Once there was a chemical leak so bad that everyone in a 2 mile radius had to go the hospital. People were puking up and all I wanted was eat eggs. Roommates who would have Mexican standoffs over dishes with food growing sentient. But the moment my sister starts to fart, I’m pretty much that little girl screaming & crying.

There have been dead things left in cars in the Arizona summer that have smelled better. It’s awful. My sister 4’11″, maybe a little a buck after an all you can eat buffet had potent enough gas to make the chrome melt off of a trailer hitch.

Again, this me wanting to run away.

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I’ve come to an understanding. I’ve known this for a while, but this is me publicly making this known: I’ll never be a big hero. Maybe a little hero that saves someone before being crushed by a giant used tampon, but nothing more. I’ll be another arch-type. I’m the Woody Allen. Nervous, twitchy, smart ass, who is sort o a sidekick that isn’t behind him all the way. Who’ll get hit, but it would never be that bad since I made a decent joke beforehand.

I’ll never stand up with my man tits and crotch pointed at the world with a backlight and my hair being a de-facto cape. I’ll be stealing some limelight on the B-roll telling that the hero has to look for the right area to stand before he makes his big comment to the world. Generally it’s me going and scouting for him, looking for a kid or a really hot woman to hold onto. He’ll get the gorgeous girl(personally she looks a little to done up) and I’ll get her somewhat really naturally attractive when she’s not around friend(she looks almost the same when she gets up in the morning as when she went to bed).

We both have dumb luck, he pushes it and I just try not to think about it. He’s the guy who stands in front of  a group of people exchanging gun fire and I’m under the table with my beer trying to stay out of the way. We begin to get choked up with the waitress gets hurt. Him because he couldn’t save her and me because she dropped that pitcher of beer I ordered.

Of course when it comes to our views on life, he’ll be god and country with the knowledge that his actions will change the world. Mine are more a long the lines that while my benefits are pretty good, I really could use a cost of living increase.

So I’ll never be that big hero. Which is OK… Who wants to be that guy that everyone wants to shoot at.

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Back a few years ago, I was a huge coffee drinker. I drank a lot. Which caused me to pee a lot. A lot a lot. So this had an unfortunate response of me dribbling. From a guy who likes to wear khaki colored cargo pants it is unfortunate to see spots on my pants. You can only blame water splash on your crotch for so long. That means you have to dab to have the urine to be drawn to the paper as fast as possible. Thankfully there was a single men’s room. But the title means there is something to the story.

Once years ago, while I was still in my current job under a different name, I had to pee. Which is fine and all, but I forgot to lock the door. While dabbing, in comes the Director. To walking it would look like I was cleaning up after a jerk. The look on his face, was pure horror. I’m sure mine was a combination of embarrassment and horror. Here I am cleaning after myself and here is my boss seeing what looks like one of his subordinate finishing up jerking off during the work day.

The director just about faces and walks out the door. I walk out and duck my head for the next few months. It was the proper thing to do by two men. Don’t confront what had happened, just avoid eye contract and not mention that ever again. EVER.

There isn’t an easy way to bring that up moment. “Uh… Yeah boss that wasn’t me jerkin’ off. That was mean cleaning up because my coffee consumption is so high that I dribble worse than an invalid on rainy day.”

You’d be able to see a giant bull shitting all over the place with those words coming out of your mouth. It’s a hard sell for anyone to make and even great for someone to believe. Hell, even I wouldn’t be able to believe it. It was never mentioned and a few days later, there was a deadbolt placed on the single men’s room.

It was a real unfortunate misunderstanding.

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I’ve been purchasing things for my boys for a while now for Christmas. I learned after a while that leaving everything until the last possible moment is a bad idea. Last year I had fun and went a month early, even did Black Friday and did 32 hours of uptime after a large dose of turkey. This year I started further back and just have gone forward with no hint of trying to do Black Friday.

It’s been a combination of eBay and early hits at stores with one Craig’s List for godo measure. Outside what we still ned to get for Kid A, Kid B was sorta cheap.

This is the latest acquisition for Kid B, two Republic Gunships from Star Wars. It was a lucky purchase since normally these things are hella expensive, the listing was ‘Gun Ship’ and not ‘gunship.’ This slight error made it so there wasn’t a ton of people bidding on this item.

