I bought Aliens for the 4th time in my life. When is it going to end? This time it was the super 52-days-of-extra-shit edition, so I suppose it's justified. They had some good bits with Syd Mead and Ron Cobb that were awesome, and Apone threatens to kill the entire cast like 4 times. BLISS.
Something done between pages, for a t-shirt. I'm probably in the shittiest mood ever recorded right now for variou$ rea$on$, and just spent the last ten minutes threatening to 'fucking murder' a micron cus it had an eraser crumb stuck on the tip. I leave this post as a record, before I slip deeper and deeper into dementia... the homicide detectives will take careful notes on my mood icon below (and my wicked bangin' tracks!).
The Mrs. is back in Seattle for a couple weeks, so I've been left to my own devices. I tend to wander the neighborhood at strange hours in the night, and generally go unfed for days. Maybe I'm spoiled.
Oh, 2006. The year my hair was nigh 2 meters tall.
I've taken to embracing my newfound exile quite well. My days are filled with ironic Farley Mowat novels, Napoleon hats, and icey tundra adventures. The Mrs. went to see the lawyers today, and they promptly let me know that I am officially fucked. But it's cool, they said it while wearing powdered wigs and robes.
David gave a good suggestion the other day about how since I can't go to conventions, I should just have a floating brain in a liquid filled jar take my place, complete with speaker phone line. We have the technology!
I'm literally spooging away at Wonton Soup 2: Twoton Hyper Wonton Soup 2 (the official name), trying to get it done within the week. It's becoming a lot bigger than I originally planned, cus I have a shit habit of starting a new scene every other day, and trying to make it fit within the whole story. I don't think that I've ever drawn a comic from first page to last page before.
So, I got deported, unable to enter the States for at least 5 years. Apparently it is illegal to do a $75 commission in America, cus it's classified as work. All those long, non-existant days of going into the non-existant office to work my non-existant day job are gone. It's almost like they don't even exist anymore.
Now, me and the ladyfriend (now fiance!) gotta either spend untold riches to get a lawyer to get this fat bitch overturned, or spend untold riches to move all our stuff (SO MUCH STUFF, BRANDON!!) to Vancouver and find a new apartment. Either way, our sweet sweet untold riches, along with any plans I had for the next half decade, also don't exist anymore.
Anyways, fuck the police/free Tibet/kill whitey and all that, I'm going to go drown my woes in the thick meaty thighs of sandwiches. Here's some explodey buildings for some thing I will probably never finish.
Today I start my "getting wicked stoned" scene in Wonton. It will start with some weird alien fridge packing eggs into his face while screaming "WE EAT OUR YOUNG!!" and a face will grow out of Deacons head which will narrate the rest of the adventure. Other than that, I have no idea what I will do so any suggestions will be much appreciated.
I'm sure this has been posted in all circles of my universe already, but that weird prison-planet creature that used to sleep on my couch, SHELDON needs some votes for his douchey little Zuda comic.