Friday, February 26, 2010

A Matter of Life and Polyblend!

I have a very serious question that I need some help with.

It's so serious in fact that I shall have to enter the cone of silence in order to ask it.

*Slips on giant plastic bubble*

Can you hear me?

Hello? I was wondering if . . . hello?! Testing, one two forty five.

If you're blue and you don't know where to go to why don't you go where fashion sits?

Never mind, the cone of silence is a bust. See if I buy any surplus supplies from the Get Smart set again, though I have heard good things about this shoe phone.

Anyway the question is, which of these do you like?

The context; however, might also help you in making a decision. Long story short, I decided to try putting my Zombie Valentine on a T-shirt only now I have no idea which color it looks best with.

We have the traditional valentine red that really brings forth the idea that this zombie is in the mood for some brain nibbling:

Or there's black which makes Mr Zombie man really shine through though I'm afraid the perforated edge I gave it so it'd look like one of those old valentines you'd give in grade school is lost more.

And because every multiple choice needs a C, here's gray. I like gray, I look good in it but I'm not so sure if it meshes well with my doodle (he he, I said doodle).

I really can't choose between then all. Which do you like best? And you can be all brutally honest, I'm just getting one for myself and then I'll probably delete it from my Cafe Press shop.

Red, Black or Gray?

And you only have 30 hours in which to decide!

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Your tastebuds on strike

I have just tasted the worst product ever marketed to womankind.

It's so bad I am flabbergasted that it ever got out of a taste panel, but then I remember things advertised like hell such as Pepsi Blue that you couldn't GIVE away to college students. I'm starting to think taste panels are composed entirely of people who like to snort salt in their spare time.

I found it one grocery shopping day in a bin mixed up with fellow odd flavor brethren the store was trying to be rid of. What can I say, my curiosity was peaked but oh how I now regret picking up that little cup.

May I present the worst tasting thing I've had in a very long time:
I can about imagine how the commitee meeting went to lead to this monstrosity.

Women like coffee, right? They're always swamped around my local Starbucks. And they can't stop eating yogurt because they're one bowel movement away from collapsing in on themselves. So let's combine the two!

End Scene

How do I go about describing the horrors this thing unleashed not only upon my tastebuds but also my stomach, the sensory centers of my brain and for some reason my pancreas?

Imagine you're trapped in a room and the only way you can get out is if you have a cup of coffee, except all that's left in the pot are the burnt dregs. You think that you could try and resuspend that in something and drink that.

Except the only liquid you have is some very sour milk that's been sitting on the counter for a while.

So in order to gain your freedom you slurp down burnt coffee grounds mixed in milk that's sourer than a warhead.

And that's just what this coffee yogurt tastes like, only times about 30 on the awful factor and a log higher on the WTF scale.

This is more proof that all new and latest food stuffs are actually determined by a chicken and a mouse that got one of those magnetic word puzzles and an abundance of corn.

Just watch, the next thing to grace your supermarket shelves will be Pork Cereal or Cheese Salmon. And I'll be right there trying it because I'm a food masochist it seems.

Have you discovered anything so god awful lately you can't believe they even trying to market it?

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

All relationships are like sitcoms

Another MSN Article, another necessary trouncing. *Word of warning, after you read this you will hate any and everything ever associated with love*

14 Moments That Define a Relationship

 Sabrina::Thanks to numerous tests and millions of dollars in funding scientists have determined the exact second a person is in a relationship. They figure they'll use it to sell Viagra to the masses somehow.

Step back to examine just where you are on the road of your relationship

Sabrina::Help, I'm stuck in the Iowa of my relationship and my car just broke down. 

and take pleasure in all of your firsts — from first kiss, to fighting

Sabrina::I have a scrapbook devoted to all those first fights called Treasured Plate Throwing. Brings a tear to my eye.

to murmuring those three little words.

Sabrina::Just Stop Farting!

Shared first experiences in come in many forms.

Sabrina::I'd rather it come in many colors. Who doesn't want a paisley relationship?

But which ones should you relish and remember and which ones are just you being mushy over?

Sabrina::The internet, here to tell you what thoughts you have that are good and which are wrong and make you Hitler for having.

In relationship world, we say they all count. Here are our top 14 relationship firsts.

Sabrina::Somehow I imagine they left out the first time you got trapped in a dumpster while fighting a team of ninja bears.

1. The First Talk Until Dawn

Sabrina::Falling in love while being pursued by Freddy Krueger is so cliche.

Astronomers say it takes just over eight minutes for light from the sun to reach the earth.

Sabrina::But we blew all our money on this stupid study so we'll just say magical elves do it with a chariot made out of pancakes.

And that's about how long it feels you've been talking, though it's been over eight hours.

Sabrina::Ears bleeding, tongue falling out. Can't take any more of this verbiage torture!

"My God, look at the time!" you both say, cursing the violet sky.

