The 700 Club

Blogspot says this is my 700th post. Lots of yappity.

We got home right before 4 and ran right back out to get groceries. The renovating company is supposed to come back to the house today to tidy up the mess they caused when the water heater died. We did all our laundry last night just in case the machines are out of commission until they finish.

I am beat up from the drive, and I wonder if the Sunday morning run was a bad idea. We wolfed down a big supper, capped off by a red velvet cake Your Sis grabbed as we left the store. I mean, we didn't eat the whole thing. We're not total savages.

She's again in the sick bed, and her coughing sounds horrible.

Picture of the Day
I did not make this.

I Seek Advice.

The student and her mom were brought into an afterschool meeting with the teacher and an administrator. The latter took the lead in the meeting and unveiled everything to the mom and student. The student claimed it was a joke by the paper author. She was told she would have to start a new research paper on a totally different topic than what was approved earlier this semester. As she agreed to do so, she proclaimed it was totally unfair. I'm not sure why she's getting a second chance to turn in a paper for credit.

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Today's dilemma: I got a debt-collection note for my ex-wife. They found my address in hopes to find her. We've both here taken calls asking for her, and we've assured them she never lived here. Your Sis got rather salty, I understand. The ex owes $900 for an HSBC/Household credit card balance. I just Googled HSBC, and it looks like a card for people with horrible credit. Which I imagine she is. Her previous schmos took out cards in her name and maxed them out, so this might be the only card she can get. And now she owes almost a thousand on it.

Confession: I'm enjoying this more than I should. A few months after our divorce, she called to aska bout a huge balance on her credit report. She thought it might have been from a card I used during our marriage. I knew it wasn't; the balance was too much, and the card number was all wrong. I verified it wasn't a card I/we had ever used. As noted, she did have guys prior to me that fucked with her mail and money for their drug habits. And I -- the one guy who didn't abuse her -- was the one she ultimately left. So, yes, I'm enjoying this.

Question: Do I email her and tell her the debt hounds are after her? She did email me last year to let me know about Jared. She didn't have to. But is it really a kindness to reveal the efforts of debt collectors? They followed the bread crumbs to me becuase she's apparently ducking her obligation. Is it a kindness to sit on the news? I'm all conflicted.

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Seriously, call Your Sis to find out what we're doing this weekend. I still don't know if we're leaving town.

+ + +

I can now run two miles at a full gallop. I was exhausted, but I finished the mostly uphill run in just under 19 minutes.

Picture of the Day
This is a superior pet.

A Big Big Mistake

This actually happened Monday:

A student took her jump drive to her English teacher (just a door down from Your Sis). She was supposed to turn in her research paper rough draft last week. She said she couldn't get it to print. She handed the jump drive to the teacher and asked if he would accept the paper like this and if he would print it from the drive. After school, he plugged in the drive and found the paper file.

The first page, in giant bold letters read this: [Name of Girl] Is Sleeping With Me So I'll Write Her Paper. The paper was a loose collection of sources and facts with instructions for her to clean them up before printing and handing it into her teacher. The last instruction was a clear reminder to delete the author's note about the sex. She apparently never opened the file, didn't try to print it, and gave it to the teacher straight away.

Foops.

The paper writer is a dropout from two years ago. The student is the daughter of a former school employee. There just happened to be a teacher meeting scheduled for Tuesday on paper plagiarism, and it was discussed. My understanding is that the parent and student will be told of the paper at the same time at an afterschool meeting.

It snowed ALL DAY Tuesday. Blowing, blinding blizzards of white soap flakes.

And now, ten Star Wars characters with expanded histories outside the films.

Your Sis is worried about this weekend. She's afraid her cold my waylay her into staying here. You should call and guilt her into making the trip.

Picture of the Day
There's having an idea for a costume and having an idea BE your costume.

Suddenly Snow

And just like that, our 70-degree days are a hazy memory, like a Tennessee Williams nostalgic monologue about mint juleps and weeping willows. Your Sister's school had none of this blizzard when I left town, but it was a steady, icy downpour the rest of the way into work, and now I can't see across the street from my tony office window. When the wind throws the gunk against our building, it appears to be snowing up. Upward? I'll say "up."

