Thing Of The Day: Cords Rating: NOT AWESOME

Hello Cords,

This letter is addressed to all of you even though it is directed only at particular members of your alliance, namely: iPod headphones cord, iPod charger cord, venetian blinds cord and sweatpants drawstring.  

I am tiring of your shenanigans.  Just yesterday, I went looking for you, iPod headphones cord, because I had the urge to discreetly listen to music.  When I found you, you were lasciviously wrapped around iPod charger cord even though I had put you away neatly coiled around yourself.   I apologize if I did not make it clear that I expected you to stay that way.  I guess I didn't realize that you were retarded and completely unable to pick up on subtleties.  Allow me to spell it out for you: K-E-E-P  Y-O-U-R  C-O-I-L-S  T-O  Y-O-U-R-S-E-L-F.  

I know that you are wildly attracted to iPod charger cord, but Christ man, try to respect my feelings a little.   Contorting yourselves into every position in the Kama Sutra simultaneously makes it really hard to separate you when I need to use one of you.  It is also uncomfortable for the other things on my desk.  

Venetian blinds cord, your narcissism is alarming.  Your almost pathological autoeroticism is beginning to impact your work performance.  I called upon you today to open the blinds only to find that you were irreversibly tangled up in an orgy for one.  I spent the better part of the morning trying to straighten you out, but despite my best efforts, you are still all kinky.  I may be forced to use the scissors if I cannot get through to you.  It is really fucking sunny and I am losing my patience!

Sweatpants drawstring, just being in the privacy of the washing machine does not make it okay to rape the other clothing.  My underwear and socks do not appreciate being forced into a three-way with you.  I do not appreciate having to rescue my underwear and socks from said three-way.    And don't get all pouty and retreat into the waistband of my sweatpants - it won't change the fact that I am mad at you.  

A message to all of the cords in my household:  These four offenders have been found guilty of lewd acts that I know all of you are capable and willing to commit should the opportunity present itself (I am especially talking to you, Christmas lights).  Please take note of the repercussions inherent in these actions before you decide to act upon your impulses.  

Good day!

-Allie

British Parliament panel

A sample panel from my new comic I Come In Peace, coming out at the Vancouver Comic Con on August 23rd. Obviously I used photo reference. I'm rubbish at buildings, without any.

Cat Rackham Fan Art

I doodled this tonight after re-reading all of the talented Steve Wolfhard's amazing Cat Rackham web comics. READ THEM HERE AT CATRACKHAM.COM!!

The Molt

I did this piece for an art show for a friend's book launch here in Vancouver. A different artist was given a chapter each, and told to interpret it however they like into a piece of art. This was my contribution: "Molt Sunday Funnies". If you don't find it funny, that's NATURAL. It's text from the chapter, and I used it slightly out of context for the purposes of the piece.
Click pic to embiggen.

This is my friend Ryan Morris' book Molt:

I Need to be Famous by Thursday

I am finally coming to terms with the fact that I am not cut out to be a productive member of society.

I originally intended to become a doctor or medical researcher.  I thought that I wanted to save people, discover things and change the world.  But the more I think about it, the more I realize that I just want to sit on my couch in my underpants all day.

This is why I need you to make me famous by Thursday.  Thursday is the day that I officially graduate from college.  Back in January, I thought I would be ecstatic when this day finally came.  I now realize that graduating is a huge mistake.  I wish I could take it back, but I can't.  At this point I can't even fail.  I am starting to panic.  

It doesn't have to be this way.  

If my blog can become famous and profitable, I will be rescued from the brink of adulthood.   If my blog becomes famous, it is possible that I will never have to wear pants again!  You have no idea how much this would mean to me.  I hate pants. 

Here is what you can do to help:

*Wear a brown ribbon in honor of my cause (nobody has dibs on brown yet, right?)  This will not only help me, but it will raise awareness for terminally adult people all over the world.  

*Run down the street screaming about how awesome my blog is.  Make sure to clearly annunciate the URL (spell it out if you have to.) 

*Hang up a banner outside your door that says "help rescue the author of hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com from impending adulthood." 

*Make flyers to support my cause.  Neon green and yellow would probably be good background colors for the flyers you make.  Just FYI.  

