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That's right, folks.  A quasi-timely update.  3 more strips penciled and 6 more laid out.  And I've been listening to too much Die Hard because I can hardly resist shouting "Yippee Kai-Yay."

The comic!

Man, it's been a while since I've bothered to update this thing.  Not surprising in that most of what's been going on for the last month has revolved around blown tires, medical claims screw ups, and the ever-escalating activity of work.  There's been wrestling with the small bits of PHP I understand for my oft-delayed and sidelined website.  So, mostly there's been nothing new or interesting to report aside from griping, and color me crazy, I'd rather not subject the InterNetz to more woe-is-me than it already has. ^_^

On the bright side, my illustration skills, while not being put to good use, are at least being used as I complete daily sketches for Little Dude's pre-school.  Since this school year it's in the afternoon, I find myself not racing to scribble something out first thing in the morning and thusly happier with those drawings.

24-Hour Comicbook Day is approaching, as is NaNoWriMo, both events I enjoy, yet with other things going on and my schedule seemingly never settled (seriously, I should have switched shifts in July...) I'm not sure if I'll be participate.  Especially since it's my personal goal to have a backlog of webcomics ready to kick off as of October 9th.  Curse you, Malaise!

Since I'm finally done being clobbered at work for two days, I can finally comment about my weekend.  You know, because everyone's been on pins and needles just suffocating in anticipation.  This past weekend Little Dude stayed with my mom.  All that potty-training progress we'd made, well, that whooshing noise was the sound of it flying out the window.



And now, I'm going to try and get my son interested in something that isn't my computer and then escape to my much beloved bed.

This Father's Day I'm left to my own devices while the Wif and Little Dude are at her parents.  I am, naturally, working this weekend.  Which I'm okay with, I guess.  I get to catch up on sleep (in theory) and maybe I'll get one of those colossal hugs my progeny so seldom doles out after long periods of separation.  So that's something to look forward to.

In the meantime, I get to thumb through my early Father's Day present, a wondrous little book called The Dangerous Book for Boys.  It's got lots of neat stuff for cultivating what I've affectionately dubbed "a gentlemanly scamp."  Most of the information is just neat or fun things for young kids (boys or girls) to do on their own.  The perfect paper airplane.  Building a soapbox car from scrap.  Famous battles.  How to identify tons of stuff.

Then again, there's also how to make a pressure plate warning device, fashion your own bow and arrow, and make your clothes fireproof.  Which guarantees supervised usage of the danger-zone red tome.

But in the meantime, I've decided on this, my fifth Father's Day (we'd found out Little Dude was coming between Mother's Day and Father's Day, so I've gotten a holiday up on ne_today), I've decided I need to set unreasonable expectations for my son.  And then chart his failure so that I can remind him and all his peers just how much of a disappointment he is to me.

And by unreasonable, I mean that boy should be able to levitate or shoot lasers from his eyes by the time he's seven.  SEVEN DAMMIT!  You've got three and a half years 'til you're eight, kid!  Lasers.  Get to work on them.

In an ideal setting, I'd want a Nobel Prize by the time he's ten, but with kids and their blatant disregard for things that were better when I was younger, I'll let him skate (do kids still do that?) by until he's twelve.  I know once that future slacker gets into junior high his potential will be shot.

I do however have a strict deadline for when he must build his own robot doppleganger, which is eight years of age.  If there's a kid building a cold fusion generator in his basement at the age of fourteen, I expect robots by the day he turns eight.  What kid couldn't do that with the InterNetz around?  A failure, that's who!

That's all I've really got for now, but don't worry, it's an organic list meant to expand as the boy's skillsets emerge and then pulverize his self-esteem when I demand otherwise.  You may think I'm joking, or that I'll forget, but you're wrong.  He deserves to have lasting scars and trauma the same as me, and since violence is sooooooo frowned upon these days, it'll just have to be of the emotional variety. 

Hey, blame society that I can't beat my kid!

;-)


...good god do I talk a lot...

On Friday, I attended my youngest brother's high school graduation. 

This wasn't so bad in and of itself.  I didn't mind that they kept almost all the lights off until the hat-throwing bit.  Or the trite little class valedictorian and salutatorian speeches that sounded almost exactly like every speech given in an eighties college movie.  It was even nice to finally see all my brothers, even if the one who doesn't really know if he's my brother or not though not for lack of explanation. 


Ah, fond remembrance.

I am made of awesome dipped in win.  Why you may ask? 