Your Sis is back in the sick bed, but she ought to be OK for the weekend.

I watched the game last night on and off, and Ellington has a fantastic shooting form. He launches the ball at the absolute height of the jump.

There's an anthology convention article here.

Picture of the Day
It's almost in no way kinda like this at all.

Utter Debauchery

A last-minute teacher get-together happened Friday. Mexican food was gobbled. Your Sis called it a night early while I drove a house of teachers and hung out until 2 a.m. Much lemonade and popcorn was devoured.

On Saturday, the school held the first of what I hope will be a regular series of fundraising dodgeball games. It was frenetic joy. So many teams of six players each signed up that brackets were constructed to handle them all. I only saw an hour of it before driving to Asheville to watch the season opener of roller derby. Unlike the version from the '70s heyday, this seemed legit. The Blue Ridge Rollergirls -- and attention must be paid to Your Sister's suggestion of the Black-and-Blue Ridge Rollergirls -- fought the Savannah Derby Devils. A track was taped to the concrete where the ice rink usually sits, and the women rolled counter clockwise.

In roller derby, the team's jammer tries to make laps by successfully navigating the field of jostling defenders in front of her. The more complete laps, the more points. The Asheville jammer is a dynamo named Jane Gretzky who was operating on a whole 'nother level. She was LeBron. She was Kobe. She was Ric Flair. We were gobsmacked. She was much smaller than the same team's Rigor Morticia (announced as "standing at six feet under"), and she could sneak through the packs. There were three of us watching together, all former ECU folks, and we had a ball. A quick appetizer at Barley's ended the night.

On Sunday, I was a little beat up from stadium seating and the previous afternoon's first mowing of the year. I put my lawnmower back together, and it cranked up the first time to my surprise. Grass was cut with malice and cruelty. On Sunday, to counter what was becoming a weekend of horrible diet and geeky sloth, I decided to run a full 5k course. It was earlier in the day than I usually run, and I met wind and sun. It hurt. I measured the course this morning on my commute, and it was almost 4 full miles. Today, I am sore in every place.

There's a local farm co-op that's offering produce to folks who buy a plot of farmland. The plants are harvested and delivered to town locations for weekly pick-up. We're considering it. I'll still work my garden, of course. Your Sis wants to put in potatoes very soon.

I've heard nothing so far about this past weekend's comic show and our anthology book.

Picture of the Day
Akimbo, the website and blog for International Women’s Health Coalition had this note on Friday:

One of IWHC’s Brazilian partners sent us this picture - apparently they’re selling like hot cakes in France as a means of protesting the Pope’s recent declarations against the effectiveness of condoms.

Those are large packages. I assume they are female condoms. Unless French men also have large packages.

Cooking with Villainy 5

Doom at times hankers for comfort food, sustenance which soothes Doom's troubled brow (upon which genius rests) and transports Doom to the glorious chamber of sleep. It is at these times Doom summons the Comfort Cookbook, the culinary grimoire within which one finds the greatest collection of recipes dating back to the ur-chefs of the first human tribes whose evolution has resulted in Doom, the apex of human development. Of course. OF COURSE.

This night, Doom seeks the succor of sweet potatoes but wishes to be unencumbered by the fattiness of butter and the heft of brown sugar, the common complements of the sweet potato. It is here in the Comfort Cookbook that Doom unveils the one answer that Doom requires: Zesty Italian Sweet Potatoes and Chicken.

As ever, Doom allows for some degree of customization of the recipe. Doom is kind and generous. This cannot be questioned. You may replace chicken with some other similar protein vehicle, if you must. And in this, you should again be grateful to the largess of Doom. But in all other matters of this process, do not dare deviate.

Doom commands you to activate your oven to 375 degrees.

Doom commands you to place your protein vehicle in an ungreased pan.

Doom commands you to prepare 1/3 cup or mayonnaise or similarly textured salad dressing. Doom prefers Ranch; you would do well to emulate him in all ways. To this, add 1/3 cup of Zesty Italian dressing and a tablespoon each of rosemary, basil, and oregano. Mix them together thoroughly.