Sabrina::As Frances obliterates us from the face of the planet as revenge for all the action movies where the Effiel tower is the first landmark to get knocked down.

But it's a good sign if all you want to do is talk for a few million more trips into space and back.

Sabrina::So the first sign you're in a relationship is if you have a hankering for some cannabis laced with dish detergent. Gotcha.

2. The First Kiss
We know: Duh.

Sabrina::Seriously, why the hell are you reading this? A deranged caterpillar with a grudge against the world put it together. He's laughing at you for daring to read anymore. Why are you encouraging the evil caterpillar?

But how could we not mention that Big Red moment?

Sabrina::Big Red? Either you are referring to the first time you chewed a brand of gum, your first Husker game (which really is a major first in Nebraska) or this is talking about a much dirtier first kiss than I'd previously thought. I salute you deranged caterpillar.

It's like no other feeling in the world.

Sabrina::It's like being shot out of a cannon while covered in fire ants and enjoying a nice quiche with bacon. Because no one else in all of human history has kissed. NEVER!

3. When He Introduces You As "My Girlfriend"

 Sabrina::. . . just sat in the pie, I'm very sorry. I don't know what the hell's wrong with her.

It's so utterly high school that the title still straightens your spine.

Sabrina::So the Girlfriend moniker is a treatment for scoliosis?  Does this work if the patient is a male or is that entire gender just somehow goaded and trapped into a relationship with the use of shiny things?

But how can it not?

Sabrina::Because you're actually an adult and don't feel the need to tie your happiness to having a society approved relationship?

You're now officially pinned,

Sabrina::To a piece of cardboard so he can show off your beautiful wings to museum goers.


Sabrina::after he knocked on your melons a few times, pushed in your apple skin with a nail and dropped a coconut on a sparrows head.


Sabrina::Hold still honey, our monogram poker is almost done in the fire.


Sabrina::Why the hell you'd want someone who stuck pins in your skin, treated you like fruit and put hot pokers into your flesh is anyones guess though.

4. The First Morning After

 Sabrina::After what? After you sled the Himalayas on a pizza box? After you recataloged every document in the library of congress in order of what would make the best reality show? Context people.

Some guys you wouldn't share a beet salad with, let alone a whole night.

Sabrina::Did this thing just say as a female it's normal to not want to sleep with every human with a penis? Do women really need to be reminded of this fact or are you afraid if you don't constantly remind us we'll suddenly jump any male that crosses our path?

"You want coffee?" he asks the next morning, tossing the duvet your way

Sabrina::Looks like you slept with another moron who confused bed linens with hot beverages again. Remember Roger, the man who tried to stuff your throw pillows into a mug of tea? Where do you find these guys anyway?

as he pads to the kitchen.

Sabrina::and uses this as an excuse to grab his pants and high tail it out of there.

"Please," he's saying by the ease of his actions, "stay".

Sabrina::Which comes across as really weird if it's your apartment. So women want to be branded, need to be reminded to NOT sleep with anything that passes them, and will never have sex in their own place. Women are a strange creature.

5. The First "I Love You"

 Sabrina::When do we get to the biggies? The first time he takes out the garbage? The first piece of Ikea you build together? The first International Spy you gun down together to save the world? You know, relationship backbones.

Jessica Simpson seems content to proclaim her love through national magazines.

Sabrina::Just how old is this? I thought her only problem now is dating douchebags. Maybe this whole article was written just for her actually.

For the rest of us, though, the moment is fraught with anxiety: What if he stares at us blankly?

Sabrina::What if I left the oven on? What if zebras rampage through my living room?

What if we're saying it too soon,

Sabrina::What if tiny Elvis really is living in his brain commanding him to kill all those hobos?

and ... Sorry, what was that? You do? Oh, thank God.

Sabrina::What was that? A man say the L word first? You must be joking, men have no feelings. It's been scientifically proven by a hummingbird with a headache.

6. The First "We"

Sabrina::The first We-ebelos? The first We-imaraner? The first time you get stuck watching WE TV together?

The first time you write "we" in an e-mail to your friends — and they don't write back, "We? Who the heck is we?"

Sabrina::Crap, so on top of the branding thing, the boning anything in our path and the constant need to internalize every random day to day activity in a mental scrapbook women can also never use the first person plural pronoun in electronic conversations with their friends. I guess that "Jen and I were thinking of going to the movies, but then WE decided against it" shall never be seen by another female on the face of the planet.

I'd also point out how quaint an e-mail is, but caterpillars aren't known for being the most technologically advanced.

7. The First Time You Fight (and Make Up)

 Sabrina::Awe, I wanted to remember the first time we fought and then killed each other in a duel. Huge Burr and Hamilton fans.

Let's be honest: If you never fight, someone's not speaking up.

Sabrina::Duct tape, it's like the force. There's a light side and a dark side and if you put it over someones mouth you never have to hear about Han shooting first ever again.

