Merry Christmas!

Well, it is C minus 3, and we're pretty well snowed in up here in Seattle. On the one hand, my truck does not handle ice well, so I haven't actually driven anywhere since Friday when I came home from work (and barely made it). On the other hand, the ninjas were not prepared for the snow and don't have any white outfits. There's nothing sadder (or funnier) than a ninja in black trying to hide in the snow . . .

At any rate, I will 'theoretically' be flying out for California tomorrow. I say 'theoretically' as many, many flights have been cancelled and I have no clue if I'll be making it out.

We will be taking the next two weeks off, to both enjoy the holiday and get ready for Issue #6.

All of us here at Single Edge Studios, including myself, Leigh, the ninjas, the zombots, the orcs, the storm troopers, and the VOICE OF DOOM, would like to wish you a very merry Christmas. Have fun and be safe.

Cheers,
-Jason

Arthas' Underpants

It should come as no surprise to most of you that I play WoW.

NOTE: If you do happen to be reading this blog for the very first time, allow me to point out that I am a colossal nerd. Now that that’s over with, enjoy the rest of the blog.

Like the rest of the world, I am currently enjoying exploring the new continent of Northrend, which means that I get so see the following image every time something needs to load:



In case you didn’t know, this is Arthas (Arthas, these are my readers, all two of them). Arthas is the main villain of Wrath of the Lich King and is generally held to be the biggest douche in the entire WoW universe.

Now let’s pause a moment to take a close look at the above picture of Arthas. What do you notice about his taste in adornment? Look closely (no, not that close). What symbol is he wearing all over? That’s right, skulls. Lots of skulls. I count eight visible skulls on his armor, though I’m guessing he’s got at least a half-dozen more that we can’t see. I also count six skulls on his sword, making a total of fourteen skulls visible in the picture.

What does this suggest to me? Evil insecurity. I mean, how many skulls do you need to demonstrate your evilness? One, two, maybe three? This guy has FOURTEEN in plain view.

I’m guessing this is the evil version of the middle-age crisis. Instead of getting a sports car and a toupee, Arthas just put skulls on everything. He’s looking at the younger villains, seeing all the evil schemes they’re putting in motion, and wondering if he can still compete. Does he still have ‘it,’ where ‘it’ is defined as being a soulless monstrosity? He’s not sure, so he’s gonna stick a skull on everything and hope it works.

I just can’t imagine what the rest of his wardrobe might look like. Actually, I can:



Cheers,
-Jason

Mimes And/Or Squirrels

My internet connection is down. I have contacted my ISP and have been informed that there are ‘technical difficulties’ of some unknown variety. Personally, I suspect either squirrels or mimes (perhaps ‘mirrels’ which is what you would get if a mime and a squirrel made whoopy).

So, that means that my blogs might be late or altogether absent for the remainder of the week. This is a pity, as I have a good one about Arthas’ underpants ready to go.

‘Forsooth!’ I hear you cry out. ‘You claim no internet, yet you have just blogged!’ I’m actually updating this from work, which is kind-of a no-no, so I won’t be making a habit of it.

Anyhow, when the ‘technical difficulties’ subside, I will blog forthwith.

Cheers,
-Jason

Wolverine!

I was completely unaware of the existence of this film until a co-worker sent out a link yesterday afternoon.

I must admit that Wolverine is not my favorite X-Man. However, I think Hugh Jackman's portrayal of him is excellent and he pretty much made the first two films.

Enjoy!



Cheers,
-Jason

Christmas Eve x 10

We here at Single Edge Studios are busily getting ready for Christmas. I did my part today by assisting Leigh in putting up his Christmas tree. I tried to get the ninjas to help, but they all cited some sort of 'emergency' or 'assassination' or something and vanished in a puff of smoke.

In other news, Issue #5 is close to wrapping up. We already have #6 laid out (hint: there will be at least one explosion) and are looking forward to finishing it and the first arch of the series.

Look for the next page on Tuesday and the usual blogging during the rest of the week.

Cheers,
-Jason

Death and . . . : Part 3

“Why are you still here?” I asked the voice from the answering machine.

“I LIKE HAIKUS.”

“Ah.” I shrugged at the ninjas, who shrugged back. “Look, guys,” I began. “I would normally be overjoyed to fight you all, but this thing, y’know?” I gestured vaguely towards the answering machine.

The lead ninja bowed once again. “We understand, Polack-sama. We will withdraw until such time as you need burial.”

“Gee, thanks.”

All the ninjas simultaneously threw down their smoke pellets and there were a dozen flashes and the living room immediately filled with smoke. If you listened closely, you would have heard a two-dozen tabi-clad feet move to the doorway, briefly tug on the handle, realize it was locked, unlock it, and then move out into the entry, closing the door behind them, and then arguing about who got to ride ‘shotgun’ in the official ninja van. I, however, heard none of this, as I had turned on the kitchen fan and was fanning the smoke towards it.

“Well,” I said to no one in particular as the last of the smoke dispersed and I put my bayonet back on top of the weapon rack. “This has been a day.”

“TELL ME ABOUT IT.”

I frowned. “Don’t you have better things to do? Like terrorizing small children or poking aardvarks?”

“NOT REALLY.”

“Great. I’m gonna get some dinner, pet the cat, and maybe watch a movie. I’ll call you in the morning.”

“WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO WATCH?”

“I dunno. I haven’t really thought about it.”

“CAN I WATCH IT WITH YOU?”

“Uh . . . “ A thought formed in my head. It had something to do with building gun that shot pork. A second thought occurred right after that one and I went with it. “If you tell me what this is all about, maybe.”

“REALLY?”

“Sure.”

“UMM . . . THERE’S A DISCREPENCY WITH YOUR ADDRESS AND IT NEEDS TO BE CLEARED UP.”

“That’s it? You scared the ninjas and all that just for an address change?”

“YES.”

“Why?”

“I’M TERRIBLY, TERRIBLY LONELY.”

“Right.” I shrugged. “Your choice: 36 Chambers of Shaolin or My Young Auntie?”

“OOOH, 36 CHAMBERS!”

“You got it.”

The rest of the night proceeded uneventfully.

Cheers,
-Jason

Death and . . . : Part 2

I walked to the answering machine as the ninjas silently watched. Again, something they do very well. I pressed the ‘Message’ button and prepared for the worst.

I got it.

“YOU!” boomed a voice from the machine. It was a dark voice, full of malice and venom, the likes of which Sauron had only wished he had. The voice clearly indicated a person who would not only kick a puppy, but would take pleasure in doing so. It was, in short, the voice of the I.R.S.

“AN ERROR HAS BEEN FOUND! YOU WILL CALL THE FOLLOWING NUMBER BETWEEN THE TIME OF 8:00 AM AND 5:00 PM AS SOON AS POSSIBLE! TARRY NOT, THE I.R.S. IS NOT PATIENT!” A number followed. I will not list it, as it is the number of Hell itself and I’m afraid it might wipe my hard drive.

“Wow!” I said, after the beep. “That was a voice.”

“THANK YOU!” boomed the voice.

“Uh, is this part of the recording?”

“NEGATIVE!” said the voice, still emanating from the answering machine.

“Then how are you doing that?”

“DO NOT QUESTION THE WAYS OF THE I.R.S.!”

“Okay,” I said. “I won’t.”

“GOOD! THAT IS ALL!”

The answering machine fell silent. I turned to the assembled ninjas, one of whom seemed to have wet himself. “I guess I’m calling tomorrow.”

“It has been a pleasure knowing you,” said the ninja. “We have already fashioned a haiku in your memory.”

