" from that balding proprietor of bullshit is an idiot. I understand and appreciate that sometimes you get desperate, or confused, or just really want to appear on TV, but do you really need a cube of Texas man beef rehashing every embarrassing, humiliating portion of your psyche on a national level to figure out that you're "not happy?" Do you really?

Did you know he helped craft a series of successful seminars with his father and a business partner only to sell his stock behind their backs eight years later? He also got in deep dog shit with his beloved state of Texas for screwing and employing one of his 19 year-old patients. Do you know badly you have to have fucked up to get in trouble for boning the barely legal in red-blooded, meat-eating Texas? Currently, he isn't licensed to practice psychology in Texas, California, or anywhere else. And this is the guy you want telling you how to make ammends with your baby daddy. Come on!

He's got about as much right to pass moral judgement as Ron Jeremy. You could get better advice by flipping to a random page in the Greek printing of the Women's Devotional New Testament With Psalms & Proverbs.

Seriously. When did stating the obvious with horrible, deep-fried metaphors start counting as serious psychology?

I hate to say it, because there are so many who suffer for so long with undiagnosed mental disease either through ignorance, fear, or a lack of access to proper mental health care, but the vast majority of folks who start popping pills after being deeply effected by a commercial about a Really Sad Circle (designed to be deeply effecting, I might point out), probably just need a good smack to the back of the head from Mistress Reality. I'm sorry to have to be the one to break this to you sunshine, but nothing is going to make you happy 24/7. Nothing. Life is cruel, confusing and often unfair and short. It involves pain, suffering and the oppressive knowledge of your own mortality. It's called the human condition, and without a lobotomy and an obscene amount of laudanum, there's no escaping it.

And this attitude, ladies and gents, is why I started listening to dirge-like tunes with driving bass lines and wearing too much black. Excuse me while I step away to staple my hand to my forehead. d-:

As an aside, thanks to everyone who commented on my last entry. It feels good to be loved. I am suspicious of your motives, of course, but the sentiment is still appreciated.

I have HOW many readers?

2008-07-29T16:20:00.004-04:00

OK, I fully admit that I'm stupid when it comes to reading these things, but according to my host's stats for Strange Fiction, I have had 114,252 requests and 17,262 page requests. Assuming the page requests are "hits," and subtracting the 50 that are no doubt from me, if we divide that number by 4, that means I averaged over 4,000 (4,303) readers this month?

O.o

That number may not intimidate some but... Uh, hi. I'm pleased as hell you're all here, but where the fuck did all you people come from?

WtFF: Parents, Just Say No (to Kids)

2008-07-25T23:33:00.005-04:00

As Garfield (the president, not the cat) would say, "I don't DO mornings." Not at all. So, when it looked like this morning was shaping up to be a big bowl of Frosted Bullshit Flakes, I knew there was only one thing that could make it bearable: Dunkin Donuts, where $2 buys me a large caffeinated cup of extra-light, no sugar happiness. (Screw you and your $8 coffee, Starbucks.) However, feeding the monkey on my back made me witness to one of the most vile and subtle forms of child abuse that I have ever had the misfortune of viewing.

Some yuppie, leather handbag of a woman, bought her eight year old son an iced carmel late.

What. The. Fuck?

I know that parents hate it when bitter, childless bitches like myself question their parenting skills, but for the sake of all those with even an ounce of common sense, I must ask. Why? Why in the name of all that's holy and good would you voluntarily give your child a beverage loaded down with sugar and caffeine? Why would that even seem like a remotely good idea? God almighty, can you imagine what her precious little Tyler was like later on in the day?

Thankfully, I wasn't there to experience the carnage firsthand, but I've watched enough hours of Animal Planet to know how the afternoon went.

9 AM: Tyler squeals like the Pig Guard in Jedi until his mom buys him an iced caramel latte.

10 AM: Hopped up like a schizophrenic monkey on crack getting signals from the Pentagon, Tyler urinates in his mom's sock drawer.