Consider it like an oil change: a healthy way to clean out gunk so you can get back to the joy ride.

Sabrina::See, you've had this horrible leak coming from the coolant system in your relationship. It's clean dissolved through your relationship engine and for some reason your muffler fell off too. Oh and it needs new spark plugs, but may I suggest a much dirtier article for that.

8. The First Trip Together

Sabrina::I'll forever treasure the first time my love and I drove to Target to pick up a pack of Q-tips and some toilet paper. I had the receipt preserved in Lucite. *sniff*

What better way to gauge how you'll fare on your journey through life than to see how you survive hours of snaking security lines?

Sabrina::Want to know the best way to cause an aneurysm in someone? Keep telling them that every random annoyance of life is actually a test of the strength of their relationship. The dryer didn't totally dry the clothes, he doesn't love you enough. You didn't get the garbage cans out in time, he puts work ahead of your needs. Your lover will have a stroke in two weeks, tops.

It's also when you establish who'll get the window seat for the duration of your relationship — so act fast, woman.

Sabrina::Best take control now. If left to their own devices males will slowly devolve into towel wearing ape like creatures that spend their time sitting in ditches shoving berries up their noses, scientific!

9. First Grocery-Shopping Trip Together

Sabrina::Nothing says love like a dollar off hamburger helper coupon.

You know how his lips taste after a workout and a cold beer.

Sabrina::Let's play the count the stereotypes in this single paragraph. Even better we'll make it a drinking game. We got man likes beer, take a shot.

You know to give him five minutes alone when he shakes his head in a "work sucked" kind of way.

Sabrina::Man can't share his feelings, and man only stresses about work. Swig down a twofer.

But to watch this man slip a family-size Fruit Loops into the basket with a dopey grin on his face —

Sabrina::Man is really a boy and will, if left alone, only survive on breakfast cereal and cold beer. Take a cereal bowl sized shot.

that's when you realize you still have worlds to learn about each other.

Sabrina::Oh and women are shrews who never enjoy a good Fruit Loop over their yogurt or iceberg lettuce. It's getting a little hard to see from all these shots. Where'd I put the bottle?

10. The First Time You Get Control of His Car/Remote/iPod

Sabrina::I'm picturing a series of Rube Golberg traps involving a train, one of those cymbal banging monkeys and a python to actually wrench it out of his hands. I'd say take another shot, but we already tore through all the liquor in my house to just get here.

Seriously, you don't know how hard it is for him to hand over something he worships so much.

Sabrina::Hail Remote, full of buttons, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among electronics, and blessed is the fruit of thy batteries, Television. Holy Remote, Mother of distraction, pray for us loafers, now and at the hour of our show. Amen

Not as much as he worships you, of course, but close. Scary close.

Sabrina::If you don't get that thing away from him, he's going to kill you!

11. The First Time You See a Future with Him

Sabrina::Pull out the Ouiji board, your mom's makeup, and the whipped cream and you can have yourself a slumber party.

Some women could imagine having a future with the guys in a J. Crew catalog.

Sabrina::Not only will women sleep with any man on the planet they also harbor strange fantasies of settling down with pieces of paper that couldn't survive a light breeze. Women are clearly out of their collective minds.

But with the man you love, the future you see is sure-footed and sane: A foot rub after a long day.

Sabrina::That's the entire basis for a future with someone? The dissemination of foot rubs? Nothing else? Pedicurists must all be raging bigamists then.

A laundry basket and a loving squeeze (though if he's folding, you really are dreaming).

Sabrina::Men can't handle the basics of cleaning their clothes, ha ha ha. It's so funny it makes me want to stab out my eyes with pins. Take another shot.

12. The First Time You Realize You're No Longer Primping for Him

Sabrina::I had high hopes at first from the clearly sex deranged caterpillar but alas he's let us down this time. Unless maybe the r snuck in there on accident.

Whoops! You're sitting on the couch in your baggiest sweats and rattiest T-shirt.

Sabrina::How dare you be comfortable? You were cursed with two X chromosomes and to make up for it you must spend hours chained to the bathroom counter beautifying yourself or face your womb remaining barren.

Yet he's looking at you more lovingly than when you're all gussied up. Clearly, my dear, this is the real deal.

Sabrina::Or you're just sitting on that remote he worships like a golden calf.

13. The First Time You Take Care of Something Together

Sabrina::You know *nudge* that "thing" you took care of together. With the cement shoes and the shallow grave. *wink*

It doesn't really matter if it's a tomato garden or Rufus the drooling French bulldog.

Sabrina::Or if you cross breed them and get Rufus the drooling tomato garden. Which is what we're doing next with our generous grant donation. Cancer, schmancer.

But when you're both responsible for taking care of another living thing, your pairing becomes much more important. Be proud as you watch it grow.

Sabrina::These have been two of the dumbest most insipid people on the face of the planet. I wouldn't trust them to watch after a dust bunny much less another living being.

