That'll teach me to change my password!

I called an Osmond/Osbourne finale for Dancing With the Stars and I couldn't be happier with what they've done. GO KELLY! GO DONNY! #fb #

Shipped by LoudTwitter, Twitted by LyndaN.

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This is my life. I'm lucky. I know it. I'm grateful.

Total coincidence that this one ran during Thanksgiving week, because while I knew I'd be down to the last 18k words of my epic NaNoWriMo tale, I had no idea it would be so difficult to get to 37,000-ish words this year. I mean, yeah, if it was easy I'd have 78 books out already like that chick who writes those Love Is Using Horses To Kill Men So Katherine Heigl Gets With Dale Midkiff stories. But this year MS Word overheats my computer every time I use italics and also possibly inflames my intestines. What is that? I don't care. I'm happy. I'm lucky. I know it. I'm grateful.

You think the dialogue from that last panel would make a good button? I figure about 10" in diameter...LOL.

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Oh no, suddenly all the illusions are torn away like a paper towel that got splattered with whatever that it that splattered it that you can't quite look directly at.

So do sucky songs cause ear worms? Or are ear worms just like people, and capable of liking both good songs AND utter crap? I created this character and I don't even know.

And about my last tangent about being Otto, yes I realize I'm basically Ken (but not as adorable as Michael Palin) but eh...not that this quiz exists, but given the choice between hanging someone out a window or running them over with a steamroller, I'd go for the quicker, easier, madder way, mainly because I've not got a steamroller but I've got lots of windows. It's okay, the window have bars and I've also got a hernia.

Someone needs to make a Which A Fish Called Wanda Character Are You quiz. Not me, I'm...chasing shapeshifting madmen around the forest in the guise of four quite sad and not-as-drunk-as-they-ought-to-be men. Or I was before I remembered I needed to post my comic.

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I really, really love A Fish Called Wanda. Were memes around back in 1988, I'd have a little .gif saying "You are Otto" on my Prodigy web page.

And...this one was low on gags. It's setting up the next one.

I'm still working on using one shot to crack everyone up rather than setting up a joke and standing in the corner with a sign that has "LAUGH, CLOWNS, LAUGH!" written in very tiny illegible scrawl.

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"Oh, I love to write!" I told the singing teacher.

She told me to write a song.

I couldn't think of anything.

Mum and Nan wrote a song.

I couldn't sing it.

Not because I didn't think it was a hilarious musical homage to hair dye, but because my vocal cords were always bratty bratty bastards. That and I couldn't find the notes in my head on the keyboard to write any music to go with the lyrics. It was a long time ago. Now I don't worry about not being good enough, because trying and failing miserably is better than not trying. Plus I've seen better people than me fight for things and get their asses kicked by the sadistic fairies of unfairness.

It's all something to write about, I guess. -_-

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That'll teach you not to sit on telephone lines.

And the telephone lines rejoiced!

My puppy, the fearsome wrinkly-headed terrier mix that could potentially be a bit of something my mum doesn't like to think about, will not cross the paths of two tiny little black cats. There is my Friday the 13th offering. Wait! Once, I was on a ladder while watching the Puppy not cross the paths of the black cats. TRIFECTA!

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Name that earworm! What, you don't get Aimee Mann songs stuck in your head? Or Anne Murray? Wait, do any of you whippersnappers KNOW Snowbird? I am totally not exaggerating in that last panel.

If you missed the joke the Fluffy One's story is based on, here it is again:

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I'm in the middle of a particularly horrific flare at the moment so I'll just wish everyone a happy Veteran's day because it's like if you're a Veteran the odds are you rock and if you're enjoying the day off or getting good deals on appliances it's because Veteran's rock, so veterans rock. War sucks ass, but veterans rock.

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You don't like that story, I'll tell you another. The story The Fluffy One is attempting to tell comes from a card we found way way back in the '80s, and I typed up the saying, and my Poppy thought the story was so funny he even overlooked that I was saying very bad words indeed.

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...Some people live the sappy greeting cards, but not me.

I have no idea how many words I've written for my NaNoWriMo novel...but there are a lot of them.

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They tell you an apple a day keeps the doctor away, but they don't tell you that's because doctors are fed up with bartering for fruit.

I put all my love and pencil rubbings into this one. Just look at the comic, and if you still like me afterward then you would not only like me unfiltered by the Internet, but you'll like the book I'm about 8000 words into.

