Tag Archives: comic

At the Downtown Dispensary

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What’s really confusing about this is that you don’t have to open the door to get the full effect. You can smell the dispensary from a block away.

Miraculously, here is a comic. It’s miraculous due to the difficulty I encountered in bringing it to you. First of all, after uploading yesterday’s mandala, I went to work on a particular comic that I’ve been trying to finish all month, and the Wacom tablet was malfunctioning. I spend a long time messing with it–swapping USB ports, switching cables, turning things on and off, deleting and reinstalling the drivers–then finally emailed Wacom and started this pencil comic because I had a feeling that Wacom wasn’t going to be any help and I was going to need something for today, and that it would take me an exceptionally long time to get it ready without the computer.

In the morning, I received 2 completely useless (I mean, basically blank) emails from Wacom. The Man decided that I needed to upload newer drivers, which was a great idea, except that I hadn’t updated my OS in a while, and the new drivers needed a new operating system. So that took like 5 hours. It would have been faster but I didn’t have enough disk space for it, so I had to delete a bunch of files first. But the download took over 3 hours and the install took close to an hour. And then I still had to install the drivers. And now the tablet works again, huzzah.

Meanwhile, I drew this comic in pencil and then fixed the contrast in Photoshop so it was actually readable. But you can see why I prefer to do everything in Photoshop. I had to draw that same poster 6 times. Also, I note that the dude shrinks about 4 inches between panel 4 and panel 5. And the lettering is all wonky, and so are all the lines. I guess I could have used a ruler…

Just a slice of life. I do not have a medical card and don’t frequent the Downtown Dispensary–this was actually my first time setting foot in a dispensary–but The Man offered to drive some friends on their errands, so we were waiting for them in the lobby, and this basically happened: random dude stuck his head in the door, inhaled deeply, sighed, and left. Cracks me up. Bonnie Jo Campbell’s sitcom moment of the day. Subtle.

My pencil comics never get much love, but I honored my promise to myself. Sadly, what I needed to be doing with this day was perfecting the ceremony for the Fox and the Otter’s wedding, which begins in just under 12 hours from the time I’m writing this update. It’s ridiculous how much time I lost this week between American Airlines and Wacom both failing me. But I cannot fail the Fox and the Otter.

 

Scratch That Idea

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It’s not supposed to be funny. This is my nightmare. 

It’s the time of year where a huge percentage of desert trees explode into a venomous miasma of pollen. It’s the palo verdes and the mesquites, mostly, and they’re beautiful, but they also settle right into your throat. Tree pollen is my main enemy, although dust and cat dander tie for a close seconds, and there are a bunch of plants that inflame my skin or my eyes. For pass-out glory and fast, fast itch relief, I depend on Benedryl. Nothing else seems to help.

This week I was with my mom, who has more allergies than I do, and takes a lot of preventative medication. Can you imagine if your body started attacking it?

Still tired and disoriented from Tuesday. That’s the nature of the beast. Tomorrow should probably be better, and if it’s not, I’ll live. Tonight I could actually sleep. Or maybe that part of my life is over and I shouldn’t expect anything like that ever again. So tired.

Yes, this comic took me a week to do. I guess I should be proud it got done at all, given the circumstances. Probably not worth the wait. Just perfect for April Fool’s Day.

It’s a 3D problem

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Actually, I am angry about the Democratic primaries in Arizona, but I’m doing this new thing where I try not to obsess about things that fill me with righteous indignation.

Ladies with a little extra up on top, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

When I was in college, making and selling custom chain mail was a trend, and a friend mentioned that he had received his first commission for a chain mail bikini. The next time I saw him, I asked how it had worked out.

“Awful,” he said. “I’m starting over from scratch with a new design. The first one just fell apart when she put it on.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I guess I never really thought of a bra as a weight-bearing device,” he said.