14. The First Time You Commit to Each Other

 Sabrina::That's the most romantic speech I've ever seen. "Honey I've branded you, I let you near my beloved iPod, you feed me only fruit loops and I don't mind that you look like a rotten apple some Sundays. I've decided to commit to you."

We're talking long-term commitment, through thick and thin.

Sabrina::This can only mean one thing, spit brothers.

On the one hand, it feels a bit like picking partners in the schoolyard. ("You want me on your team? Really? Me too!")

Sabrina::Oh I'm pretty sure the two people in this article would make most gradeschoolers look like adults by comparison.

On the other, it's a watershed moment, when you find yourself so profoundly lucky that someone you adore so much feels exactly the same way about you.

Sabrina::And about two years later you take it for what it really is, neither of you wanted to die alone so you settled for the beer swilling tv worshiping man child who can't figure out how to fold a towel that must have fallen out of a sitcom.

Isn't love grand.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

I love trees!

So I told you all how Valentines Day was trying to kill me because I couldn't give two figs about it (why do we give things we care about figs anyway? If we only halfheartedly care do we give someone a fig newton?).

If I was smart I should have covered myself from head to toe in red and run through the streets reciting Sonnets while handing out free chocolate. Alas, creativity struck in another direction and I holed myself up in my workshop of wonders (in that it's a wonder I can get anything done in the mess) and put brush to canvas creating this.
The tree line easily took four hours as I added one layer after another to give that full stretched out to the horizon look.

You can see what I mean in this close up:
First the super tiny light blue layer, then the slightly larger navy, and finally the full tree black layer. My hand was cramping up like crazy with all that delicate work so I took lots of breaks to watch my husband beat up Joker's cronies or played ball with the house bound puppy.

I got this bad boy up in my store here. In the meantime I've been working on some surprisingly repeat customer Wedding Dress paintings, they make good Bridal Shower gifts I guess.

And that's what I did on Valentines Day, made a blue forest with a silvery moon. Not a drop of pink in sight.

Next year it's going to take me down with a trained team of teddy bear ninjas.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Valentine is trying to kill me!

I make no false pretenses in pretending that I care for or do not wish bodily harm upon the Hallmark approved day of love.

I'd say ever since my gradeschool days of pecking and hunting through the mushy "Won't you be my valentine?" pieces of cardboard to find ones that wouldn't cause you to turn beet red if given to a male that you neither like or even find to be a decent human being.

Something about the mandated need to LOVE LOVE LOVE! really got under my skin. So Valentines day and I have always not gotten along. In my earlier days I flirted with the Anti-Val day crowd. Wearing black, getting together with friends to celebrate Not Love, watching a lot of Lord of the Rings (not completely applicable to all Anti-Val crowds just the ones I run with).

Then I started seeing my husband and hate gave way to ennui. I just couldn't care less about Valentines day, and started to do my best to keep it to myself. Let those who enjoy it slog through a restaurant and movie, I'd sit at home with a book and the puppy gnawing on a bone. Some years I started to forget what day it was.

Except, this year, Valentines decided to fight back. Apparently like rampaging billboards and d-level celebrities the easiest way to piss off a holiday is to ignore it.

My husband and I always get our weekly groceris on Sunday, normally it's pretty empty then if we beat the "just out of church" crowd and we don't run into any maddening 12 hour sales unexpectedly (that's a rather entertaining story in itself that left us tossing jars of applesauce and running for our lives).

I forgot that every store around this "celebration of the day a man was decapitated" must fill itself to the rafters with everything pink and red and if they can swing it every piece of floral man has ever genetically engineered.

There were roses stashed away in every aisle of the store, daisies hidden among the canned goods, and for some reason a rather menacing Audrey II hanging out at the cash registers.

You had to walk past all the flowers to get in the door and get to produce. As I was passing by it hit me like a punch to the face, the fumes from the flowers were so overwhelming I gasped and choked making a mad dash to the bananas.

My constantly stuffed up husband said he smelled the flowers a bit, I just looked at him through watery eyes like he was mad. But we still had ricotta and hoison sauce to pick up. So I shrugged off the flower attack and continued on with my grocery meandering.

Only the flowers weren't going to let me out of their petal grasp. Down the first aisle I felt my throat getting a bit itchy, by the second it was definetly partially closed, the third my nose was burning and by the fourth it felt like someone had punched my eye and I was getting light headed.

I'd never been allergic to flowers before but my mother has always had bad ones to holiday plants - poinsettias, Christmas trees and Easter lilies, and allergies have a nasty habit of lying in wait and waiting to pounce and tear you to shreds when you least expect it (like a lion that lives in your DNA).

We ran for the checkout and once that cold crisp air hit my nose the pressure started to lift. Either I have become allergic to something blooming in that floral landscape or Valentine finally took his revenge on me.

So I guess now I will just have to avoid all those flower shops and lovey dovey extravaganzas around Val day from now on. I don't know how I shall survive. Oh wait, yes I do. Extended Edition!