Doom commands you to brush the protein vehicle with this mixture and place into the ready oven for 30 minutes. In the interim, prepare two medium-sized sweet potatoes by peeling and slicing them into 1-inch pieces. While you await for the initial 30 minutes to end, Doom invites you to contemplate your role in Doom's kingdom and the protection of his subjects from the arrogance of the Accursed Richards. He seeks you harm, my subjects, and Doom will not allow it. Doom is ever vigilant, and his unsleeping army of Doombots protects you as you go about your daily duties, all for the betterment of Latveria and your rightful ruler.

Doom commands you to turn the chicken after 30 minutes, add the potatoes, and pour the remaining dressing mixture upon the dish. Do not waste the precious compound. It is delectable, and Doom will not see a drop ignored.

Doom commands you to bake again for another 30 minutes. You may use this time to put quill to parchment and compose a ballad to Doom. Doom appreciates your outpouring of sincere affection for your king. Also, epic poems describing the inevitable downfall of the Accursed Richards are welcome and will entertain Doom in the quiet hours of the night.

Doom commands you to remove the dish upon the end of the second half hour and consume.

Doom commands you to crave and devour.

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In a news story that's a blockbuster to a certain contingent, a virtually finished work print of next month's Wolverine movie is available online in pirate torrent sites. It's happened before. The Ang Lee Hulk movie was leaked, but that was a print from earlier in the production process. This Wolverine print is practically the theatrical release, and the FBI has been contact to track down the person who swiped it and put it online. Twentieth Century Fox is allegedly concerned about box-office results, as the online pirating community is often seen as closely connected to the very fanboys the film wants to lure into theatres.

Personally, I don't think it will affect the take that much as I'm confident the casual female audience will show up in droves. Virtually every woman I've talked to who was dragged to see the X-Men films by her boyfriend went ga-ga over Hugh Jackman with the hair and jacket and muscles. They'll make up for any indignant or sated online viewers who stay away from the cinema. Your Sister, for instance, asked if we were going as soon as the first commercial ended. In fact, she asked again last night when the commercial aired during a House rerun.

I won't watch the film online, but now I have to avoid certain sites or risk having the movie spoiled.

Picture of the Day
This should be wallpaper size.

Good Taste

Lost just won a Peabody Award, the electronic media equivalent of the Pulitzer. Here's what the website says:

Lost (ABC)
ABC Studios
Breezily mixing metaphysics, quantum physics, romance and cliffhanger action, the genre-bending series about a group of air-crash survivors on a mysterious island has rewritten the rules of television fiction.

Also winning were NPR, YouTube, NBC's coverage of the Olympics, and Turner Classic Movies.

I ran once more, stopping at two miles but going at a full gallop. I then hung up all the comic art in the new frames. And then made dinner. And shod a horse and build a damn and carved Elvira out of butter. Just another night.

Culinary Pictures of the Day
A larger version is here on her blog. I found this via Slog, the Seattle Weekly mass blog, and it has a great idea: a comic anthology of recipes. Short recipes have appeared in indy comics within the past ten years, notable Scary Godmother and Scott Pilgrim. I'd love to do one of these.

If I Had a Hammer. And a Screwdriver. And Some Spackle.

I bought new frames for the hallway comic pages. That required removal of the original screws and anchors and spackling over the holes. Also, I had to measure for new screws and anchors and hammer and screw those in place. The new frames are nice, and maybe tonight I'll be able to get the artwork back on the walls.

Your Sister was making something with cabbage, and I asked to eat the leftover head half. This is bumpkin coleslaw. I grew up loving the taste of lightly salted raw cabbage. I also did this for lettuce. My Parents had to buy extra heads of each. Your Sis was totally dumbfounded. She never saw someone do this before. She didn't know even how to approach cutting cabbage for snack-sized portions. I gobbled it all with spackle dried to my fingers, and, boy howdy, if that ain't redneck glory.

I'm back to copying ad photos for my daily drawing exercise. I need to call my theatre contact soon to set up the audition and rehearsal schedule.