11 AM: Interpretive dance.

12 PM: Tyler starts to crash from his sugar high. He attempts to keep "the good times rolling" by smearing pictographs on the living room wall with his own fecal mater.

1 PM: The sugar has worn off entirely, but the caffeine still has Tyler buzzing enough to alphabetize his dad's porn collection.

2 PM: As the remainder of the stimulants leach out of his system Tyler starts to go into withdrawal. By 2:30 he has plucked out his eyebrows and accused the nanny of being a Nazi spy. Twice.

3 PM: Tyler's parents disown him.

I heard he wrassled a bear when he were only 3!

2008-07-22T10:08:00.007-04:00

OK, so the shading isn't going to make it to Strange Fiction this week. Do you want to know why?

Nikola Tesla.

No seriously. Rather than work on the shading like I should have been, I ended up sketching that little bit of madness while listening to the Clockwork Cabaret. I had to abandon last week's comic all together, because I was struck with the Best Idea Ever for the comic this week. I think it was a divine blessing from Nikola himself. You guys are not going to believe what happens. Heh.

I ought to make my next WtFF about Tesla. The man was certainly odd enough. He hated fat folks, human hair, round objects and pearl earrings. Yet he loved pigeons. Total insanity.

WtFF: 100 Calorie Snacks

2008-07-19T13:55:00.001-04:00

Dear manufacturers of "diet" junk food,

Kindly burn in hell.

Seriously. I would ask if you've seen this shit, but I know you have. On the TV, in the supermarket, knocking on your door at 6 am on Saturday morning, there they are:

I don't know about you, but I take offense to a product whose marketing pitch consists of, "Hey! Do you like Oreos? Has a high-fat, calorie laden, and sedentary lifestyle put too much jiggle in your jello? Are you willing to fork over $5 for 3.5 packs of vaguely chocolate flavored crackers? Then have I got a snack for you!"

Now, don't get me wrong; I'm a woman who loves her cookies, cakes, and wine. My soft, sweets-lovin' tummy will attest to this fact. But let's face facts here, ladies and gents, there is no way that junk food is ever going to be healthy. Sure, you can dry out your mouth out with an ounce of these crappy "cookies" that resemble Oreos in name only, but I doubt it's really going to satiate a craving for the real thing. If you want to have a svelte physique (or just really love that heroin chic look of Lux Interior) then you're going to have to forgo snacks. Period. Does anyone out there actually think that the plague of obesity in the USA is because up until this point we haven't had access to cardboard snacks dusted with coco powder and Spenda?

Do you want something healthy and low in calories to munch that's not going to give you cancer in 5 years? Eat some damn celery sticks! I know you have to cut them up yourself, and they're not glamorous or brand name, but I guarantee they won't give you the overload-of-artificial-sweetener-squirts. (The too-much-bran-shits, I make no promises about, however.)

Somewhere in the back your your mind, you know that fruits and vegetables are really the only snacks that won't give you a waistline that doesn't involve using a boomerang to put on your belt.

Thank you the 80s, for your drug-fueled PSAs. (Even if they were drawn by babies in a third world country for a grand total of $1.23.)

I'm not saying you have to give up your treats, god knows I'm not about to, but if you want to eat something that doesn't have the same chemical makeup of the box that housed it, then you'll have to learn to love your chub. These "healthy" snacks aren't going to do jack or shit except deplete your bank account. I don't know about you, but I don't need Nestle to do that for me; the price of gas does that all by itself.

A quick note to my one and only reader: sorry this one is so short, Pieter. d-:

Posted: 18 July @ 11:46 PM
Edited so that it made sense (finally): 19 July @ 2 PM

WtFF is going to be a touch late...

2008-07-18T04:43:00.000-04:00

Strange Fiction has updated, but What the Fuck Friday will update later this evening.

She said as though someone actually read the blog.

WTF? It's the first what the fuck Friday!