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Oh yes...it's going to get so much worse. MUAHAHA...not that bad, but I still love bears and their mad fish-catching skillz

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Over the summer, columnist Joel Stein made a crack about a certain former Alaska governor's Twitter dig about mama bear not looking for handouts. Filled with the holy fire of never having had health coverage combined with some wicked heatstroke, I instantly authored an entire "children's" book in one night and promptly lost the balls to go through with illustrating it because quite honestly a lot of righties follow me on Twitter and I don't understand my appeal to righties because I am the type of person who would totally create a book called Mama Bear and the Chopper Of Death and laugh the whole time, but there it is. I won't question it, and I'm slightly afraid to piss off my fan base.

This week, I tell the best part of the story. Thank you, Joel Stein, you will most likely never know what you created.

I like bears. Huggy little bears with big slashy claws. ROWR!

Oh yeah, I'm also about 2,000 words into my NaNoWriMo '09 story. I'm enjoying it but I've killed a whole lot of paper people. MUAHAHAHA!

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Nothing says horror like earworm eggings.... Eh. Ew. Look, this is all meant to be gross for the Halloween times. BOO!

This is the first strip to ever get a different ending the night after I drew it. I was totally sending us home, but there's no reason to do that for what I'm doing next. Nothing like telling freaky stories in a strange place. And I will be telling stories. MUAHAHAHA

Happy Halloween, Blessed Samhain, enjoy your loot, get sugared up for NaNoWriMo, don't egg your friends unless they like that sort of thing, and just have a bloody good time. If possible.

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Yes, I did draw this after the moon got bombed for ices. I'm glad The Puppy's (no longer existent) ear infection didn't involve a "debris plume." o_O

I'm not sure that teleporting a sentient earworm home is such a good idea. But then I don't seem to have a grasp on what's best for the greater good so I've been told in the past. LOL. Yes, this has a hidden message in it, this one. Right there in the third panel where I'm cheerily saying something that makes no sense to me at all just to prove a point. What I was angsty over two weeks ago has worked out in my favor quite nicely though so now I just gladly become the poster girl for everyone who suggests something obvious only to be told they have no idea what they're talking about. Only the earworm has persuasive powers.

Obey the earworm...listen to some catchy music.

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Life lessons I worked into this comic:

Spiders exhale helium.

Earworms cannot be set on fire.

Sea Of Heartbreak by Rosanne Cash and Bruce Springsteen hasn't left my brain in three weeks.

THANKS, Johnny Cash. Thanks so much. (No really, it's awesome!)

The plot advances faster Wednesday.

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Wait, I know a librarian or two, and they have more spunk than me. BUT I HAVE SELF-CONFIDENCE! I just...suck at many things.

Your result for The Social Persona Test (Version 2.5)...

The Emo Girl (QLBF)

Quirky Liberal Beta Female

Take The Social Persona Test (Version 2.5) at HelloQuizzy

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Thankfully I have never experienced anything like this ever.

But it is the scary season.

Boo!

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Did I ever tell the story about how I messed up and The Puppy ended up with a cute ear infection? Yeah, it wasn't really cute, and it's all better now, and I'd kick myself but The Puppy did it for me and I got a comic or ten out of it!

I'd say, "WHOO!" but it's not like there's anything good about being entrussed with guests in the ear. TOWELS GOOD.

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What better thing to break up tense moments than slapstick humor?

An crash mat and an icepack, maybe.

A flamethrower, even better.

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One time a man phoned the house, and I didn't know him but he knew my name and address, and told me he was going to be there soon.

I was in the house with the cat and dog, and no other humans. Everyone else had gone out for the day. They didn't mention they might be picking out a recliner and would be giving my name as a contact to the deliverymen.

So I sat there, back to the door, gripping the carved Thai sword our late neighbor Soo Soo wanted my family to have, and thinking how unfortunate it was to have picked up the telephone instead of just faking that I wasn't there so I could finish watching the making of Bram Stoker's Dracula.

Mum and Nan came home before the truck got there. The recliner was pretty nice, and a great deal. No one was stabbed. It gives me a laugh.

LAUGH WITH ME!

You know, instead of calling me up telling me you know where I live.

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What better way to celebrate nearly losing a finger to a lawn chair 25 years ago than making a joke in a comic strip about slamming fingers in things? I know, get a cat to pull your finger! HELL YES!

It's funny, trust me.

What kinda freaks me out is people actually HAVE lost finger bits to lawnchairs. I had no idea that sitting down was so damn dangerous to the general public. You see kids? You're not freaks, even if all you do all day is hit your head on doorknobs, odds are there are...others. Maybe not many others, but there's nothing unique about your injuries whatsoever. So stop crying. Laugh.

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