*Take out a phonebook.  Start dialing in the A's somewhere.  Educate the call recipient about my plight.  If they resist, ask them if they ever had a dream.  Use their first name if it is listed.  Try to use their nostalgia and insecurity over their broken dreams to get them on your side.  But don't be inefficient!  If you sense that the person is a heartless bastard who will not change their position no matter how much you plead, move on to the next name.  This is a numbers game and you can't get them all.  

*Call your local radio station.  Dedicate a song to me - preferably "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey.  Once again, make sure to clearly annunciate all syllables in my blog URL.  I cannot stress how important this is.    

That's all you have to do to assure that my future can be spent pants-less and happy!  Is that too much to ask? 

P.S.  I am completely serious about this.  How funny would it be if someone actually did some of these things?  Even if I don't get famous, I would probably be able to live the rest of my life in complete happiness knowing that some person, somewhere did these things in my honor.  

If you take a movie/picture of yourself doing any of these things, I will post it on my soon-to-be super famous blog along with a description of how awesome you are.  

P.P.S.  I wanted to tell you again that I am completely serious, just in case you didn't believe me.  

Am I Going To Die??

I woke up yesterday morning and became vaguely aware that my right toe felt like - well, the best way to describe it would be "dying-death-kill-maim-destroy-ness."  

This was only slightly more annoying than the fact that it was 6:00 AM on the only day I could sleep in and I could not get back to sleep. I tossed and turned until 6:37 and then decided that going to the ER would be a good idea because I was 96% sure that there was a firemonster in my toe.  

So it was that I found myself competing for medical attention with a burn victim, a dying six-year-old and a man with what appeared to be a dragon-conquering wound.  They were all looking at me like I did not deserve to be there.   

When it was finally my turn to be seen by the doctor, he asked me what was wrong and I had to look him in the face and say "my toe hurts."  

He asked me if I had a blister.   I was a little offended that he had so grossly underestimated my ability to accurately assess pain.  

"It's not a blister," I told him with what I hoped was an icy glare.  

He proceeded to ask me if I had a splinter.     

"It's not a splinter,"  I said in a low, menacing tone.  I wanted to tell him that it was probably a firemonster, but doctors don't like it when you beat them to a diagnosis.  I decided to play it cool.  

The doctor asked me to remove my socks.  Upon seeing my bulbous, throbbing toe, he appeared to take me a little more seriously.  

After asking me about several pleasantly legitimate possible sources of pain, like hammer wounds, rabid spiders and gout, he said "I'm going to order you some antibiotics just in case..."  

As it turns out, I may have an infection in my bone.  This means that I have to take a ludicrous amount of antibiotics every six hours to prevent death.  

My body doesn't seem to understand that the antibiotics are on its side.  So far, it has tried virtually every trick in the book to violently expel the antibiotics from my system.   I've tried to talk to my body about its behavior.  I told it that it was going to die if it didn't learn to get along with the antibiotics.  It didn't seem to care.  It is a stupid, stubborn little body - the kind of body that would die just to prove a point.  

I have since changed my angle.  I am now trying to appeal to my body's competitive side.  I told it that death means failure.  I asked it if it wanted to fail.  It made a gurgling sound which I interpreted to mean "no."  I said "Okay then, if you don't want to fail, I would suggest not dying.  Nobody wins if you die."  

I don't know whether or not I got through to it, but I am encouraged by the fact that my body has yet to follow through on dying.  Though I'd like to give myself credit for convincing my body not to die, the truth is there is another more plausible explanation for my continuing survival:  For all of its stubbornness, my body is also lazy - so lazy that it may forgo dying simply because it is too much work.   

It's Game Time! Vote For the Winner!

I challenged my fellow blogger, Kaloo, to a duel.  The idea is that our readers will vote for which of the following MS paint creatures would win in a battle to the death.  

This week we have Fire-breathing Spiky Unicorn versus Kung Fu Chicken.  

When voting, please take into account each creature's strength, agility, size, intelligence, special powers and basic awesomeness.   

Okay.   The power is in your hands now.   Will it be Kung Fu Chicken or Fire-breathing Spiky Unicorn?  Go!