Picture of the Day
Dr. Manhattan and Janey before the accident. The movie's been perceived as a flop, but I predict gigantic sales of the DVDs. A DVD of the pirate story and the filmed archived footage of the Under The Hood autobiography has been on sale for two weeks, but I'll wait for the monster DVD set to come out this summer.

Officially Official

Wind makes running suck out loud. I was beat up by the time I put on the brakes at stately Debacle Manor. As I drove to work today, I clicked the odometer to measure out my usual course. It's actually longer than 3 miles, meaning I'm surpassing the 5k length when I run it.

As I hung the new comic page on the wall, I got fed up with the flimsy frames we bought. I'm getting new ones. I have decreed. So mote it be.

I had a small epiphany about the play. The script calls for almost all the props to be carried in by one character. She hauls in shopping bags filled with presents and paper plates and napkins and party implements. But we're doing this as reading theatre, and one hand will be busy holding her script. Fortunately, all the props are used at the lone table. If we get a floor-length tablecloth, we can preset the props behind the table. When the actress sets down her now-empty bags behind the table, she can set them next to the props. When anyone reaches for the props, it will look like the props are coming from the bags.

I picked up the remastered version of Pearl Jam's Ten, their debut CD from the very early '90s. I haven't listened to it in years and years. It holds up. The lyrics are overwrought in places, but the new mixes clean up the instruments right nice. "Jeremy" remains THE song from the CD, and despite radio stations playing it into the dirt, it retains all its integrity. It's an unabashed rock song, and it's a better social commentary than Aerosmith's "Janie's Got a Gun."

Picture of the Day
I was emailed pictures of the anthology. It meets daylight this week at an Athens convention. I'm in here somewhere. They didn't tell me there was a lumberjack motif, and I hope I'm not the only artist who didn't draw Paul Bunyan in his comic.

Another Page Done

Here's how old we are: We watched a documentary on crossword puzzles on Friday night. It was good and involving and fun and well-made, but still ... it's a film on crossword puzzles. It's called Wordplay.

The rain kept us inside virtually all weekend. I accidentally discovered a new drawing style Saturday morning just by doodling next to the computer. I wish I had discovered this about ten years earlier. It's quicker and cleaner than, say, the work below, and it just fell out of my pencil.

We hosted a small dinner party and watched Young Frankenstein. It's never not funny. The jokes are less funny than the facial reactions to the jokes.

Throughout the weekend, I made lists for the play I'm to direct. I noted all the entrances and exits, props, and sound effects. I'm seeing some issues with all the props and the handheld scripts. But I don't think we should try to memorize this. We'll adjust the props instead. I tried my director sales-pitch on Your Sis, and she seemed to get the conceit of a sitcom episode.

Comic Page of the Day
Here's the completed noir story starring Your Sister. I scanned it into Illustrator, added the text, printed out only the text and effects, cut them out, and pasted them to the original art board. It's now hanging in our hallway.


Cultural Observation of the Day
The angle against gay marriage has shifted away from the quotation of Biblical verses against homosexuality and toward those that promote maternity. NPR had a story last week about the Quiverfull movement wherein families have as many children as the mom can produce. The rationale is that the brown people are out-breeding the faithful.

The nationally syndicated evangelical radio show I hear during my commute is also claiming now that children are the divine obligation of spouses. If a couple, like us, decide against children, then we are allegedly embracing the consumer culture instead of the culture of life. We are decadent. So there, we have been denounced, which is in no way like the proclamations of the zealot Islamic countries that are the bane of such Christian broadcasts. At all.

Anyway, just keep your ear to the ground in classroom discussions. I don't see this gaining much traction in the mainstream audiences because it dumps all childless marriages in the same stewpot, regardless of the reasons why no kids are created.

My Hand is a Lobster

While making alfredo, I lost my brains, stuck my hand in the pasta pot, and steamed it red. Bright red. The worst part was the pain grew in intensity with each pulse. It didn't blister, so it wasn't so bad. I smeared it with moisturizer (after mentally rejecting butter and water and ice). When the moisturizer worse off, my hands were kissably smooth but tender. The air tickled. I smeared on aloe vera and let the hand air dry for about 90 minutes.