Finally, here's my belated Val Day gift for all of you:

Zombies make everything better.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Fairly Friday Fun (FFFF)

So turn off that brain, get a giant cup of some sort of beverage (I won't judge if there's a liberal addition of spirits assuming one is willing to share), and settle in for some good old fashioned gleened off twitter humor.

I'm an occasional hashtagger (I can quit anytime I want, now give me that #) which means that when the mood strikes I'll join in a random joke here and there but I don't make it my lifes work (that's cataloging every time the word "marmalade" is used in a move.) Today I spotted a topic that caught my eye and I thought I could spin a bit then share.

Why We Broke Up - The fairy tale edition

1. I got tired of all the woodland creatures in the bathroom staring at me - #whySnowWhitebrokeup

2. You actually look like a dying weasel when you're sleeping. - #whySleepingBeautybrokeup

3. I like chicks with short hair. - #whyRapunzalbrokeup

4. That was supposed to be our dinner! #whyPrincessandthePeabrokeup

5. You left a fine layer of slime all over the kitchen - #whytheLittleMermaidbrokeup

6. Everyone knows I looked hotter as the Beast  - #whyBellebrokeup

7. Our closet is so full of shoes I think we lost a foot servant in there. #whyCinderellabrokeup

8. Every time I call you, you threaten me with gold or a baby. #whyRumpelstiltskinbrokeup 

9.  I'd rather spend my time with a monkey and a rug that can't talk. #whyAladdinbrokeup

10. I found a better pair but in fuchsia with larger buckles #whyPussinBootsbrokeup. 

And that's my twitter funny for Friday.  Anyone else want to join in my Fairy Tale Break up game? There are still lots of Disney Princesses ripe for the picking on.

Now go and share the Friday Joy. I have to get counting, I just got "How Marmalade was the Valley" from Netflix. 

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

The Big Boss fights

You may remember a few weeks back I talked about the Monday Demon Warriors, a sort of Role Playing Game I formed on Twitter where we fight the typical Monday Demons everyone has to deal with and have a good quaff afterward.

For each trip I rework the map a bit to show where everyones heading, give a little quest info and sit back to watch the madness.

Oh there's one other thing too, I create the Big Boss (or as I keep calling them The Big Baddie).

I thought I might show off my photoshop prowess (or lack there of) by sharing the past three weeks fights highs, lows and cheetos.

This was the snooze button of death, discovered at the Land of Nod after defeating Count Chocula:
But the Darth Maul infested alarm clock with tentacles that could zap your energy was easily defeated once we figured out the trick (Darth Maul loves Snickers, who knew?)

Come the next week we were off on a triumphant battle of epic proportions (or we just had to check our messages from the e-mail chasm).
Things were going well, the Candy Cane Alien Queen was burbling in a mass of candy goo thanks to the liberal use of her acidic blood (really bad idea to hang out in sugar land with such a vulnerability really) and everyone else seemed to be on a coffee break.

We were skipping merilly along when we came across the E-mail Chasm but it was under attack!
You don't know annoyance til you've had to fight off flying spam. No I don't want your Viagra infused Nigerian Prince. And the submerged phishing ones were the worst, popping up between your legs trying to get a DNA sample to create an evil clone.

About the only way to defeat a can of flying spam is to rip open the top and throw a stick of dynamite in. Or get yourself a fire mage, those are great at just about anything up to and including making sure no one in your party has eyebrows anymore.

But you're all here for our latest fight, and it was quite a doozy.
There were reports of strange disturbances coming from Grandma Nutts place (Stranger than usual at least, and the great Enchanter Tim was nowhere to be found).

As you can see, you do a lot of backtracking in Monday Land but how else can one keep going back to base camp to refill his or her coffee thermos?

Anyway, the big boss fight. The whole reason anyones still reading and probably the most disturbing I've come up with.

Just as we were approaching Nutt's shack a vision appeared before our minds. It showed us strange and wondrous things, people dancing and singing while holding tightly onto aluminum cans, some sort of chip encrusted berserker, talking babies who must be running the Cheerios Mafia or something.

It was horrifying, soul crushing. And just when I was sure our brains would melt out of our ears from the Dodge ads they appeared.

The Death Eater Mad Men!
I'd love to tell you how we were able to defeat these mental demons but I'm still trapped in their 50's June Cleaver hell!

HELP! Someone send reinforcements! Maybe throw a blogger or two at them! Just get me out of here!

Oh God NO! They're going to make me watch Cleaning commercials again! Normal people don't have mops stalking them!

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

From the workshop


Como estas? Feliz Cumpleaños. Donde esta el baño? (That's what two years of High school spanish gets you.)

It's been a while since I pulled back the fourth wall and let you all into my little workshop, so I thought I'd share (it would be quite the tease to say I'm going to and then not though). Most of it's glycerin related but there is one painting, which I'll just get out of the way now.