“Really?”

The ninja held up a hand and the others sprang into action. Flutes, biwas, and other instruments were produced and on some invisible signal, they played a haunting tune.


“+3 against us
Many ninjas he did strike
Like the winter, gone.”

I clapped politely.

“VERY NICE!” said the voice from the answering machine.

Tomorrow: The Conclusion (and no more haiku, I promise)

Death and . . . Part 1

I arrived home yesterday, tired, but filled with the satisfaction that a good day’s work had been done. Granted, said work hadn’t been done by me, but I was pretty sure somebody, somewhere, had done it.

Actually, in all honesty, I work very hard. Very, very hard. So hard, that if I were to try to work harder, my fingers would actually disintegrate the keyboard I was using. The friction from the movement of my mouse would catch the desk on fire and my monitor would have a burned-in picture of my face from me staring at it so intently.

Nobody, I’m sure, would want any of that to happen.

NOTE: The preceding two paragraphs were for my boss’ benefit.

So, having arrived home, I noticed something unusual: the ninjas were all there, waiting patiently in that ‘waiting patiently’ way ninjas do. I readied myself for the usual ‘Monday Night Donnybrook’ when a ninja stepped forward.

“Greetings, Iron Polack-sama,” he said, bowing low.

“Hey,” I replied, cracking my knuckles. “Where’s Steve?”

“Alas,” said the ninja. “Steve-san is recovering from last Thursday’s crowbar incident.”

“Yeah, I got him pretty good.”

“As you say, o’ hirsute one.”

“So what’s with the whole ‘non-attacking’ thing?” I asked, as I stared at my small collection of weaponry. I had been using the mace a lot lately, so I went with the bayonet.

“You have a message,” the ninjas said, bowing and gesturing towards the answering machine, which showed a single red ‘1.’

“Really? Who from?”

“The I.R.S.” The ninjas bowed. “We are all very sorry for your impending doom. Please accept our sincerest condolences.” All the ninjas bowed together.

“Well, catnuts,” was all I could say.

Tomorrow: Part 2

The Doghouse

This is, of all things, a JCPenny commercial. It's very clever for a 'mainstream' ad and should generate some sales from viewers with a sense of humor.

http://creativity-online.com/work/view?seed=5e32d548

Enjoy!

Cheers,
-Jason

Preparing to be Cheerful

Christmas is creeping up on us once again and all of us at Single Edge Studios are preparing to make merry.

Insert sound of preparatory cheerfulness.

We have been staying busy as usual, what with the end of Issue #5 coming up shortly. We are already hard at work getting #6 ready for your reading pleasure.

What else, what else . . . I vacuumed? Certainly a red-letter day for me, but of little importance on the world stage. Steve and the other ninjas are now much happier, especially since I also found/cleaned a few presents my cat left for me in out-of-the way corners.

Anyhow, look for a page on Tuesday and more blogging goodness during the rest of the week.

Cheers,
-Jason

Morning Mental Math

I may have mentioned this before, but I stink at math. Oh, I can add, subtract, and multiply and all the stuff (notice I said nothing about division) decently, it’s just that once you get past that I get into trouble.

Algebra was always a mystery. At a certain point in class, I just simply lost the thread. I would be doing fine, getting good scores on all my tests and then the instructor would say something like “And if we take this algorithm and make this number negative, what would happen?”

The rest of the class would have a collective “Aha!” moment and start scribbling notes. I, on the other hand, would have “I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts” going through my head. From that point on, I just became more and more lost until I started getting better scores on my tests by just writing ‘Albania’ for all of the answers.

Anyway, there is one type of math that I excel at. I call it Morning Mental Math (I would call it 3M, but I would get sued). Mx3 is when you wake up and have a certain amount of time before you need to actually be out the door, but you desperately want to sleep in. Therefore you start trying to figure out exactly how much longer you can sleep and what you can put off to get that sleep.

For example: Ideally, it takes me 80-minutes from getting up to arriving at work.
30 minutes on the exercise bike
10 minutes to eat
10 minutes to bathe and dress
10 minutes to make my lunch
20 minutes to actually drive to work

In a perfect world, I would be up by 7:20. However, on many mornings (ie, all of them), I slap the Snooze button and then wake up at 7:30-ish. This is when the Mental Morning Math starts.

I desperately want, nay NEED, 10 more minutes of sleep. So I say to myself ‘If I only eat half a bowl of cereal and wash really, really fast, I can sleep ‘till 7:40.’ Ten minutes pass. ‘Okay,’ I say to myself again. ‘I can do 20 minutes on the bike, but do them extra hard.’ Ten more minutes pass. ‘I really need 15 more minutes,’ I say once again. ‘If I divide 10 by 2, that gives me 5, which means that I can make 1 PBJ in half the time, while simultaneously riding my bike for 15 minutes at top speed, which means I can bathe and dress in 337 seconds, while taking the fast route to work, thus getting (4.3 x (4 / pie) + the square root of 13) more minutes of sleep and still getting to work on time.’

I hit the Snooze button once again, have a short, muddled dream about carnivorous bowling balls (they eat your fingers), and wake up at 8:18. At that point, I mutter ‘Albania’ and roll back over.

I eventually arrive at work fifteen minutes late, with shampoo in my hair, no lunch, and my underwear on backwards and on the outside of my pants.

My coworkers, I should point out, no longer bother to comment.

Cheers,
-Jason

Apt Reward: Part 2

KillZer scratched his head. “Look, it’s a nice stick, but to be frank, I don’t need or want it. Unless this thing hits like an Adamantite Reaver, I’m just gonna sell it.”

The king gasped. “But that’s my kingdom’s most prized possession! It’s a priceless artifact of our first King!”

“Priceless, huh?” said KillZer. “Like, ‘empty your treasury’ priceless?”
“Well, maybe not that priceless.”

“How about 15 gold?”

“10.”

“14.”

“10.”

“13.”

“Done!” The king gestured to another page who counted out 13 gold while the other page retrieved the staff.

“Pleasure doin’ business with ya,” said KillZer, as he walked out of the throne room.

“Likewise,” said the king.

“Sire,” said a well-dressed courtier as KillZer disappeared. “Aren’t you afraid that one of the days a ‘hero’ will actually want the Staff?”

“Nah,” replied the king. “If they’re wearin’ a dress, give ‘em the Sword of 1000 Truths. Armor and they get the staff.” He shrugged. “It’s worked the last 3774 times.”

“Most wise, your majesty.”

Cheers,
-Jason

Apt Reward: Part 1

One of the things that always amuses me about WoW and related games is that after saving the city/realm/village/whatever, you are offered a reward. Yet, unfortunately, most of the time said reward is useless. It is indeed a very fine cloth hat with incredible intelligence bonuses, but I’m a warrior and have little use for such things. Conversely, the average mage won’t need a two-handed hammer.

Yet, the text is generally written in such a way to convey the enormous magnitude of the reward. The villager/prince/duke/king/weird-vegetable-man is genuinely grateful for your slaying of the ogre/titan/dragon/15 rats and wants you to have his/her/its prized possession.

Which you can’t use.

Of course, what do you do with it (barring giving it to a friend or alt)? You sell it, of course. Though pragmatic, it is rather un-heroic. Would you pawn your Congressional Medal of Honor? Probably not. The key to a city given to you by a grateful mayor? I don’t know, that would probably depend on the city.

However much you might like to keep said treasure, bank space is limited and you can’t really afford to keep the doohickey around, so you really have to sell it.

The question, of course, is how would that work?