Which struck me as hilarious at the time. Why else would a woman subject herself to a bra, if not to help her carry that burden? But apparently, this is all news to the people who design bikini tops, because I tried a number of them on today, and they all failed at their basic function. Listen, you can’t just take a small bikini and double the size and call it a large bikini. A bikini top is a weight bearing device for anyone larger than a B-cup. Here’s the rundown, in case you don’t have enormous breasts and never considered the structural engineering problem:

  1. The band: This is the foundation of the garment. If the band is too loose, everything falls out the bottom. Design fail. Possible obscenity charges.
  2. The cups: They need to be shaped roughly like a woman’s chest. Merely enlarging a small pattern results in uncomfortable and unflattering squishing, lack of support, potential nip slip, and possible obscenity charges
  3. The straps: Do not make extra-large bikinis with halter straps. Just don’t. Because a bikini top is a weight bearing device, and a human neck is not a sufficient anchor.

So it looks like I’m just going to have to wear a T-shirt over the the bikini top I already own. Because while I personally feel I should have the right to go topless whenever the mood strikes, for my own comfort, I don’t have the financial means to fight an obscenity charge. If ever someone cares to fairly compensate me for my creative endeavors, I hope to have all my weight-bearing garments bespoke. And my jeans, too. I don’t think there’s anything too outrageous about my shape, but it’s not one that anybody is designing clothes for right now. Women’s clothes are a joke. And not a funny one.

 

Next Time, I’ll Get You a Rabbit

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Is this slice of life, or is it a complex metaphor for my relationship with my husband?

I had a rare opportunity to write about my cat today. I mean, someone else specifically requested professional quality writing about cats for publication on a paying website, and I wrote about mine. I have written about her before and also attempted to paint her for this blog. This cat is a very particular representative of her species. We’re talking the archetype of Kipling’s cat who walks alone. She wants all the comforts of home and none of the restrictions, and while we mostly understand each other, there is clearly nothing I can ever do to communicate to her that there is no type of animal, dead or alive, that I would even enjoy receiving as a present. So she just keeps trying.

Actually, I should count myself lucky that she’s never brought me a rat, but that’s probably just because there aren’t that many rats around here. There must be Norwegians, because there are Norwegians everywhere, but I’ve never seen evidence of one. If she got a rat, it would probably be a packrat, but it doesn’t seem like she’s ever brought a packrat in. Maybe they’re super-delicious and she keeps them for herself.

Also, I recognize that it was extremely unprofessional to draw that woman’s hands with zero fingers but I did draw her fingers, over and over again, and all of them looked super freaky and I called it a day. No fingers for you, freak out lady. She’s lucky. I originally uploaded a version where the joint on her left arm was backwards. It looked crazy painful. Her hair started out with best intentions but lost something in translation. That rat is just gross as can be. Actually, it could be grosser. But it’s pretty gross. Seriously, if my cat brought that inside I would probably cry.

Dragon Comics 127

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In panel 4, The Man isn’t upset that the Girl got frosting for breakfast. He’s jealous because he didn’t get frosting for breakfast. 

Waffles are pretty simple; it’s the first thing thing the kids were able to cook completely without supervision. While writing this, I suddenly thought of something that happened 20 years ago, while making waffles for the guy I was dating my last semester of undergrad/first semester of being a supposed adult. Possibly, he was making waffles for me, under my supervision. But I said something to the effect that it was silly to worry about screwing up the ironing of the waffle, and then I said something like, “You’ve got to be a complete moron to fuck up a waffle.” And for whatever reason, he thought that was hilarious, and for the rest of our relationship, sometimes he would catch my eye and say, “You’ve got to be a complete moron to fuck up a waffle.”

Seriously, toaster waffles are full of all kinds of stuff you don’t need, and a waffle iron costs maybe $25. It probably pays for itself in a weeks’ worth of breakfast, and it’s so simple a small child can operate it. Message me at this page and I will send you the recipe for regular waffles or for gluten free waffles that are so good a lot of people prefer them to regular waffles. I have strong feelings about homemade waffles.