This morning, oddly, my steamed hand is lighter than the other; I expected it to be darker and redder. The pain is gone, but it's still surprisingly sensitive. I could put it in and out of my jeans pocket, and that's the roughest treatment it should get all day. I think I'm OK.

After dating and eventually suckering a teacher into marrying me, I'm more attuned to the homeschool arguments. While reading my hometown newspaper site, I noticed this week's homeschooling activities at the county libraries:

Wednesday
11 a.m. Boiling Springs Library, home-schoolers program. For home-schoolers in first through sixth grades. Call 864-578-3665.

1 p.m. Inman Library, Home-school Teens: Computer Autopsy and Diskette Notebook program. We'll make notebooks from old diskettes. Refreshments provided. Registration required. For ages 12-18 (grades seven-12) only. Call 864-472-8363.

THURSDAY
4 p.m. Westside Library. Meet Ingrid Norris and her canine friend from the Spartanburg Humane Society. Call 574-6815.

5 p.m. Woodruff Library. Join us for the movie screening of "Twilight," rated PG-13. Those younger than 18 should pick up permission slips before the show. Signed letters of permission from parents are also acceptable. Call 864-476-8770.

Crafts, a shelter dog, and Twilight. That's homeschooling. Throw your mind back to 10th grade. If you were assigned to make a notebook out of old disks, it would be considered busywork. That's scrapbooking. No wonder the local home students have to go to Bible colleges. They can't get in anywhere else.

Picture of the Day
A handy dandy guide to the plot of every House episode. Clicky-clicky to embiggen. It's over 1 MB, but it's worth the download.

Sign Me Up

Read the script at lunch yesterday. It's a sitcom episode, a mix of Mama's Family with Golden Girls. I'm sure that's not intentional, but that's what we have. The majority of the piece takes place with all four characters sitting around a table. There are perhaps seven entrances and exits. As long as I can approach it as a sitcom -- a good one, with tight delivery -- then it's going to be as good as something this slim can be.

A 60-year-old is visited by her two daughters for her birthday. One's a floozy, the other's a square. The square brings her boyfriend. Jokes and plans are made. Everyone leaves the house. That's it. Anyone could direct this. Brooke could direct this. How can I turn it down?

Kathy and I jogged and walked at the college. There's a growing trend in run training that stresses a timed mix of effort. Walk for 90 seconds, jog for 60 seconds, all for 20 minutes. It's to build up the cardio. I worked out a bit at home beforehand. Because Your Sis had afterschool labs, and this rendezvous was so late, we were eating supper around 9. We caught maybe five minutes of the presidential conference.

Picture of the Day
The drawing is done, and I'm emailing it to her today. Fixing the hair made a big difference.

Almost Beginnings.

I picked up the script after work, but I won't read it until today at lunch. It is thin. The script is written in a different format than almost every script I've seen. I suspect the writer used film script software to make it. I haven't agreed to do this yet, but I catch myself planning floor diagrams and establishing directorial philosophy. Two things will keep me from directing this: a horrible script and a lack of actors. No, I don't see myself doing this as a one-man show. The writer will allegedly be there to see the show's one performance, and I wonder if we'll have to make any changes to her script to perform it in a church.

I'm supposed to walk with Kathy tonight as she begins her couch-to-race regimen. She wants to run the annual spring 5k. I ran yesterday, and the mixture of a faster pace and warmer air left me weak and breathless after the three miles. I hope the pain and sweat means I'm whittling the pudge away. I've cut back on the frapps and midday snackage. I did have a chesseburger Happy Meal yesterday, but I think its small size says I'm prudent. I just might start turning the garden soil this weekend, depending on how much it rains. That, if nothing else, will slice away the fat.

I indeed worked on the drawing of Your Sister and showed her what I had done by last night. She seemed happy with it, but I'll put money she's unhappy to see what she thinks are her defects. I know she's insecure, and the presence of hundreds of teenagers could wither anyone's defenses. But I see the drawing, and it's unmistakably my hot wife, and so I'm content with it.

Picture of the Day
The poster for the upcoming Maurice Sendak adaptation. This movie's been on the shelf for over a year now.