The king, an ornate crown upon his head and precious jewels upon his fingers, leaned forward. “Tell me, noble KillZer, have you defeated the dread dragon of Pointy Mountain?”

KillZer shrugged. “Uh, yeah. Here’s his head.”

‘Plop.’

The king recoiled a bit, as the blood splashed on the hem of his gold-threaded robe. “Umm, I really would have taken your word for it. And the Bandit Lord? Have you bested him as well?”

“Yep,” KillZer said, opening his bag. “Got his hea-“

“No need! Really,” the king said. “Ahem, yes. And finally, Phil the Horribly-Beweaponed. Have you finally ended his twelve-year reign of terror?”

“Sure. Got his left arm here somewhere and a toe or two . . . “ KillZer began rummaging through his backpack.

“Please, no proof other than your word is necessary,” The king said, holding up his hands. “Then, allow me to name you a Knight of this kingdom and bestow upon you this!” At his signal, a page came forward, carrying a long staff covered in intricate runes upon a pillow. “The Staff of Shrieking Fiery Death! Our greatest treasure!”

“Ah.” KillZer scratched his head. “That’s a real nice stick, but do you happen to have any two-handers back there? I really need an upgrade for my sword.”

“Sorry?”

Tomorrow: Part 2

YouTube Virus Warning!

I've just learned that there is a virus attached to a number of videos up on YouTube right now, including the one I posted yesterday. I am removing the video immediately and apologise for any harm this may have done.

For those curious, here's a post about the virus from SuperGeekBlog:

From CrunchGear moments ago, reports of a new virus are coming out just this morning. The virus seems to imbed a URL redirect to a phishing site.

The site apparently installs Antivirus 2009, which is malware. We’ll pull our most recent YouTube embeds, but be careful because this one appears to have just broken out today. If you find yourself being automatically redirected or experience other weird pop-ups, especially for something called Antivirus 2009, don’t click on anything.

Keep an eye out for more info/patches/etc on this.

The original site and text are: http://www.supergeekblog.com/2008/12/youtube-virus-actnsswift/

Again, apologies if this has caused problems for your machine.

-Jason

Office Nerf

Now, I don't like to brag, but I've seen my share of office nerf battles. There's the sweet joy in watching an enemy fall to whistling orange and yellow doom, the sorrow of seeing your office-mate, a young man who just a moment ago was placing cover objects in a level, fall to his knees, a dart stuck to his forehead. The sudden adrenaline of battle, which fades to an overwhelming emptiness, as you slowly try to find your darts again. I've been there, my friends, and I hope you never have to experience what I did (I got a dart in the eye. It really hurt).

I just love this video. The sheer amount of people that they had (not to mention the nerf gear) was amazing.

Enjoy!

VIDEO REMOVED DUE TO POSSIBLE MALICIOUS CONTENT

Cheers,
-Jason

Back!

Well, there goes another Thanksgiving.

It was largely uneventful. I had turkey with all the trimmings with a group of friends, as I was unable to get back down to California (though I will be returning for Christmas).

The ninjas did come 'round, though I never actually saw them. The left-over turkey was eaten and the mashed potatoes were gone, so I'm assuming it was them. Well, that and the poisoned dart someone shot me in the butt with. Luckily, the poison was counteracted by the stuffing and aside from a few minutes where I was concerned that the ceiling was melting, not much happened.

A new page will be up on Tuesday and look for the usual blogs throughout the week!

Cheers,
-Jason

Thanksgiving Week

Hey all,

I just wanted to say that I will be taking this week off from blogging. I realize that many of you will feel that your week will be incomplete without a steady stream of inanities about stormtroopers and zombies. However, I need to wrap up some stuff at work, what with taking part of the week off for Thanksgiving.

We will be posting a new page on Tuesday and the usual blogging goodness will return next week.

So, until then, here is my favorite clip from the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving Special:



Happy Thanksgiving!
-Jason

New and Improved: Part 2

iZombies:
These hip, sleek zombies would lurk near Apple Stores, waiting to pounce on unsuspecting iPod and iPhone users. With their stylish good looks and ease of use, the average Apple-enthusiast would be helpless before them. They would also play MP3s, movies, act as a phone, and allow you to surf the net while being eaten.

The only defense against the iZombie is to look like John Hodgman and shout ‘I’m a PC!’ This should stun them sufficiently to allow for an easy escape.

Zom-Babes:
Alert reader Kammorremae (which I think I spelled right) has suggested Zom-Babes. These rather attractive zombies would troll internet chat rooms and Craigslist, looking for a nice man to take them out to ‘lunch.’ They would be well-versed in the arts of flattery and faking interest, and would use every advantage to charm their unsuspecting victims.

“Oh, wow! You were the first level 80 DK on your server and you love to go to Southshore and gank noobs? You sound soooooo cool!”

J. Alexander Van Belkum suggested that a Zom-Babe could be used to distract a Nerd-bie. I would agree with that, but once they figured it out, they would team up and divest you of your gold and brains, more or less in that order.

Reverse-Zombies:
In a typical zombie movie, the zombie bites a human and after dying, the human turns into a zombie and begins wreaking havoc. The details change from film to film, but the basic transmission of being bitten tends to remain the same.

What if (he began gleefully) you had a Reverse-Zombie? That is, a human that when he bit a zombie, turned it back into a human? The basic question, of course, is why would a human want to bite a zombie, but stranger things have happened.

The idea is not perfect. What if a zombie bit the reverse-zombie? Would it then be a reverse-reverse-zombie? What if the zombie being bitten had missing limbs or had most of its torso removed with a shotgun? Would it turn back into a human only long enough to scream in agony and then die (again)? Could a zombie and a reverse-zombie take turns biting the same target, bouncing it between zombie and human?

The mind boggles. Well, at least mine does.

Cheers,
-Jason

New and Improved: Part 1

Thanks to Left 4 Dead, zombies are once again a hot topic in the gaming world. This got me thinking (as much as I ever do) about the different kinds of zombies. There are, in essence, two:

Slow zombies, who move, well, slowly. They tend to say ‘Brains’ a lot.

And fast zombies. They move quickly and don’t tend to say ‘Brains’ at all.

Granted, Left 4 Dead has Smokers, Boomers, Hunters, Witches, and Tanks as well, but they’re not really accepted as ‘standard’ zombies. They’re in a special class all their own (it’s like Special Ed, but you get to eat people for lunch).

As you can see, there’s not a lot of variation in zombies. They’re more-or-less dead and want to eat you. Mummies can curse you. Vampires get all the babes. Ghosts do . . . things. Okay, I don’t know what ghosts do. Moving on.

I have therefore decided to spice up the ranks of zombies with some new, more interesting versions of the walking dead. Please feel free to use them in your video games, movies, and television shows (assuming you give me money, of course).

Habeas Corpus (aka Law-Zombies):
Combining the horror of the walking dead with the sheer malevolence of a lawyer, Habeas Corpuses are generally found lurching around courthouses and upscale bars, muttering things like ‘Tort’ and ‘Martini.’ They won’t immediately go for your brain, preferring to first sue you into submission, so as to avoid having to chase you. Once you’re good and stunned by their devastating legal arguments, they will then dine on your grey matter, generally with some sort of Hollandaise sauce.

NOTE: I realize Habeas Corpus is a terrible, terrible pun. I did it on purpose (and am unashamed).

Nerd-bies:
The risen corpses of gamers and other sorts of nerds, Nerd-bies aren’t particularly interested in your brain. What they really want is all your WoW gold. They can often be found lurking in Game Stops and other similar stores, hoping to scare you into giving them your account information. Even easier to defeat than traditional, slow zombies, all you really need to do is point behind them and shout ‘Hey, it’s William Shatner!’ and then wander away while they’re distracted.

