Ahoy!Puss in Boots isn't really a pirate, but he smells as if he might be.
Flotsam & jetsamartmart briar canine tomfoolery Clarion West collaborations color collection comics are best in life cryptids cryptofauna disgustimus feline shenanigans flowers grave tactical errors guest art hanzo holiday mayhem idiocracy is nigh if i die the price goes up if i was rich we would call it eccentric but instead I am just bizarre intermischief Keffy landsharks liquid acrylic love affair looong fiiictiiiooon markers marsvin monsterpede mushy my boss is awesome my velvet goldmine NaNoWriMo not a parking lot yet pissing off the locals pit bull tuesday plunderZOO queer happenings self-publishing shrt fctn species love the crew trolling uphill both ways wicked glee wildlife rescue write-a-thon
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
Monday, August 18, 2014
One night last week, we played Ingress for about two hours while we walked the dogs, then we went climbing for another hour at Vital, and when we finished at 1:30 a.m., i said, “Let’s drive down Chuckanut and hike to the beach.” Seamus never says no to me because he either has a similar sense of adventure or just a deathwish, so that’s what we did.
These photos are crap, but when you consider that my camera is five(?!) years old, digital, and cost less than $300, they gain some sort of pitiful charm.
This is where we pretend that we can stand each other. It’s the first step in our cunning plan to fake getting married so we can acquire gifts off of our registry, then never ever do the marriage part, but take the toaster and run.
The moon looks like a sun because of the way my camera deals with night photography. Next time, i’ll bring moonblock and make sure to cover all my skin, because when we left the beach i was two shades paler than when i got there.
Saturday, August 16, 2014
Yeah, more animal rescue. Does this happen to other people? Am i knocking seagulls out of the air with a baseball bat to get Internet attention? Look, i’m wondering the same thing as you. Maybe i’m playing birdsketball in my sleep or something.
This time, i was out playing Ingress with Briar, setting up this kick-ass geometric festival of AP (shut up), and i blah blah videogame crap needed to walk north on Elm. There we found two seagulls, one of whom was visibly lame, standing in the street.
Even though Briar is good at herding small furry tame things in my living room, she wasn’t really going to be useful in this situation, so I called Seamus and ran my plan past him, which was basically: “Drive over here so i can put Briar in the car and catch this seagull before she gets destroyed playing real-time Frogger. Oh, also bring Hanzo so when i make a satirical infographic it can have the word two several times.” (That last part was a joke. In case you thought i was seriously that douchey.)
They were juvenile seagulls, so not babies, but still not confident adults. After i caught the first one, the second one walked right out into oncoming traffic and waited to die. Three times. Two cars actually slammed on their brakes to avoid smushing it. Clearly, he dun’t know how to survive alone, so…
I handed Seamus the injured bird and caught the suicidal one, who was pretty sure we’d just killed and eaten his sister.
He pecked the shit out of my arm (which was the saddest, weakest attack ever–i’ve had worse sunburns) as i walked back toward Seamus. In case you didn’t know, Seamus is really smart. When i got close, he turned away and backed toward me like a freak. I was like “Why are you showing me your armpit?!” and he explained, “So they know each other aren’t dead.” It totally worked. The second the brother realized his sister wasn’t inside our intestines, he quieted down.
Then they decided to peck me together. Teamwork.
We wrapped them into the same coat and brought them back to hang out in a cardboard box in our bathroom, because we hadn’t been to bed yet. When we woke up, we took them to the wildlife rescue.
You can see their new home in the back of the photo below, just to the right of my head. JUST KIDDING. They went to live with a flock of other seagulls and record hit eighties songs and have bad hair.
Anyway, the moral of this story is, if i hadn’t needed a portal key from further up the road, i never would have seen the birds, and they both would probably be pavement putty by now. So Ingress saves animals! It’s a fact.
