This idea really started when my ex-wife and dear friend, Alice, purchased these stuffed toys for some friends’ kids. She thought they were so cute that she and her mother just had to write a story in accompaniment. The idea further developed into putting together a little book, with pictures to go along with it. Somehow, I was volunteered to illustrate the story. That’s just how it works sometimes.
I’m in a bit of a sticky wicket. I can’t sleep, I’m supposed to be getting up at six for a test, and I just don’t see it happening. Since I haven’t heard back from Marion County yet as to whether or not I’ll be working in their corrections facility (and if I get that job, I’ll be working as a reserve deputy sheriff as well), I thought it would be…
I remembered just recently that NaNoWriMo was coming up sometime soon, and for a moment I thought I’d missed the boat. I suppose I would have been better off if I had. I promised myself last year (after not finding out about it until it had already started) that this year I was going to participate. Now I wish I hadn’t made that promise. But I did, so I have to…
“If he doesn’t practice with a toy, how is he ever going to kill anybody?” So read the coolest advertisement poster I’ve seen in a while. It’s got a kid with two guns in hand, John woo style, with his back up against a tree and a devastatingly cold-killer look in his eyes. The poster is so cool, in fact, that it defeats its own purpose. See, it’s supposed to be…
I realized that though I was right on the date, my countdown is off. The way I’ve got it, day 1 is the actual wedding, and most countdowns end with 0. Tough, that’s what I say. Since I’ve numbered my pictures 1 – 12, I’m not about to change it so that there’s a picture 0. For my purposes, you’ll just have to deal. And so on that note, here’s the…
Yes, that’s right. Aimee Mann (damn you Sundry, damn you to Hell). Haven’t there been enough chick songs featured lately? I mean, there is a difference, since Mann is actually really good, and Shakira and Celine are really just fluff, but come on, self! Get with the program! Bring back the Zombie, G’n’R, and Iron Maiden! But no, I’m stuck on these girlie songs. It’s a phase, self. That’s all, a…
You’d might think that I’ve learned my lesson to stay the hell out of Best Buy, but if you were to think that, you’d be an idiot. I don’t know what it is, but everytime I go in there, I end up spending way more than I intended. All self0-control goes right out the window. It’s like putting a kid in a candy store… except every piece of candy costs $10…