‘Leonard Nimoy’ also works, as will ‘Hey, that guy works for Blizzard!’

Tomorrow: Part 2

Left 4 Dead

I played quite a bit of Left 4 Dead today at work. One of the benefits of being in the game industry is that you sometimes need to do 'research' on a competitor. Of course, 'research' can take a while, as you really need to get to the heart of the game to fully evaluate it.

Needless to say, I love 'research.'

So, what do I think? The single player campaign is a solid B or B+. The AI is generally rather smart and can competently deal with the rampaging zombie hordes. They help you out, kill things, and are generally solid.

The Co-op campaign is a more difficult one to judge. I played a couple hours of co-op and it was a blast. However, not all players are created equal, so your mileage may vary. I can honestly say that with a coordinated, competent group that worked together, co-op would be an easy A or A+. However, I can easily see playing in a pick-up group being a nightmare, especially if you happen to fall in with a group of, how shall we say, 'dickwads.'

A few quibbles:
The areas are loosely populated with random undead, which are easy to pick off with pistols. Every so often, a 'horde' attacks and you get ten to twenty seconds of mayhem. Once the horde is dispatched, you go back to picking off strays. This cycle repeats throughout the game and once you get used to it, it's fairly predictable. 'Hey,' you might think, 'I just cleared a farmhouse, bet a horde will show up' and it will.

The gatling guns which are scattered about overheat and have a really limited firing angle. They're practically useless, though they can do bad things to a Tank if you get lucky. And honestly, gatling guns don't really overheat. That's why they have six or more barrels (that's why they're so widely used).

The shotgun seems to be the uber-weapon. You can take down any number of zombies in the blast area, so if you time it right, you can eliminate an entire horde in two or three shots.

The other weapons are okay, but I don't see a reason for the hunting rifle. The action tends to be close and fast, so sniping doesn't seem to be particularly useful. I haven't tried it yet, but I will.

Good things:
The characters look amazing. They have great dialogue and seem to have real personalities. I would occasionally forget they're AI and start trying to give them orders.

All the guns I've used so far are fun and do the job. I especially like the M-16 and the combat shotgun.

The sound effects are great. You eventually learn what sounds each of the bosses make, so once you hear it, you're instantly on guard and scanning for them. It's a great and subtle way of conveying information to the players.

The two movies I've played have been varied and fun. They've kept to their 'milieu' well and are believable environments. Sometimes, I'm not sure where exactly to go, but I've never gotten lost and actually, it feels believable in the situation.

Overall, I would totally recommend Left 4 Dead to any FPS fan. And even if you're not, download the demo and play with a couple of friends, you might be surprised at how much fun you're having.

Cheers,
-Jason

Water - No, Really

This video made its way 'round work the other day and I thought it was extremely cool. It's of a very hi-tech fountain in a Japanese mall.

It's not completely obvious what's happening initially, but give it a minute, it gets very, very cool.



Cheers,
-Jason

Wrath

If you happen to be one of the last people on Earth not playing WoW, you may be surprised to hear that Wrath of the Lich King, the most recent expansion has come out. We nerds have been waiting breathlessly for it and can now quest in North Rend to our hearts content. Assuming we can actually get on the server that is.

I haven't actually gone there yet, though I did install the expansion. I'll give it a few months, so I'm not fighting over spawns with everyone else. I'll wait even longer before I make a Deathknight. I just don't need another character right now.

Anyhow, there should, barring major accidents, explosions, ninjas and/or Godzilla attacks, or the implosion of our sun, a new page on Tuesday. And, as an added bonus, I'm just about done with Tales from the Fireside #6! That will be going up this week at some point, just as soon as I get a few last minute edits done.

Expect the usual blogs and weirdness the rest of the week.

Cheers,
-Jason

Same Old Stories

There comes a time in every relationship when you realize that you’ve heard all the other person’s stories. This happened to me the other day with Leigh. We were having lunch at our favorite Chinese restaurant (Peking in Redmond) and we our conversation pretty much went like this.

Me: “Oh, I talked to my buddy Bob yesterday. He was the one who did that thing with the goat-“

Leigh: “Oh yeah, and the plastic army men!”

Me: “Right! It was when-“

Leigh: “You were throwing the discus at the swimsuit competition!”

Me: “Yeah. Guess you heard that one before?”

Leigh: “You tell that one every other week.”

Me: “I do?”

Leigh: “Yep. Though that reminds me of the story where-“

Me: “The bees, the Ford Focus, the three pounds of cheese, and the guy with the wig.”

Leigh: “ . . . yes.”

Long pause.

Me: “I guess we’ve pretty much tapped the conversation supply. Our Small Talk Waterloo, as it were.”

Leigh: “You said that last week.”

This is not necessarily a bad thing. Leigh and I have known each other since college and frankly, it’s not like we’re international spies, where we’re having death-defying adventures every week (well, I am, but it’s a secret). We basically move in the same circles, share the same friends, and pretty much do everything but trade recipes. It says something I think, that we still enjoy hanging out, even though we don’t necessarily have anything new to say.

Though, I swear if he tells that story about whacking that mime with a ham hock again, I’m gonna kill him . . .

Cheers,
-Jason

Signs: Part 2

The other sign occurred in Texas, at the Dallas/Ft. Worth Airport (which, as far as airports go, was quite lovely). I needed to use the bathroom, as occasionally happens, and noticed a red and white sign near the door. It was a red circle with a white twister on it and the words ‘Severe Weather Area.’

I happened past three bathrooms and the sign was posted at each one. I did not see it anywhere else in the entire airport (or in the tiny bit of the rest of the state I saw).

This, of course, raises the question: what sort of natural disasters occur in a Texas airport bathroom that they felt a need to post a sign warning people about it? Do hurricanes occur in the bathrooms on a regular basis? Floods? Stampedes? Plagues of locusts? Hordes of Leprechauns?

Part of me really, really wanted to come tearing out of the men’s room and yell ‘Twister!’ before running off screaming. It would have been hysterical (to me, at least), but I would probably have been quickly subdued by several hundreds of pounds of TSA agent. Repeatedly.

Cheers,
-Jason

Signs: Part 1

As you may or may not have noticed, Leigh and I attended the Wizard World: Texas con this last week. This entailed that we get on a plane, which involves an elaborate ritual known as ‘going through security.’

Now, I am fine with all that. I will happily remove my shoes, belt, cell-phone, necklace, titanium skull plate, and Kryptonite toe (in case I have to fight Superman) and pass them through the metal detector like any other good citizen. This is not a problem, though I do take extra effort to ensure that my pants don’t fall down when I’m walking through the metal detector. Trust me, you only need to have it happen once, especially if you do it in front of a bus-load of Japanese schoolgirls on a vacation to the US. Schoolgirls who happen to have their cameras out and aren’t shy about pointing and laughing.

Moving on.

Anyhow, as Leigh and I were in the Disneyland-esque winding maze of partitions that lead to the metal detectors, holding up our pants with one hand, I happened to notice a sign. It read ‘Thank you for participating in security.’

This struck me as odd. The sign was somehow suggesting that we were voluntarily choosing to partially disrobe and allow strangers to wave metal devices at us (which I would do happily, assuming the people with the wands were attractive women).

It was just the idea that we were somehow not obligated to participate. Obviously, we didn’t have to, but we also wouldn’t be allowed to get on the plane. I would also bet that if we tried to get on the plane anyway, many hundreds of pounds of TSA agents would attempt to subdue us. Repeatedly.