2008-07-11T03:50:00.001-04:00

In case you couldn't figure it out by the f-bomb being a part of the title of this little weekly excursion into my increasing insanity levels, the subject matter of What the Fuck Fridays is going to be decidedly adult. Don't get your hopes up, pervs, I'm not going to be showing hardcore pornography. (I'll give you a moment to mourn over that fact.)

What I am going to be discussing are items that are decidedly adult in nature like comics, the sex industry, advertising, television, politics, movies, mainstream media, human rights, and Oprah.

Speaking of the big O (again, stop getting your hopes up pervs), let's get right to it: OPRAH.

Few names can make booksellers start sweating and mid-western moms start wetting themselves with glee like Oprah Winfey. Before I get started, I hate that I have to do this, but let me get it out of the way. I don't hate black women. The Cult of O is so all-encompassing, and the power of the hypnobeams broadcast during her hour long brainwashing session so strong, that you can't voice any criticism of Oprah, no matter how mild ("you know, I don't like her hair") without being accused of either being a sexist or a racist or both.

Oprah Winfrey could go on air tomorrow dressed like a homosexual Nazi, and the next morning millions of Americans across the nation would be donning swastikas and discussing how much they enjoy same-sex sex and how much they dislike the Jewish people. Such is her power.

Yeah, I know she's a philanthropist and has done a lot of good with her money over the years. And, truth be told, I was in the Oprah's Awesome Club for a while, because it was nice to see a woman wield that much power in the American media, and a black one at that.

Unfortunately, it soon became clear that like a talk show Vlad the Impaler, she's become twisted and insane with power. Simply put, Oprah does not live on the same planet as the rest of us. How do I know this? Is her her extended exercise in ego masturbation that she calls "O Magazine?" (Even the name sounds dirty.) Perhaps it was when she opened her dominatrix school for young girls in Africa that I began to suspect she had a god complex. Or maybe it's her fanatic following of the "good vibes" philosophy of "The Secret" that made me arch an eyebrow her way. No, the thing that did me in is the fact that she's a grown woman who can't say the word vagina.

How would you describe a 54 year old woman who calls her reproductive organ a "va-jay-jay?" Brutally insane? Yeah, me too. And no, I don't care that they said it on "Grey's Anatomy" first. It doesn't change the fact that she's over half a century old and still feels the need to have a cute pet name for her crotch.

Plus, Oprah is pure evil. Don't believe me? See for yourself.

Well guys, that's the rant for this Friday. I promise future episodes will be more amusing, and full of shit that is going to make your brain leak out of your ears. Seriously. What is it about me that causes my friends to email me horrifying things? On that topic, if you have any suggestions for a future WtFF, email them to me at LadyA(at)strangefiction.net. God knows I'll stop being funny before too long.

Oh, and as a sidebar to the infamous va-jay-jay episode of the Oprah Winfrey Show: "Dear Oprah, I do not need you to teach me how to wipe my ass. I learned that lesson at 2. Kai? Thanks. Hugs and Kisses, Nix"

I'm afraid my language won't get any better from here on out...

2008-07-09T15:08:00.000-04:00

Welcome to the relaunch of the Strange Fiction blog. Why am I splitting this one away from my personal journal? Mostly because I doubt the vast majority of my readers want to wade through paragraphs of paragraphs full of whining about money. I know I wouldn't.

Yes, I've tried this before, and didn't keep up with it. Why should I keep up with it now? Partially because I'm introducing a new segment titled "What the Fuck Fridays," which will appear in this journal. Yes, it's an ambitious title as it implies I will update weekly. We shall see.

So, what the fuck is up with What the Fuck Fridays? The world irritates and astounds me, and I need a forum to vent that irritation and astonishment before I it twists me and turns me into that bitter, cruel old woman who spends all her free time in the park wearing tin foil bloomers, and screaming at the doves that they're just fancy pigeons with an over-inflated sense of importance.*

Will it be boring? Oh yeah. Excruciatingly so. But if you're sitting here reading this journal, chances are good your life is duller than mine, so you're hardly in the position to be passing judgment.

* Which, for the record, they are.