An Offer

I got a call Friday afternoon from my murder-play director. He was also the head of the script committee. He offered me the chance to direct a one-act play for one performance in late May. "Offered" may be too strong a word. "Asked with hesitance and a touch of desperation" may be better. It's apparently a tradition for the theatre's new play program. They mount a full production of a three-act play for two weekends, and they offer a reader's theatre production of a new one-act at a member's luncheon.

I told him I was curious and that I'd like to read the script before I agree, and he said that was fair. I'll pick up the script Monday night. It's supposedly less than 40 pages. Given that and the one performance and the reading format, it's too good an offer to turn down. Unless the script is crap. But I'm more worried about the actors. Can we get four actors for a one-act to run at lunchtime? The sex farce died when they couldn't cast six people.

Your Sister asked me to draw her for her website image, and I cobbled it together from three photos. I also worked on the noir comic. I bought new ink because I was afraid my old ink was too old. maybe clumpy and gooey. But the new ink I bought (Higgins) is trash. It's thin and watery. I fished out the old ink (Windsor Newton) from the trash, and it worked fine.

Picture of the Day
I need to work on her hair.

Running on Fume-accinos.

Despite what used to be a robust metabolism, I developed a pudge, and I blame my addiction to frappuccinos. Oddly though, they help one run for days and days. I've run hard this week, going farther and with longer strides to get myself back in shape. I ran last night for just at 3 miles and ran earlier this week for a full 5k. I can already see a difference. Also, I'm trying to give up my lunchtime Sprites. I knew they swelled my gut, but their siren song was too alluring. [shakes fist at Sprite, swears vengeance]

Of course someone brought a box of fresh doughnuts to the office today. And I must eat them. It's the agreement doughnuts and I struck at the Treaty of Delicious after the Revolutionary War.

I bought new pens to try out. They're a step up from my bargain-basement ink pens, and I really need to find the high-end stuff. I intend to use a brush to ink this noir comic because the blacks must be deep and opaque. Pen ink is thin and can fade easily. But I'm nervous about starting the inking. I want this art to be better than that of the six-pager. I want to be proud of this, even if it is a ten-panel joke.

Also, I'll draw Your Sister's headshot for her school webpage this weekend.

Picture of the Day
One of Seattle's two dailies closed this week, and the obituary editor added it to their last listing.


No one asked me what can be done to save papers, but two things are vital:
1) Buy them cheap from the morons who bought them and ran them into the ground. Most papers are drying because their syndicate owners didn't know how to run papers, and tried to make every paper nationally relevant. Papers were trying to compete with USAToday and the Wall Street Journal and New York Times. They burned out. Also, people stopped buying the papers when they reduced their local copy to reach a national audience.

2) Papers should perceive themselves less as newspaper companies and more as new agencies that have a printer. With online options, papers can produce audio and video along side text and graphics. They can be TV channels, radio channels, and newspapers every day. They have to diversify.

Scattered

I opened the workshed for the first time this year and started the lawnmower maintenance. Dad and I made a deal that he'd by us a new one for this year, but, well, you know. I can make this one last another year if need be. I opened the oil pan so it can drain for a few days. I also hammered down the fence stakes around the garden. We indeed have rabbits, and I saw one just as I entered the back yard. I'll change one end to make it removable; that will let us drive a tiller in and out of there.

Your Sister rejected all of my suggested avatars for her teacher webpage. She even asked for the third, drawn picture. Now she wants a drawing of her. I don't think she knows she's starring my current comic project.




The prez predicted his NCAA March madness brackets and named UNC as the overall winner. As did I on Monday. Just sayin'.

Moving Picture of the Day
Did you know they made a musical about Your Aunt Susan? Amazing.

Pulp Nonfiction

A catch-up phone call with mom revealed that she did not like target practice with Her Brother's .38-calibre gun. She thinks she'll sleep better with a gun in the house, and since Louis isn't using his anymore, she claimed dibs. Unfortunately, the kick of the gun was too much for her, and she now wants to downgrade to a .22. She also wants to forgo the license, which is a bad idea. It means two things:
1) She won't be able to buy the gun from a legal source. I assume she's going to buy a gun from a friend of a friend.
2) She can get charged if she's discovered. She doesn't intend to carry it in her purse, but if she drives with it and is pulled over, she's in trouble.