So what am I saying? Let’s just call a spade a spade and point out that a more accurate sign would read ‘Thank you for cooperating with security.’ A sentence which happens to have the same number of characters (I checked).

Now, I am in no way shape or form suggesting that we shouldn’t have security in our airports. I am glad measures are being taken to prevent bad people from doing bad things while very far above the ground. However, let’s not mess around with an illusion of choice. You want to get on a plane? You allow security to do their thing.

Now I’m curious if the IRS building has a sign that reads ‘Thank you for cooperating in paying your taxes.’

Tomorrow: Part II: Texas bathrooms are more dangerous than they appear.

Updates, err... update.

Hello folks, this is Leigh. I just wanted to say “Hi” and also apologize for the lack of updates over the past two weeks. What with the virus that tried to eat my computer and preparing for the convention, as well as some work related deadlines I’ve fallen behind in my Wayfarer’s Moon work. I expect to have a page up next week, and to be back on our regular schedule from then on until life intrudes again.
Thanks for bearing with us, thanks for reading and thanks for letting us know you’d like to keep reading!

Leigh

Texas! The Return!

Well, we survived Wizard World Texas. All in all, it was a pretty good con, though Texas triggered my allergies like nothing else. I pretty much felt dehydrated the entire trip and drank enough water to float a small ship.

Half the fun of going to the cons is just meeting other professionals and we met a slew this time. Randy 'Rantz' Kantz whom we met before was there. To our left was the talented team from Mediocre Militia, behind us was Pepe Melan of Permanent Muzic, across from us was Amano Jyaku (may not be work safe) and Mark Henry. Also in the area were the brothers from HB Comics, Frank Cho, Talent Chadwell, and many others. Leigh also got to meet Matt Wagner (I didn't :().

I also have to say that the Texas con-goers were very polite and we kept having to tell people it wasn't necessary to call us 'sir.' I don't know if that's a Texas thing or just general Southern manners, but it made for a very pleasant trip.

Well, I got in at 2 am last night, so I'm going to hit the hay. Expect the usual weirdness during the week :)

Cheers,
-Jason

Rock the Vote: Part 2

The table was a dense mass of pamphlets and printouts that rose almost four-feet in height. The table was bowed slightly in the middle from all the weight.

“Name?” came a quavering voice from somewhere behind the stack.

“Jason Janicki, Grand Acolyte of the East, Master of Earth and Keeper of the Left-Hand Dragon.”

“One moment,” came voice again. There was the sound of paper rustling. A stack of paper quivered and then another, as if tiny paper moles were creating a serious of caverns beneath the piles in preparation for their inevitable attack on the surface world.

A paper emerged, held by a thin, old-person hand. “Here’s your ballet sheet and envelope. Deposit it in the black box when you’re done.”

I took the sheet, chest swelling with pride at the opportunity to vote and also from the liter of Coke I’d drunk on the way over. I made my way to a voting station and began to decipher the arcane symbols on the ballot. Apparently, I had to fill in some sort of ‘circle’ with a ‘pen’ using my ‘hand’ or ‘teeth’ next to the candidate or measure I wanted to ‘vote’ for.

I began the laborious process, trying to keep within the little lines. I erred, letting the black ink trail out and I cursed loudly, my vehemence melting part of the partition. I kept on, gritting my teeth as I filled in bubble after bubble. I started to sweat, which made my notes difficult to decipher. Soon, a small puddle of ink had formed under my arm and it occurred to me to remove my jacket and long underwear. Quite a show was had in the voting area that day.

After nearly ten-minutes of battle, I at last finished. I sealed my ballot within the provided envelope and dropped it in the large black box. A girl gave me a sticker, which I proudly displayed on my forehead. Making my way out of the building, I noticed Steve lingering by the door.

“Yo,” I said.

“We meet again,” Steve replied.

“Uh, yeah. What’s up?”

“I am, as the youth say, ‘waiting for my ride.’”

I stood in silence for a moment, letting the cool morning air rush across the cuts on my freshly shaved face. “You didn’t happen to be one of the ninjas that poisoned me last week, were you?”

“Most certainly,” he said, with a bow.

“I see.” I thought for a moment, which made my forehead crinkle and the sticker writhe in an interesting fashion. “Y’know,” I began. “Normally, I’d hit you with a brick and then give you a wedgie, but today is special.” I paused for dramatic effect and to think of something else to say. “Today, we voted.”

“Indeed.”

“Have a good day, Steve-san,” I said, nodding.

“And to you, Iron Polack-sama,” he replied bowing.

I considered just hitting with the brick anyway, but decided not to. I made my way to my truck, only to find that the stupid otter had used it as part of his damn. After a moment, I turned back to the school.

“Hey Steve. You mind giving me a ride?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.” I leaned against the wall next to the ninja. “You gonna try and poison me again tomorrow?”

Steve shrugged. “Probably.”

Cheers,
-Jason

Rock the Vote: Part 1

I pulled into Redmond Junior High, narrowly avoiding the otter that had chosen a really odd place to build a dam. I quickly found a parking spot and after a brief moment to survey my surroundings, I walked into the main hall.

The corridors were clean and neat, a welcome change from the dank, spider-infested Junior High that I attended. Or, at least, the place I was sent to against my will when I was 12. Then again, I might have gotten lost and hung out in a deserted castle for two-years. It was hard to tell.

I quickly located the polling place, mainly by reading the 317 signs with arrows that said VOTE on them pointing towards the library. The library itself proved to be full of people, many of whom appeared to be voting, but that was an assumption I wasn’t ready to make. All too often, when faced with a group of people seemingly doing what they appeared to be doing, I had made what I thought was a logical conclusion. Well, logic was a two-headed mistress, where one head was foul and breathed fire and the other resembled Richard Nixon.

I eventually entered the library and joined the queue, though I kept a sharp eye on my surroundings. My alertness paid off, as I immediately spotted a ninja next to me in line. Seeing as he was garbed in his traditional black ninja attire, it might not have been the greatest deduction in history, but it was all I had.

I nodded at the ninja. “Yo.”

He bowed politely. “Iron Polack-sama.”

I watched him for a moment, ready for the usual ‘kiai’ that preceded an attack, but he merely turned back to wait in line.

“What,” I eventually asked. “No attacking?”

“Not today, furry-one,” he replied. “Today is for voting. Tomorrow, we try to kill you again.”

“Huh.” I folded my arms. “So, what’s your name?”

“Steve, oh Myopic Master.”

“You know who you’re gonna vote for?”

“Of course.” Steve produced a Voter’s Pamphlet, with a puff of ninja smoke. “All necessary preparations have been made.” He opened the booklet and showed me the notes that covered the inside.

“Nice.” I rolled up my sleeve, exposing a rippling forearm with a dense mass of ball-point pen writing upon it. “I got my notes right here.”

“Most . . . impressive.” He gestured behind me. “Your turn.”

Sockbaby Part 4!

I had thought it to be a myth. A fantasy spun by nerds in between WoW raids. A fable, like Shangri-La or chaotic-good lawyers, yet it exists.

I give you: Sockbaby 4.

For those of you who haven't seen the original Sockbaby series, go here immediately: http://www.sockbaby.com/episodes.htm

For the rest of you, go watch the original series again and then go here: http://www.sockbaby.com/

"And you gotta say a wish into it, so it has a soul."

Indeed.

Cheers,
-Jason

More Texas!

So, Leigh and I will be winging our way to Arlington Texas for the Wizard World Comic Con this Thursday. We are looking forward to having a marvelous, ninja-free time.