Friday, August 15, 2014
So i like to do this thing where i draw what i think people are like based on their screen names. (One of the many reasons i’m not interested in Facebook or Google’s fascist insistence that we all use our real names online. If you’re reading this, Facebook or Google, lick my butt.)
At the B.S. of Comics today, i scribbled some of the local Ingress players. I’ve actually met a few of them, but i used my mental impressions, not my eyeball impressions, so there’s zero resemblance. (Especially the animals. I refuse to believe anyone can blow up that many of my portals with paws or feathers.)
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Last week, Briar and I went on a walk with our friends Teeth & Steve and their dog Motley. Our plan was to play Ingress as we went, taking portals with our phones while our dogs took them with urine assertions, but we reached Pickett Bridge and one of the most surreal things of my entire life happened.
I glanced off to my left and saw what looked like a giant snake sticking out of the bushes.
Now, the park west of Pickett Bridge contains a salmon hatchery, and people are allowed to catch the fish and drop them into something that functions sorta like an ichthyological pneumatic tube, which then dumps the fishies into the holding pond for hatchery staff to deal with. But sometimes the people fishing are dickbags and leave the dead fish out on the sidewalk or the benches. So when i saw this enormous scaley thing, I was like, That must be a salmon. Even though it’s too early for salmon season. Because it can’t be the other thing that it looks like.
So i casually asked, “Hey, what is that?”
Teeth and Steve confirmed that it was, indeed, a massive boa constrictor. This dude’s belly was about five inches in diameter. I suspect he weighed thirty-five or forty pounds at least. He probably could have taken Briar one-on-one, if it was warm out and he got the drop on her.
Teeth and i held the dogs while Steve, who is a huge herp-nerd, gently extracted the snake from the bushes. It’s been a looong time since i was a kid and my parents let me have the guest room to store all my reptiles (coolest parents EVER). I would have pulled him from the bushes too fast, made him angry, and he would have bit my face with his cell-phone-sized mouth. THANK YOU TEETH AND STEVE. <3 I love having other animal nerds for friends, especially when their knowledge surpasses mine.
Not only did Steve gently coax the snake out, but he let the twisty varmint take an enormous dump all down his leg and on his shoe, all the while letting it hiss at him half-heartedly while it desperately soaked up his body heat. The poor thing was so cold it could barely move, and it had some gnarly wounds on its side–some local wildlife had been foolish enough to try and eat a five foot boa constrictor. (Please imagine, for a moment, a very confused otter.)
We called the emergency vet (which is in my phone because i’m le smart. It should be in your phone too. Seriously, if it’s not, do it RIGHT NOW. You never ever know when you will need that number). Teeth fetched the car so Steve didn’t have to carry a pissed-off snake taller than he was back to my house, but we ran into a snag.
Emergency vet: “We don’t do snakes.”
So we called 911, who paged Animal Control.
Animal Control: “We don’t do snakes.”
Luckily, AC does call the Humane Society to take care of the things they don’t. The van was about 45 minutes out, though. In the mean time, cops started showing up to get a look at the giant-ass snake on Pickett Bridge. And why wouldn’t they, when it looked like this:
They’d had a call earlier about a big snake swimming in the water nearby, which could only be our scaley little buddy. Steve patiently gave the BPD lessons about snakes, especially how very not dangerous this big boy was, because at least one of those officers was about to crap his uniform. hahaha! They were really nice, though, and it was good of them to hang out and make sure the Humane Society showed up to help us. While they were getting a free herpetology lecture, i went home and got Seamus, who drove me back with a towel nestled in a plastic tote, so Steve could stand up again.
The snake is now in the hands of the Whatcom Humane Society. He may not make it, but he’s still fighting. He was cold for a long time, his wounds are numerous, but he’s in good hands. If he survives, i’m pretty sure Steve is going to apply to be his new best buddy for all of forever–watching him cuddle that thing was like seeing an old lady with her special fluffy purse dog. <3
Also, i think i convinced the WHS driver to play Ingress.