I have a twitter friend that always shares lovely moon pictures which inspire me, and this time I wanted to go for more of a laying on your back perspective with trees. But still keep it just black and white because it's such an interesting contrast

How about I just show the picture instead of trying to explain it.
Because I'm just so awesome at titles I called it Moon through the trees - Grabs at you about as much as Arrangement in Grey and Black, eh?

Now for fun soaps, we've had them made for a while but I've been slowly listing so people don't get glutted with the awesomeness of organ shaped soaps.

There's a stomach that smells like banana bread (mostly bananas and nuts but it's really tasty)
BRRAAAINS! Because what's a zombies bathroom without a few brain soaps:
No one can pass up the hand soap joke, but I like that ours isn't so life like in color but detail:
Can I have your liver then?
And finally for the super nerd, some flasks for all those evil Mad Scientist experiments.
I'll be having a de-stash/grab bag later where I'll put some test soaps up for cheap. They're just fine but I really don't need all the ones I made for pictures sitting around staring at me with their dermis and nephrons.

Monday, February 8, 2010

We made it baby!

After the Rifftrax Christmas special last year I came back home with an idea for a cute little inside joke/cartoon in my head.

I sat down, doodled the thing out, gave it some color then shared it across the internets. I figured a few people would be entertained with it, but amazingly it got a good 300 views and was even tweeted by one of the writers of the show.

Then life moved on, I drew a tasteless Furby cartoon and we all tried to survive the great Yeti attacks of Christmas 2009.

Last week someone dug up my old cartoon praising its tree like ways and noticeable lack of having an account of any kind. Which finally made me decide, I should put that sucker on a T-shirt.

Naturally I didn't want to put to much effort into it, so in enters Cafe Press where everyone goes to make quick t-shirts on the internet.

It wasn't too hard to set up, just upload the image and make your selections for what to sell (I also stuck it on a clock and apron because I thought it was hilarious, as you can see my sense of humor lies somewhere in the spectrum of Vaudeville and a hyena that got into a nitrous oxide plant).

Then Tweet about the shop and you're on your way (okay since I had no plans to make a cent off the shirts it was easier because there was no entering monetary info).

This is taking too long. Just skip to the good part.

Here's my design on a T-Shirt!
And because just one other twitter friend has so far jumped on the accountless tree bandwagon I'll be one of only two people in the world to own one.

It was so much fun to do, and cool to have a copy of my work I can advertise a bit better maybe if I make another popular design (perhaps a bit more accessible to those who can't make a certain live event) I'll do more shirts.


Now I want to switch gears completely and talk about the bowl of supper from last night. More specifically I'd like to talk to Madison Avenue guys, meet me at Camera three.

Hi, I'm sure right now you're all patting yourselves on the back for what you thought was a winning pass to the endzone but I'm here to wave this yellow flag in your face and call you for holding and unnecessary douchebaggery.

See, I know in your little world it's only men who watch the Super Bowl spending 9 months revving up with their mural sized TVs, bathtub salsa and a recliner that should reside in Versailles. Women are something on the fringe, possibly the suppliers of chips who otherwise just, I don't know, knit sweaters for cats in the background.

How else to explain the round of horrific, dull, mind numbingly misogynistic commercials this year.

You may all want to sit down for this because I'm about to rock your world. Women actually watch the game.

Quick! Someone get the smelling salts!

Yes, not only do they see these commercials calling them all harpies and soul destroyers out to devour those bros whose money you want some even tune in just for those. And you just insulted half of your possible buying power Dodge, Dockers, Doritos (I love how the three worst all start with a D, they're the Triple Douches), Bridgestone and Budweiser (oh right in your world women never drink beer too), actually it might be even higher than half as women seem to make many of the purchase decisions in the household.

If you were a chemist would you get to keep your job if your new drug worked only 65% of the time and the other 45% of your consumers died off?

You need a better illustration of what you're doing to yourselves? Take out your wallets, remove your money, now set half of it on fire. That's pretty much what your "Bros before Hos" attitude is doing to the bottom dollar.

The super bowl has almost next to nothing to do with football in this country any more. Sure some tune in for what is supposed to be the best game of the year (which is highly debatable anymore, last night really felt like a college game to me to the point where I was waiting for a college ad to pop up) but it's become much more than that.

Like New Years, people gather not to usher in the New Year with a celebration to embrace change but an excuse to get trashed, eat comforting food and hang out with friends.

The super bowl has become a chance to party hearty and who's job is it always to plan the parties (at least according to Wal-Mart), that's right the half of the population you spent all night insulting.

I think this flowchart nicely illustrates just what I'm getting at (found here):
You played hard (or not really at all, judging by that contemptible Dodge ad, seriously was anyone even trying or did you just dig up a 1950's comic?) and as they say there's always next year. But I'm thinking you need a few years out before you're ready.

Maybe send you back down to the minors to perfect your dunking skills and then we'll see about letting you back into the rink.