The other thing I was thinking about was a friend who does standup comedy, who was laughing at another comic because she had seen the second comic performing the exact same set a dozen times in a row. I said, “If you want to be a comedian you should probably try to write a joke every day,” and she laughed and agreed. I imagine that people who are serious about comedy write at least 1 new joke every day. It may not be a good joke, but the point is that, say you are only successful (like you think of something truly funny) 20 percent of the time, you would still have 6 new jokes a month. If you’re funny less than 20% of the time you might not have a future in comedy.

So then I told another friend that anecdote, and she marveled over my production of a daily blog 5 days a week. I try to write 4 comics a week (not that they’re all funny) and some weeks I only manage 1 or 2, but the main thing is to crank out new material, not rest on your laurels. I probably only write 2 really successful, upvoted/shared posts a month, but the more comics I write, the more traffic I get.

It’s way easier to have an idea during the day and mull it over for a while before you get to work than it is to come up with something when the clock is ticking and you’re staring at a blank page. I try to have an idea before 10 pm, but it’s not always possible.

That led me to think about the writer Bonnie Jo Campbell, who once explained to me her concept of “the sitcom moment of the day.” She says, “If you search through every day, something really funny happens. You just have to look for it,” and that’s the sitcom moment of the day. She meant it as a counterweight to depression, but it’s a great tool for writing comics. You can read all the things she told me that day on my old home page. The formatting is old school web wonky–all the apostrophes are replaced with white question marks in black diamonds–but it’s still readable.

This is all to say that this comic is pretty much non-fiction, except the waffles were lunchtime waffles and The Man pointed out the frosting connection over text, since he was on break at work.

Spring Break!

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Mom’s gonna be spring broke, too, once she’s done paying for a new bed. 

Come for the political/nerd mashup humor, suffer through the dead baby jokes, and stay for the light-hearted child-friendly puns. We’re all over the map this week.

It is spring break, which means 1000s of extra tourists clogging up our roadways, and kids home all day. They’re too old for jumping around and breaking things, though. They’re at that age where you have to outwit them just to get them to look up from their devices. But I got them excited about making cheese, so we did that instead of spending the entire day staring at screens. We made a block of paneer cheese, a 1/2 cup of ricotta, and a quart of whey. Actually, I think we ended up with more whey than the amount of milk with which we started. It’s a cheese-making paradox.

I was going to make some finger paneer, but one block isn’t all that much cheese, and after the kids ate their share, there wasn’t too much left. But now I really want some finger paneer. We had planned a communal dinner with some friends, and I ended up making spinach mushroom pakoras. At our hosts’ house I conjured some apple chutney out of the stuff they had in the fridge, and also salad dressing, which I whipped up on the fly because nobody brought any. Also, strawberries and whipped cream for desert. Other people made Indian curries, salad, and rice. And then, once again, it was late and I hadn’t even considered funny ideas for comics, and this is what I got.

Babies on Boards

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Cookies are for closers.

This is what happens when I don’t sleep at night and then go about my business during the day and then work on this blog the next night. I draw Modest Proposal-themed comics. And boy, did I powerfully not sleep last night. Yes, this is the third child cannibalism themed comic I’ve drawn this year. If you think panel 4 is bad, you should have seen its original paint job, in which I attempted to color the baby like a roast suckling pig. Some blasphemies are too much even for me, though. See? Things could always be worse. That baby just looks like it’s sleeping, right? Easy mistake. Someone plated a sleeping baby by accident. It’s not like we went all The Cook, the Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover on a baby because it was evil or anything. That baby is just fine. That’s not even an apple in its mouth. It’s a pacifier. No choking hazard.

When I told The Man about what I intended to draw and got to the last panel, he appeared mildly distressed and then said, “It’s your career.” It sure is. It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you stop caring what anyone else actually thinks of you. It’s nice to bounce ideas off of him. If he’s really disturbed, then I know I’m hitting my target audience, which is people who are more demented than me.

The Cook, the Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover is an excellent film, by the way. I highly recommend it if you enjoy being disturbed by the depth of human depravity. I was just a little bit too young to get into rated R movies when it came out in 1989, so I only saw it for the first time in 2014, which is a pity, because as much as I liked it, I would have liked it 10 times more in 1989.