My Wife wants a bike, and My Mom's packing heat illegally. What kind of drive-in-movie reality did I wake up in?

I ran 5k yesterday along the heartbreak hill route. Because our pub moved to the foot of that hill, I get to run by the smokers twice as they wait for a table. Running past an Irish pub on St. Patrick's Day -- again, twice -- is a damn depressing thing. I wanted to run farther, but the hill tightened up my legs, and I walked for part of it. But that was after I finished 5k. I got an email this morning from someone who wanted to start training for a 5k, and I'll be her running buddy. We ran together in a 5k last year on the morning Dad took ill.

Picture of the Day
After taking last week off, Lost returns tonight!

Two Offers

When we staggered home Sunday night, I found a phone message from the actor who played the judge in the Christmas show. He asked me to call back, and I did on Monday. He was looking to cast a role at a play for the local learning center but had cast it after he first called me.

And then today, I found a Facebook message from the director of the annual debut play presentation. The theatre holds a contest to debut a play every year, and this one will apparently deal with young Shakespeare. I'm curious, but the show after that is Rainmaker, and I was asked to audition for that last year. I don't think I can do both. Also, I hope Your Sis can try for Rainmaker too. We could be the leads.

My participation will depend on my confidence that the Christmas show disaster won't be repeated. Right now, as I type this, I only feel dread nihilism. But I'm leaning toward Rainmaker of the two. I know the show (I advocated it in the script committee), and it's a great vehicle for the lead actors. But I may be too old for the role. That's a new reality for me.

For St. Patrick's Day, we opened some Guiness, and it was crap. I think the magic draught widgets in the bottles were broken. Your Sis didn't know about them. When I finished my beer and rattled it inside my bottle, the look on her face that suggested she imagined a mouse skull inside it.

The comic is sketched out, and I'll define the art before I ink.

Are you all exam-ified?

Picture of the Day
Found online.

I Married a Motorcycle Mama

I attended a post-natal baby shower for Kathy and Travis Friday night.They had pizza and beer, and it was good to catch up. They played a very odd game called Name That Poo. The attendees split into two teams. We were given diapers containing melted candy bars, and we had to identify them by smell (I mean, no one wanted to taste them). That was odd. Odder was offering us brownies after. Yikes. We also played baby Pictionary, and I was voted to draw for the men's team. As soon as I walked into the room, I was pulled aside by four people who each asked me about Watchmen. I told them it was huge, it was fun, and it's not Iron Man. I also offered them my trade collection to read.

I killed time shopping before the shower and found framed canvas for almost 50% off. I bought two large canvases, and now they stare at me with their impatient canvas eyes.

We hit Asheville on Saturday to get the taxes taken care of, and we treated Your Mom to lunch. I bought some art pens the pros are raving about, and I showed Your Sis the new Barnes & Noble store at the mall. It's massively massive.

We then found a motorcycle store, and Your Sis went gaga. We found a nice riding jacket she might get for her birthday, and she confirmed that the bike she learned on is the right model for her. Everything else was either too tall or made her sit too far forward. The Honda Rebel is similar to the mid-century Army bikes, and that only makes them cooler (MASHcycle!). Sh's asking me if I want to learn too, and I fear I'll intrude on her new hobby. Also, I can't ride that small a bike, and we don't need to buy two cycles.

We walked to a neighbor house for Irish supper on Sunday. Your Sis made Irish coffee, and we all drank Irish beer. Then the two of us staggered home. A local theatre is presenting Rocky Horror this summer, and I'm trying to talk Your Sis into watching the DVD before she sees the play. I think she becomes more reluctant to see it with each new detail I provide.

The drawing of the new comic story has begun. Did I mention it stars Your Sister?

Picture of the Day
This is her on the Best Bike.

Wow.

Ignore anything I might say and just watch this. This is incredible stuff.



Really Cool, New Sixth-Sense Technology