However, in other news, I am saddened to announce that after their failed attempt on me, the ninjas went after Leigh's computer. His work machine was down for several days with a virus and he was unable to complete this Tuesday's page.

Yes - No New Page On Tuesday :(

If he can, he'll get a sketch or something up, but currently, he's doing a lot of reinstalling and swearing.

Look for the usual blogging (not on Friday though, as I'll be in Texas) throughout the week.

Cheers,
-Jason

I Choose To Blame Ninjas

As some of you may have noticed, I did not blog for most of the week due to illness. I am feeling much better now, thanks in part to all the people who sent me ‘get well soon’ messages. Or rather, to the person who sent me a ‘get well soon’ message (thanks, Mom). Though, technically, she did send it to ‘Susan’ so it may not have actually been for me.

Now, to the casual onlooker who happened to be spying on me via hi-tech equipment, it may have seemed that I merely had a good case of food poisoning. The lack of fever and copious quantities of ‘material’ that came out of me would seem to suggest that. However, where did the food poisoning come from?

I choose to blame ninjas. I did not eat anywhere new or unusual in the days preceding the attack, so I am forced to assume that the poisoning was deliberate. I have long waged war against the various ninja clans and this would not be their first attempt to destroy me (I refer specifically to the ‘Hangnail of ‘03’ and the ‘Flat-Tire of ’99 and ’00’ respectively).

So, be on your guard, ninjas, for your plot has only redoubled my determination to rid the world of your black pajama’d legions! Just don’t hit me in the stomach right now. Trust me, everyone would regret it.

Cheers,
-Jason

Jason is under the weather.

Hello folks! Jason is feeling under the weather at the moment, so he will not be gracing us with his normal razor sharp wit today, since he’s not honestly all that witty while he’s sleeping. Hopefully he’ll be feeling better soon and writing his stubby fingers to the bone.

-Leigh

Watchman!

Leigh sent me this the other day. There have been other Watchman trailers, but this one is almost three minutes long and has some great footage I hadn't seen before.

I must admit I'm getting excited about this movie. The Watchman was one of the books that got me into comics (along with The Dark Knight and the Elementals), so seeing it come to life is just a 'wow' moment.



Enjoy!

Cheers,
-Jason

Please Ignore the Following

Things are hopping around here at Wayfarer's Moon. Our minions are almost finished tunneling into the center of the earth and the nuclear torpedo is already in position. All we need to do now is tap in the UN . . . oh, yeah.

Please disregard the previous paragraph. We are in no way thinking of or attempting to hold the world hostage by blowing up the center of the earth. Really. That would be silly, I mean, we live here too. It's not like we have a secret moon base full of supermodels to retreat to.

. . .

Once again, please disregard the preceding paragraphs.

We are, however, getting ready for Wizard World Texas! Yep, in about two weeks, Leigh and I will be in sunny (I hope) Arlington for three days of comic goodness.

This will probably be our last con this year, so unless you want to invite us to your house, it'll be '09 before we're allowed out in public again(keeping our fingers crossed to get into the San Diego Comic Con).

Look for an update on Tuesday and the usual blogging for the rest of the week.

Cheers,
-Jason

ZOMBIES!

If you’re a WoW player, go now and become a zombie. I played it for all of 20 minutes today and had an absolute blast!

Here’s how it works: You get infected by a zombie and eventually die. You are then raised as a zombie and can infect others. You get a whole new tool bar of zombie related powers and anyone you infect will become a zombie as well.

You get to Mangle, a slow attack that makes people turn into zombies faster; Retch, a ranged attack to slow people down (‘cause you’re a traditional, slow zombie); and Beckoning Groan, which is used to call NPC zombies to your side. There are a couple others that I haven’t played with, but I’m sure they’re just as fun as the others.

This is amazing amounts of fun. It’s probably the cleverest holiday event ever done, so kudos to the Dev Team for coming up with and implementing it so well.

I know what I’m going to be doing with my Friday night . . .

Brains!
-Jason

Random Thought #212

What happens if Iron Man sneezes?

I happened to be watching some Cartoon Network (The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy) and they advertised an Iron Man figure with removable helmet. It then occurred to me that sneezing with the helmet on might be bad. Not only would it mess up your view screen, but it might also fire a missile. That would be bad if you hit a town or something, probably worse if you hit Thor or the Hulk.

By that measure, having a runny nose wouldn’t be quite as bad, as you probably wouldn’t accidentally kill anyone.

An itch would be just as bad, though in a completely different way. Then again, Tony Stark is a genius, so he probably installed some sort of auto-itching, viewport wiping system.

What if, dare I say it, you really, really had to, y’know, go?

Some things are probably best not thought about.

Cheers,
-Jason

For Best Results: Smite!

Whilst brushing my teeth the other day (something I do once a week even if I don’t need it) I happened across the directions on the back.

NOTE: Sorry, that was ‘ewww’ even for me. I do brush my teeth twice a day. Honestly. And floss. And use mouthwash. It’s showering I do once a week.

Anyway, I noticed a sentence in big red letters at the bottom of the directions. ‘For best results, squeeze the tube from the bottom and flatten as you go up.’

I wondered as I stood there, clad in my Spiderman Underoos, my teeth gleaming from my vigorous and dare I say, manly, brushing, ‘how else do you get the toothpaste out?’

Obviously there was a reason they included this in the directions. The marketers didn’t just look at the tube and say ‘Huh, this isn’t clear enough. Let’s add text!’ I’m honestly curious as to what people must have been doing to get the toothpaste out that the manufacturer felt it necessary to add a hint.

Did they discover that the average user was smashing the tube with a hammer and collecting the paste off the wall? Mayhap was a chainsaw being employed to tear the tube asunder, so the minty goodness inside could be reached? Was radiation involved? Gamma rays? A Rube Goldberg-ian contraption that involved a stuffed shark, three penguin feet, an eye patch and the bones of an Australopithecus?

NOTE: I am particularly pleased with myself as I spelled ‘Australopithecus’ correctly on the first try. Honest.

Granted, the directions may have been left over from the 1920’s, when toothpaste in a tube was ‘new’ and flappers were doing the Lindy Hop and things smelt of turnips, but still, how hard is it? They didn’t bother to inform the consumer to remove the cap and that seems to be the tricky part. They had faith, it seemed, that the cap would be removed, yet the user would then be unable to squeeze the tube.

It’s weird. Puzzling even.

Cheers,
-Jason

Kiwi

Well, it's Tuesday, which means a video!

I can't recall how I ran across this, but I thought it was a lot of fun. It kind of reminded me of 'A Wish For Wings That Work,' so of course I had to post it.



I like to think he flew forever . . .

Cheers,
-Jason

The 19th!

Hey, it's the 19th! You all know what that means!

Ummmm, actually, I have no idea what that means. I'm sure something happened on the 19th, but I don't know what. Some of you, perhaps, had birthdays (Happy B-Day!). Other than that, no clue.

Anyhow, Halloween is fast approaching. I have almost all of my costume assembled, now all I need is the left-hand of a enologist. Seriously. If anyone happens to have most of an enologist around, drop me a line. I'll even take a vintner . . .

Hah! Had you going. I'm going to be an extinct mollusk.

But, if there's a enologist or vinter on hand that you just need to get rid of, I'll totally pay for the shipping.

Look for an update tomorrow and the usual blogging later on in the week!

Cheers,
-Jason

The Adventures of Leigh and Jason: Part 3

Jason whipped of his glasses as his eyes adjusted to the dark store, and then put them back on because they were prescription. “What’s up?”

“Guy got robbed,” Leigh said absently, without looking up from his pad.