How am I still even awake? Literally, The Man got up for work this morning and I was sitting in my office, having not yet fallen asleep the night before. When I said something about not wanting to take sleeping medication because I wouldn’t be able to get up tomorrow, he said, “It is tomorrow.” And now it’s almost tomorrow again, and here I am, eating chocolate and writing about cannibalism. Again. Might as well be 1996. Nothing has changed.

Enjoy. Or don’t. No skin off my roast baby. I’ve even honed my ability to not respond to people who irritate me on the Internet. So go ahead. Let my know how you feel. I don’t care.

Lack of Resistance Is Futile

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Well, if you’re going to be like that, I’ll go as the Borg cube, and then nobody gets to resist.

First of all, I don’t know that guy, except inasmuch as we all know that guy. But no one reading this should think that guy is a parody of them particularly. At least not anyone who knows me.

It’s not that nobody leaves. My very own sister went to Canada in 2002 and never came back. I also know some guys who went to New Zealand, but those guys did come back. But you know the people I’m talking about. They won’t go. But they will help to further polarize the issues by seeing everything in absolute black and whites.

Anyway, this comic cracks me up, meaning that either the Fox or the Owl will appreciate it, and everyone else will hate it. Ha ha. I am killing this public opinion thing, as usual.

The concept got a mild chuckle out of The Man. He helped me with the last panel. After I considered on Firefly and Star Wars, I couldn’t think of a third fandom with a resistance, even though there are dozens because speculative fiction is all about sticking it to the man. The Man suggested Battlestar Galactica, but I never really watched that show. Then I thought about using this symbol of electromagnetic resistance, but The Man said that was too obscure, and that an actual resister was a lot more recognizable. So there we have it. Begin with the abysmal state of American politics and end with a silly sci-fi fandom slash technical nerd joke.

Dragon Comics 126

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No matter what you have, someone else always has more. But then again, someone else always has less. Really, only 2 people out of 7 billion could say otherwise.

The Man tells me that most people would be satisfied to be as good at one thing as I am at many things, but I guess I was raised to believe that being good at many things is insufficient if you’re not the best at at least one thing. Obviously, I have everything a dragon could need. but dragons can want things, too. Dragons can have dreams, after all. And dragons can be happy for other people and still covet what they have. And that’s all I have to say about that.

An old grad school colleague texted me about her residency at the Atlantic Center for the Arts, urging me to apply for the fall. It’s sort of exactly what I want to do. But maybe not exactly. Definitely, I don’t have the 10-page sample comic, and I’m not sure if my skills are quite ready to tackle my big graphic novel project yet. This is what I really want to do: artist in residence on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. Can you imagine? Best job in the world.

Anyway, it’s been a while since the last Dragon Comic. Over thinking is one of my special skills.

 

Ain’t No Party Like a Star Party

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Ain’t no party like a star party, because a star party takes place far from human civilization, and you can’t play loud music or jump around because the vibrations could interfere with the telescopes and also you’re only allowed to use red lights so you don’t mess up anyone’s night vision while you’re stumbling around in the dark. Also, they’re usually freezing cold.

Technically, they’re not all stock photos but hopefully people have a good sense of humor about it and see that it’s all in good fun, or else don’t see it at all.

Tonight wasn’t feeling like a funny night but you can only do so many jokes about not feeling funny so we gave it the old college try and thought of something that was sort of like something funny but not really. Which then led to Googling “star party,” which brings us to that first stock photo. It’s crazy. He’s out there by himself and he can’t even look through the eyepiece. Clearly, it would be too much back strain. He climbed all the way up that mountain and spent an hour setting up his gear and all he can do is stand wistfully gazing at the cosmos with his naked eye, his $1000 functionally useless.

After that, finding 3 more silly looking telescope pictures to caption took a matter of moments. Telescopes are inherently unwieldy, and from experience I note that that the people vested in carting them around tend to be fairly peculiar themselves.