What do you mean I'm mixing sports metaphors? I'm just a girl, right Madison Avenue, I don't know nothing about that football stuff. Now if I were you I'd get out of here before I'm called for kicking you all in the nuts.

Friday, February 5, 2010

Twitter, an unsuccesful guide

Twitter, the revolution sweeping the world as it links you to the lunch Ashton Kutcher had yesterday. Only with Web (what are we at now, 3.5 at least) can you get that kind of information. Before twitter you'd have to wait weeks to see just what color of nail polish Courtney Love painted her dog and if Ice-T bothered to take his trash cans in yet.

Now, it's instant.

*uh huh, yeah you think anyone will buy that? Fine*

I have just been told that apparently there's some social aspect for non celebrities on twitter. Yeah I don't get it either. I was so sure the entire point of twitter was to validate people whose main talent is looking pretty on camera.

The web is littered with helpful guides on how to set up your account, how to get lots of followers and just your general successfullness guaranteed if you send then a dollar. So I thought I'd toss my own hat into the quagmire with my own list:

How NOT to Succeed on Twitter: A comprehensive list from the top of my head because I just got into a hashtag game that's way more fun than this thing.

Revenge of the Fallen

  1.  Before you're ready to start twittering (as is the happening lingo) you'll need to pick a username. If you really want to fail spectacularly at writing the bird I suggest you pick the longest most incomprehensible name possible "HimynameisdougandIreallylikeCheese" that way anytime someone goes to contact you they have to keep their message as short as possible because your name eats up so many characters.

    "@johnsjusthadareallynicesandwich ur names too lon"

    It'll make it incredibly annoying and next to impossible for anyone to contact you, leaving you free to socially connect with spam bots and your own mouse.

    Or, if long isn't your thing you could always try dirty. Put a few random capitalizations in there, at least five X's and everyone will label you a spam bot and unfollow you instantly.

  2. You've picked your name now to fill out all that other interesting stuff so people get a nice rounded view of you right off the bat, right? NAH!

    No one wants to know that you're a sales rep from Utah, or a dolphin trainer in Saskatchewan. And they certainly aren't interested if you're currently on a deep space mission for the FBI. So keep all that personal interesting stuff to yourself.

  3. Av's, avatars, avalon. Call it what you like but it's the worlds window into your soul. People don't have time to read and form an idea of your personality based upon your tweets, they need something concrete and visual to help them sum up instantly if you're worthy of their attention or not.

    Many people obsess over their avs, trying to find the best picture of themselves or an amalgum of their favorite hobbies. But they forget the five L's

    Loathsome, Laborius, Lousy, Loud and Lunchtime.

    Your av should be the most loathsome image anyone has ever seen (extra points if you stick a hitler mustache on it). It should be laborius to look at, I mean the biggest eye strain this side of those magic eye books (spiny and shiny gets you a few more credit bits). Lousy and loud explain themselves, if they haven't figured out how to attach a Lady Gaga soundclip to avs yet you might want to get to work on that.

    And of course Lunchtime because you've got more important things to do, so just steal one from your coworker and get back to your cob salad.

  4. You got your account, you have your tumbleweed filled bio and you've got your nauseating av. Time to start tweeting right?

    Not so fast, you're going to want to build up followers first. Followers are the bread crumbs of the Twitter world, while most ducks would be happy with a handful to keep them entertained and from blowing their little duck brain, the truly greedy demand at least a million crumbs so their livers explode into a foie gras festival.

    And how does one get so many followers? That's in all those other guides, this is how to be UNsucessful remember? So I have no idea how one gets a lot of people hanging off their every word (though it seems the trick is to have been on TV at least once and have absolutely nothing worth sharing).

    I'm here to teach you how to find and lose followers as fast as your fingers can type. But that'll have to wait for another number because I need to stretch this list out to 10 or my editors'll kill me.

  5.  On the side you'll see something called "Trending Topics." If you want to get a ton of people to follow who won't follow you back click on one of those topics and start adding every single name that comes up.

    Even if they look like they're 15, have a unibomber shack or are clearly three moneys in a trench coat add, add, add! No one will have a clue who you are, and because you won't have tweeted yet yourself or have any followers they'll assume you're a spam bot yourself and won't follow you back.

    This is doubly true for Spam Bots, secretly they hate each other and will fight tooth and nail to take down anyone else that is trying to sell Viagra to bored teenagers or vacuums to dolphins in house coats.

    With this advise you're sure to never have a single follower, and you'll probably wind up blocked a good dozen times over (and maybe on a few Michigan Militia guys lists).

  6.  But you screwed up, you tweeted "Hi, Mom" before going on your adding spree and now all of a sudden people are following you back.

    Don't worry, I can help you through this mess you got yourself into, dumbass. First you have to make a decision, you can either put no effort forth and expect it to take years for your account to die or spend two weeks at the computer going out in a blaze of glory that's sure to wind up with your picture a 4chan.