“Huh.” Jason looked around. He nudged an overturned rack with his toe and it made a ‘moo’ sound. “Got everything but the air freshener and the Mounds, eh?”

“Yes,” said the owner. “Your friend is doing a sketch, but I don’t think we need a writer.”

Jason shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

A team of mice moved across the floor. They were dragging a trebuchet. No one noticed.

“Y’know said Leigh. “He’s been doing kung-fu for forever. He could probably beat the snot out of them.”

“Really?” said the owner. “Maybe you could help me out after the sketch is done?”

“Depends,” said Jason. “Are they ninjas?”

The owner considered this. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, I only really fight ninjas.” Jason explained. “I get +3 against ‘em. They’re my ‘preferred enemy.’”

“Why?”

“A ninja pantsed him in high school,” Leigh chimed in.

Jason turned to his friend. “Must you tell everyone?”

Leigh nodded. “I must.” He rose and held out his pad. “Sketch’s done.”

The owner took and looked down. Then looked up again. And then looked down. After a few more volleys, he cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to complain, but this is a picture of a scantily clad woman-“

“Efl,” Leigh interrupted.

“Elf,” continued the owner. “With a spear.”

“I started on your description, but it was boring so I did the elf instead.”

Jason leaned over to get a look at the pad. “Nice.”

“Thanks.”

“Ummm, thanks?” said the owner.

“No thanks are necessary,” said Leigh, mainly so he could say 'thanks' too.

“We’re nerds,” added Jason. “It’s what we do.”

The duo waited for a moment, glancing around at the wrecked convenience store. “So,” said Leigh finally. “Could we get twenty on pump #2?” He held out a bill.

The owner took it without a word and punched something into the pad. “All set.”

A few minutes later, the silver Honda pulled out of the convenience store. The banjo continued its mournful song, until the Honda was out of sight.

Cheers,
-Jason

The Adventures of Leigh and Jason: Part 2

The man at the counter looked up from where he was cleaning up the glass from his smashed counter. “Are you here about the robbery?”

“Robbery?”

“Yeah.” The proprietor gestured at his store. Most of the racks were knocked over and the various goods had been swept from the shelves. Only a lone, pine-scented car freshener remained, impotent in its ‘stay fresh’ pouch, a box of Almond Joys. “We were hit about an hour ago. They took everything!”

“Except the pine-scented car freshener and the Almond Joys.”

“Uh, yeah," said the owner, "he said they were allergic.” He turned to dump a pan full of broken glass into the nearby trashcan. “So, are you here to help?”

Leigh paused, scratching at his ear with a car key he kept on hand for that very purpose. “I suppose I could do a sketch.”

“Well, that would help identify them,” said the owner.

“I’ll get my pad,” said Leigh. He returned 83-seconds later, settled onto a stool and took his pencil in hand. “Go ahead.”

“The first one was about 6 feet, with long blond hair and the second one was a bit shorter and had short, dark hair. They were wearing jeans, plaid shirts and baseball caps. Oh, and the blond one had a giant Johnny Cash tattoo on his back and the shorter one seemed very knowledgeable about the Monroe Doctrine."

Leigh raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “This’ll take a minute.” He bent over his sketch pad and aside from the occasional scream from out back, the store was silent.

“Are we getting gas or what?” came a new voice. Both Leigh and the owner looked up, to see a new figure in the doorway. He was wearing a Nike hoodie, with bits of toilet paper stuck to his freshly shaved face. “Oh, wait,” he said. He struck a pose, arms akimbo. “Jason Janicki,” he said. “Writer.”

Tomorrow: Part 3

The Adventures of Leigh and Jason: Part 1

A silver Honda headed south down the highway, the sun gleaming off the bits that weren’t covered in dust and grime. A bullet-riddled sign appeared, proclaiming ‘Gas – Food – Mimes – 5 miles.’ The silver Honda sped onward.

A small gas station/convenience store appeared on the horizon, dominated by a giant, neon turtle smoking a cigar. The silver Honda slowed and took the exit, barely missing a duck, and then drove up to the convenience store and stopped beside a pump.

The doors opened and in the distance, a lone banjo suddenly began plucking a mournful tune that sounded like ‘Shave and a Haircut.’ It was joined a few seconds later by a harmonica. The banjo music abruptly stopped, there was a gunshot, and the harmonica fell silent. The banjo began to play once again.

The doors opened and a pair of hiking boots descended from the passenger side, while a pair of engineer’s boots exited from the driver’s seat. A pair of stiletto heels did not exit from the trunk, though that would have been cool. The driver, a man of medium height with a thick beard and glasses walked to the entrance of the convenience store, ignoring the door that was lying on the ground beside it. He paused in the doorway, framed in the light of the noonday sun. “Leigh Kellogg,” he said. “Artist.”

Tomorrow: Part 2

Darth Vader in Love

This was sent to me by a good friend who shall remain nameless (Sean).

I may be mistaken, but this might be the same Peter Serafinowicz from Spaced and Sean of the Dead. Anyway, enjoy!



Cheers,
-Jason

Tri-Cities Wrap-Up

Well, both Leigh and I survived the Tri-Cities con. It was, all things considered, pretty good. This was the first year, so it was a little small, but the staff was exceptionally nice and really went out of their way to make us feel welcome. There was even a party afterwards, but Leigh and I had to miss it due to Leigh having relatives in town.

We did eat dinner with Jason Metcalf and his lovely wife, Laura and Randy 'Rantz' Kintz. Both Jason and Randy are great artists, as well as nice guys, and I urge you to click on their links to see their work. We had a nice dinner and discussed many, many con and art related things.

However, the con was not all fun and games. I did learn something. I am, surprisingly, not as young as I used to be. You see, I got up at 4:30 for the three-hour drive and didn't get home 'til about midnight. I was up for about 20-hours and holy crap was I tired. Back in my twenties, I could have done that with no problem, but now, in my (cough) thirties, my butt was thoroughly kicked.

Look for an update on Tuesday and more blogs throughout the week.

Cheers,
-Jason

Con!

Just a gentle reminder, Leigh and I will be at the Tri-Cities Comic Con Saturday. Please come on by if you happen to be in the area. Or in the continental United States. Every one else is excused.

Leigh will be doing sketches and I will be handing out bookmarks to everyone that comes by. They are rather lovely, if I do say so myself, and everyone needs bookmarks.

They go rather well with the comics we will be selling.

Have a great weekend!

Cheers,
-Jason

A Question of the Ages

I have another question for you, my three loyal readers (and that one guy who keeps sending me pictures of his feet). It is a question that has plagued me for many, many years and is the source of great friction amongst my friends and me.

The question is – ready for it – is it weird to eat cereal without milk?

I don’t. Rather, I don’t eat my cereal with milk. I eat it dry. Plain, even. I do like milk, but just separately. Frankly, the thought of putting milk on my cereal is just ‘ewww.’ I have literally done this my entire life. I once went on a camping trip when I was 4 or 5 and was sitting down to a nice bowl of Cheerios when the father of the family we went with decided to ‘help’ me out by pouring a bunch of milk on my cereal. At the time, I wasn’t quite capable of properly expressing myself concerning the situation, but if he did it today I would probably call him a ‘bastard.’

Actually, I wouldn’t. He was a very nice man. I would probably just push him in the lake later.

Anyhow, all my friends think this is weird. Leigh teases me about it with a certain frequency. I’ve only met ONE other person my whole life who did this.

So, is this weird? And do any of you out there in reader land do this as well?