Whilst the missus is away on her "knitting retreat" (I use quotes because I know it's really just an excuse for a weekend of binge drinking and snark ;) ), I have:

• Cleared the clog in the bathroom sink.
• Brushed the dog.
• Cleaned Little Man's room.
• Cleaned the kitchen counters.
• Done all of the dishes (yes, even the ones nowhere near the sink).
• Mopped the kitchen floor.
• Cleared the basement shower drain.
• Resealed the shower tiles.
• "Acquired" some British TV per drunken request.
• And cleaned up all the harddisks on the desktop computer.

Bwah!  Of course, I'm still wired at half-past 2 in the morning and Little Dude will probably be waking in about 5 or so hours.  But hey, tons of stuff done.  Tons more to do.

• Cleaning the living room!
• Cleaning the TV room!
• Calling AAA!
• Fixing the truck tire!
• Burning that BBC DVD for the drunken knitters!
• Watching my NetFlix DVD in a reasonable amount of time!
• Not strangling my son!

...why are my vacation weekends the ones where I clean everything like mad?

Maybe it's the 18 hour day.  Maybe it's that I trimmed my beard Sunday.  Maybe it's that my cap is ratty and tattered around the bill and closer to maroon in color rather than black.

But I didn't recognize my reflection in the mirror a few minutes ago.

It kinda resembled me in some details, but it just didn't look like what I've been seeing for the past 9 years (when I essentially decided shaving was too much work).  That's just crazy and cliched and I'm not sure I like it.

I'm still a few years away from 30, dammit!

Had a great 8th anniversary the other day.  There was plenty of riding and thrifting and making of plans.  Why a little over eight years ago, ne_today 's grandfather was telling me, "Son, now if you have any doubts, now's the time to run.  'Cause once they start walkin' outta there, it's gonna be too late.  Understand?"  Ah, what a merry adventure marriage is, eh?

Since the laptop died, I consoled myself by picking up a small HP Pavilion 6636 for $2.50 and a network card.  I've been tinkering around with it, trying to see where I can cram another harddrive.  It's only got 12 Gb free, but hey, a really cheap investment (and it'll actually be able to run photoshop and painter if I win those cheap memory auctions on eBay!).

Today, however, was a day of cleaning.  Oh and the post-holiday cleaning that was had!

• The kitchen has been scrubbed and cleaned to within an inch of its life.
• The living room has been emptied of all crap and cleaned, well, not nearly as much but damn, we found our couch again!
• Little Dude's room has been cleaned, his big-boy bed installed, and mini-blinds replaced.  I can't wait to see how he reacts once he finds his Batman sheets waiting for him.
• I've settled on a domain name for my up-and-coming art site for all my original work.  Go me.
• Found that missing Netflix DVD so it can be sent back...  finally!
• Boxed up Random's monitor for shipping... though now I have to confirm his address because the LAPTOP DIED OMG WHAT'LL I DO?!?!
• Tweaked the new PC and confirmed that the flash drives aren't killing EVERYTHING electronic.
• Cleaned out my awesome monster of a pick-up truck!
• Donated so much crap to Goodwill and other places.
• Picked up chocolate chip cookies from Max & Erma's.

Haven't had time for much writin' or drawin' but hey, the New Year awaits.

Okay, subconscious.  Seriously.  What the hell?

Wednesday morning, I'm waking up at 6:30am so I can prep Little Dude's pre-school clothes and finish his newsbook drawing.  Nothing major, I do this every morning regardless of whether I sleep or not.  Only I wake up with a splitting headache, almost as bad as the killer migraine from when I was 18 (which is the only pain I've ever experienced to wake my ass up out of a dead sleep).

Or so I think.

Turns out, I wake up again, this time with the alarm beeping and no headache.  Bleary red numbers tell me it's 6:30am.  For a minute or two after I slap the alarm off, I sit in bed and check to make sure I'm not going to need to take some Excedrin.  Nada.  So I continue with my regularly scheduled prep work.  Once kiddo and ne_today are on their way out the door, I clean up the kitchen, take out the garbage, yada yada.  Just my chores before I try to get some shut-eye and resync up with my night shift cycle.  I work an oh-so enviable 6pm - 6am shift every couple days (with alternating Fri-Sun's off) and this time it's Wednesday and Thursday.  I'm in bed by 10:30am and all is well.  That is, until I wake up around 3pm with a really scratchy throat, dry and painful sinuses and what I suspect might be a fever.

Or so I think.

4pm rolls around and with it my alarm clock.  I sit up expecting low-grade torture only to find nothing's wrong.  Only I have no way of knowing, because this is the second time that day that I've thought I was ill.  I spend the next 20 minutes in what could probably equate to the lamest acid trip ever.  I feel okay, but my brain somehow insists that I can't be.

And that's how my day started.