    For this number lets assume you want to go the light and easy way, it's quite simple really. Only tweet once a week, and even then just as a quick reply to someone famous like Colonel Sanders praising his biscuits. Slowly weed yourself off your twitter addiction so you're only getting on once a month, maybe a punitative "Is anyone here" at month 6 and by year two you'll have been deleted after everyone on your lists went through a spring cleaning.

  7. The blaze of glory is a lot more work and time, but also infinetly more fun.

    First, get yourself a giant bottle of your beverage of choice (we're talking keg sized) and say goodbye to any loved ones. Wedge yourself into the best computer chair sulk posture so your back resembles a jellyfish and get those fingers acracking.

    Type Type Type! Type about every disturbing and horrifying thought that's ever crossed your mind. Mention how you always thought you'd rather drink Burt Reynolds urine over Tom Sellecks. Or how if they really want football to be accurate they should replace the ball with a litter of piglets.

    While this will get rid of most of the normal people who were too nice to not delete you at first, you'll still have the freaks and monkeys to be rid of. Time to unleash part two.

  8. Re-tweeting is where a person copys and reposts what they, in theory, thought was a hilarious or well thought tweet from someone else.

    It's also the perfect way to annoy the hell out of everyone.

    First, you'll have to get yourself a copy of the MLA or just sit with open. Troll the twitter stream looking for anyone with a blatant mispelling or incorrect pronoun usage, split infinitives are a goldmine. Then retweet  "RT @Ilovepie That game was off da hook // I believe you meant it was off "the" hook."

    Do this for a few weeks (the Hitler mustache would come in super handy about now as well) before you unleash phase two. Now start to jump over perfectly acceptable spelling and grammar. RT @lollypopguild Just when the butterfly was about to emerge from the chrysalis my Mom showed up// It's spelled chrystler dumbass!

    Even becoming the Grammar Nazi of Twitter isn't enough to get rid of some people (those spam bots are notorius for gobbing onto your leg and requring the jaws of life or a lot of fire to be rid of).

  9.  So we move to the last and final tip on how to be as unsuccesful at twitter as one can be. You'll need a digital camera and the cooperation of Twitpic but I'm sure they can be convinced to go along with the right service agreement.

    Food is very popular on Twitter right now; what people are preparing, what they're eating, what they're wishing they could eat (actresses *shrug*). Why not take it to the next level. Upload pictures showcasing first your dinner and then the subsequent bowel movement.

    Offer up detailed descriptions and make up some weights to give it scientific credibility. Eat a lot of corn.

  10. There you have it, my top 10 tips on how to be the most annoying person on twitter this side of Larry King (yes he's really on there *shudder*).

    I hope you all think of me as you have restraining orders brought against you, random visits from some gun toting guy named Larry and special deliveries from the Monkey Mafia.

Next week I'll cover how to be Unsucessful at blogging. The first tip, mention feces way more than necessary in a parody post.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

That's one Soapy Giveaway

Uh oh, I said the magic words.

Soon the hordes from that one blog whose name shant be mentioned upon pain of Avada Kedavra shall be unleashed upon us all.

But wait, I should be safe. It isn't I who is hosting the giveaway. It's my good friend Linda from Silly Little Mischief.

And I'm sharing this good news with you all because she's actually giving away three of my heart soaps to the lucky winner (and I'll throw in an extra random organ because I have a lot of trial runs kicking around gathering dust).
So if you had an interest in my soaps but didn't want to have to go to all the work of paying for them head on over to her giveaway.

It's amazing, I've already sold 7 soaps so far and we haven't been open quite a week yet. What was I thinking getting into painting, body cleansing is where the real money is.

Once more just to tempt the blog gods - Giveaway.

*Lightning crash*

Ep, I'm outta here.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Sudsy Biology

*Reaches behind*

*Pulls out 3 foot long trumpet*

*Takes a breath*

*Bangs trumpet on ground*

Lords, Ladies and Lordly Ladies! I have some exciting, magnanimous rambuctilious news with which to share with all of you people type organisms.

Sorry, where was I again? Oh right, by proclamation of the Duchess of this Blog you are all invited to the Grand Opening of one Sudsy Biology the rockingest, sudsiest nerd fest this side of Comicon.

And just what will you find at this Sudsy Biology? Why every kinds of anatomical soap imaginable.

We've got hearts:
We've got lungs:

We've got intestines:
And for some reason we all have uteri:
Best of all, every one of these little guys comes in its own specially made "Human Organs" cooler:
I've already got 7 different organs listed and a ton more to slowly get up over the week including some more sciencey type things.

Go on over and check out the different fragrance options. Though, we're still trying to perfect the snozeberry.

There ya go, opening of Sudsy Biology. That's about it.

Oh wait, the King still wants Robin Hood dead. Yada yada yada, you know the drill. Now lets all get back to dying of the plague.