Four hours before, I had a bid on another gunship and that one settled at $70. A couple days before that one stopped at $120. All of a sudden, 2 for $61 was the sale of the century. Here is a photo of what they look like. Once everything is has been sent in, I’ll be taking photos of everything. It will be a nice list of goodies.

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When the Oatmeal talked about what things never need to be photographed, one of them was the idea that you don’t really need to take a photo of yourself in the bathroom. I have a slight disagreement with that. Back when I was working in Phoenix making greeting cards, I was able to make my own. I had an image on the front and one on the back.  This is the one on the back. It might possibly be one of the few images that I really like of myself. Maybe it’s the absurdity of it image. Or the fact that I sent it out as part of my Holiday cards that year.

I got your lump of coal right here.

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I have an association with Pulp21. I’m their cat herder. As such, it means that I’m the guy who is suppose to keep them on track with story ideas and doing actual work. The three of us have admittedly been rather slack with our output over the last few years. This year, things changed. Chet and Richard have both produced a story that was placed in a comic and hawked at the New York Comicon. They told me that when the next thing comes out, I’m allowed to have some of my work in the book.

That means that I have to start working on stories. And I am.

This is where babies come from

There are four sizes of sketch/notebooks that  I use to keep ideas and notes to myself down on. Thankfully I have enough presence of mind to understand what I’m talking about in these little bastards. But there are starting to come in real handy as I write more and more story ideas and scratches for designs to later refine.

With the ideas being placed down, now it’s time to start weaving a story. Or in my case, since a lot of theses ideas can’t touch each other, stories. So far there are four concrete ideas that want to be told. And one happens to be  zombie story. I know they’re played out, but this is one that I’ve wanted to tell for at least 8 years now. It’s not a bad story and it’s not a good story, but it has something to say and it’s at the low end of the scale so more then likely, it won’t be told until zombies make a revival again.

Until then there are a few more stories to write down. No good guys or bad guys, just guys with problems.

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You’ve heard the phrase “that’s gay.” It’s been used so often that it’s gone from past offensive to desensitized back to offensive. I’ve come to a compromised. Instead of gay, things can be queer. At least with queer it has a few more entries in it outside of homophobic in nature.

Here is a large portion of the word queer on dictionary.com

• strange or odd from a conventional viewpoint; unusually different; singular: a queer notion of justice.
• of a questionable nature or character; suspicious; shady:Something queer about the language of the prospectus kept investors away.
• not feeling physically right or well; giddy, faint, or qualmish:to feel queer.
• mentally unbalanced or deranged: Glenn Beck is queer. [editor's note: Casey added this on his own accord. This isn't on dictionary.com's definition of the word 'queer']

So we’re going to use the term “That’s so queer.” It is using the word queer in the right manner. In a sense, like Randell Graves from Clerks II, I’m taking the word back. I’m taking back queer to be something that isn’t used as a homophobic slur. In a sense it’s a transitional phase. Since queer still has that homophobic feel, we’re going to gently move the term over to the none homophobic use.

Besides, whenever I hear the word “gay,” I don’t think:

Oddly enough, this isn't what I picture when I hear the word gay.

But since I grew up on re-runs, the idea of the word gay, I think of this:

This when happens when I think gay. Over time, some homosexual overtones after a while.

I see the Flintstones. A group of people who overall were very gay. And not the homosexual above but the happy people who travel and vacation together all the time and where constantly hatching a scheme is looked upon as a good thing.

So again, we are now changing “that’s so gay,” to “that’s so queer.”

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When I was at the ACE Hardware getting glass and I see this magnificent pipe wrench that was three feet in height. I can only imagine how many people need a wrench that’s this large.

FYI: It’s $300.

Pipe wrenches

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One night a week, my sister and I have dinner at my mom’s house. It’s a chance to catch up over the week & I get to do laundry. It’s pretty nice time. My sister being my sister has the balance of a drunkard on an ocean liner during a storm. I took her laundry to the car. My mom’s neighbor was tracking a giant scorpion with a broom and the headlights of his friends car. I had to get a photo of the scorpion before we directed the car to run over the scorpion.

I apoligize in advance for the quality of the images. This was about 20:30 with headlights, pen light and the “flash” on the phone.

This is when the scorpion was alive.

This was a minute later when it the car ran it over.

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Stare at the center for 30 seconds. A good hard stare at the center. Then immediately whip your head and look at your hand. You might want to hold up your hand and look at it.

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