Monday, July 28, 2014
Somehow, i am still a writer, and still alive, and still trying, but i have been missing my updates and unless i sit down and do some math right now (which i assure you i will most certainly not be doing), i won’t even know how many i missed. Two? Three? The square root of 26? Banana point parrot divided by oatmeal?!
The longer explanation: we just moved the art store (still moving, because we have to clean out the old location and organize everything in the new place); a week later, we had our grand opening (in preparation for which i worked several exta-long days); and a week after that (this upcoming Friday!) we’ll have an inaugural art show with work by employees (still have to finish my submissions). I also had two out-of-town guests, mostly-healed my finger, went on a walk with some friends and found an enormous, injured boa constrictor in the park down the street (more on that in another post), and our landlords decided to have the house appraised because of a death in the family (D:), so we had to clean up the mess that had accrued from all that not-having-any-time. On top of all of that, i have a secret commission that is secret. (I also happily admit that i have played a pile of Ingress, but i have to walk the dogs even when i’m this busy, so it’s a good way to use the time when i can’t be making art or unpacking boxes to have fun. That hasn’t really subtracted from writing time.) Somehow, i am even busier than i was when i was a student at Clarion West, but there’s no one to make me good food every day. ):<
TL;DR: Move art show snake landlord guest cleaning & Ingress is good but i am hungry.
Anyway, i said i’d blog what was happening, so what’s happening is NOTHING, and i apologize. Hopefully there will be more Monsterpede soon. I do have some photographs of irrelevant adventures to share in the next couple days, as a poor substitute, assuming i have time to post them.
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Saturday, July 12, 2014
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
(For those just joining us, Monsterpede is an anti-all-ages picture book that serves as an allegory for a writer’s journey. I intend to self-publish it for the experience, and I am bloging all my progress. Also, my hand is busted and typoa abound. Sorry!)
I think perhaps this book will change the world. I say this not from any great arrogance about its quality, but rather because the universe seems to be attacking. There must be a reason. In addition to all the other nonsense, my computer temporarily broke on Monday, when i only had this:
But finally, my computer is Frankensteined into existence once more, though i wouldn’t put your hand anywhere near the DVD drive just in case it has an Abby Normal CPU. Hurr hurr!
I need new frisket. This is blobby and drying up. (More evidence the natural order is against Monsterpede!)
My original second Write-a-thon goal was sixteen pages of comic script per week, a goal i made in advance of my splinted hand. As an unexpected replacement, a close friend came up with a hilariously bad idea for a collaborative story. It is smutty and explosively embarrassing, so you will never ever ever see it, bu it does mean i am doing at least one short chapter per week. she dosn’t mind my wealth of typos! Here is my wordcount so far: 1,453.
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
After i broke my knuckle, i sat around for half of an hour, then ate a burger, then played the (fabulous!!) Rick and Morty videogame with Seamus, but at his wise insistence, i decided i was prooobably busted enough to go to the ER. (He’s marvelous. If it wasn’t for him i probably would already have died in some super-Darwin-Awards way.)
When we got there, they put this tracking device on me. I figured it’s because they knew my time was coming to an end, which meant i was an endangered species and they needed to record my migration patterns and mating habits.
However, Seamus explained it was just so we’d know when our table was ready.
Hilariously, the 1 – 10 pain scale means NOTHING to me. I do things that reach a 6 or 7 just for fun, and this was only a 3, but all broken bones are way more serious than playing couch MMA with a friend. They declined to use the triple-axis pain graph that i offered as a replacement for their wimpy 2-D chart.
They put me in scenic Room #11, which boasts a vista of overflowing trash cans and the melodic shrieks of hyperventilating children. This was the only time that day that i really regretted my injury. (That, and the few seconds of soul-hollowing sorrow that followed the realization that i’d have to stop climbing for a few weeks.)