NOTE: If there are enough of us we could form a support group. Or a PAC. Or some sort of sports team (we could call ourselves the Dry Demons or something).

Cheers,
-Jason

The Moon is Chewy!

Whilst watching television this past weekend, I happened to see a commercial for some new memory enhancing drug. The commercial basically starts with ‘People in Iceland lead longer, healthier lives’ and then the announcer goes on to talk about memory loss.

However, although he repeats the bit about people in Iceland several times, he never actually says they use the product (who's name escapes me). He’s basically saying ‘People in Iceland are healthier! We have this product!’ without establishing a link between the two.

Obviously, they’re trying to imply a link, but the legal department won’t actually let them come out and say there was a link, as someone might actually check that. So they just sort of ‘infer’ a link.

So, what you end up with is two completely separate statements. He could literally have said anything in the first part. The commercial could very well have gone ‘The moon is chewy! Buy our product!’

With that in mind, here are a few suggestions for alternate phrases to start the commercial with:

1. It’s not easy being green!
2. Pelvis!
3. It hurts when I pee!
4. Duckbill Platypuses are mammals!
5. Water is wet!
6. I’m allergic to pain!
7. Je regrete rien!
8. Where are my keys?
9. Hey! That does not belong in your nose, Mister!
10. You are getting sleepy!

Cheers,
-Jason

Physics!

Here is a really funny series I came across which discusses the physics of comic-books. It appears to be the highlights of a longer talk, but it's really great nonetheless.

The speaker has a great sense of humor and seems to really enjoy comics as much as physics.

Enjoy!







Cheers,
-Jason

Tri-Cities

Next Saturday, Leigh and I will be attending the Tri-Cities Comic Con! Presumably, Leigh will be sketching all day and I will be waiting in vain for someone to ask for a sentence.

We will, of course, be overjoyed to chat with anyone who happens to come by, so if you happen to be in the area and can make it, come on by! We'll be the two nerds at the table full of comic books.

On a further note, it was pointed out to me that you can actually Follow a blog now. There's a little blue button at the bottom left hand corner that says 'Follow' (oddly enough). You click that, select the Single Edge Studios Blog, hit 'Okay' and magic happens. You will then be notified whenever the blog is updated.

Feel free to Follow my blog. Really.

Stay tuned for a new page Tuesday and the usual bloggy goodness the rest of the week.

Cheers,
-Jason

‘Cause They’ll Eat Your Liver

I happened to be reminded of the phrase ‘and don’t let the bed-bugs bite’ today. It brought back fond childhood memories of my dad saying that when he tucked me in. Of course, he used to add ‘’cause they’ll eat your liver’ on the end.

And my mother wonders why I’m an insomniac who keeps a machete by the bed.

Now, in all seriousness, when I was a kid I was both terrified of and fascinated with bed bugs. I had this idea that they were these huge Great Dane-sized monstrosities that were quite capable of severing your leg and then running away with it, presumably to eat it in the darkness with ketchup.

I figured they were called bed-bugs because they would attack when they thought you were asleep, suggesting a malevolent intelligence as well. I really, really wanted to see one and if possible, make friends with it. Oh, the adventures we would have had, romping around the countryside, scaring the cattle and devouring large quantities of Captain Crunch.

Of course, I was a pragmatic child and thus I always kept a blue plastic bat near my bed just in case the bed bugs turned out to be mean. It is not a well known fact, but there are few forces in the universe capable of withstanding a determined five-year-old with a blue plastic bat.

NOTE: On one occasion I actually defeated both my older brothers with it. I still have it, in fact.

Anyhow, I never did get to see a bed bug and was vaguely disappointed to learn that they were quite small. Still, there’s always the chance that some mad scientist will grow them to the appropriate size and my wish will be fulfilled (and hopefully, humanity won’t be destroyed in the process).

Cheers,
-Jason

Your First Scream of the Day

This morning, after my bike ride, breakfast, ritual chicken-sacrifice, and shower, I decided to go ahead and shave.

I lathered up, mowed my face (more or less), and then splashed on a palm-full of aftershave. A few minutes later, after I finished running in a circle and screaming, I returned to the mirror to brush my hair and put the cap back on the aftershave.

It was then that I wondered: Why the hell do I do this? Shaving is painful enough, but why do I then insist on slathering blue alcohol on scraped and bleeding skin?

Well, in all honesty, it’s ‘cause my dad told me to. I remember well the day he taught me to shave, shortly after my sixth birthday. He handed me a can of Barbasol, a razor, and a bottle of Aqua Velva and said “You’ll figure it out.”

Oddly enough, that was the same thing he said to me when he explained sex.

So, why do we men slap alcohol on our faces after we just scraped it with a really thin piece of metal? I had no idea, so I went to that bastion of modern knowledge: Wikipedia.

Apparently, ‘It is said that the alcohol in the aftershave closes pores in the skin and prevents irritation ("razor burn").[‘

Huh. Well it is also said that if you throw a potato at a full moon, a werewolf loses its bunions. So, yeah. I am deeply suspicious that this is one of those things that is ‘just done.’ There may have been some reason in the past, when razors were large, ungainly things that doubled as chicken de-boners and were often used to fell trees, but I don’t know if it still applies.

Well, I’m going to keep doing it, even though I don’t know why. With my luck, I’ll stop doing it and they’ll discover that aftershave scares off the bed squid and then I’ll wake up with a face full of sucker-marks.

Which, of course, will make shaving even more painful.

Cheers,
-Jason

Diaphanous (No Really)

I never get to say ‘diaphanous.’ This is perhaps unsurprising, but it’s a perfectly good word that I never get to use. The word just rolls off the tongue, sort of like licking silk (which I don’t recommend).

NOTE: Diaphanous would be a really great name for an Elf. Or a Roman. A Roman-Elf?

It just seems like a shame, y’know? There are all these neat words in the English language that you just never hear. They’re either too specific, too obscure, or simply too hard to say.

‘Defenestration’ is another one. It is both specific and obscure, though relatively easy to say (rhymes with some other word that I can’t think of right now).

How about ‘morion?’ No, not ‘moron,’ ‘morion.’ You could, I guess, call someone a morion, but it would be both strange and nonsensical (and would thus score double points).

Here are a few more of my favorite, rarely used words:

Ossuary
Jugulate
Awl
Missive
Unguent
Rune
Prestidigitation
Septuagenarian
Orifice
Phantasmagoria
Salacious

So, your homework, should you choose to accept it, is to use one word this week that you never use. It doesn’t have to be fancy, just unusual and pleasing to your ear. I will try my best to work ‘diaphanous’ into a conversation, but I work mostly with men of the smelly, stout variety, so diaphanous might not be a good thing.

Cheers,
-Jason

I Am Murloc!

I first saw this many moons ago, before I was really sure what a Murloc was. However, thanks to my good friend Laura, I was once again reminded of this very cool machinima by Level 70 Tauren Chieftan 'I Am Murloc.'

Follow the link to enjoy!

http://media.worldofwarcraft.com/movies/video_loader/wow_video.htm?vid=iammurloc-en&dir=movies/iammurloc&img=iammurloc&rating=wow

Cheers,
-Jason

We’d also like to introduce our new colorist, Leah Eckstrom. Page 108 is her first page of work. We think it’s a great start!

-Leigh

Poop(ed)

Well, Leigh and I went to Bell-Con and the good news is we survived.

We were up at 5:30, got there at 9-ish and got home at around 8:00. All in all, it was a good con. It was small, but there was a pretty steady stream of people. Leigh got some nice sketches done and I gave away tons of bookmarks.

To our right was the brother and sister team of James and Lydia from Inanimate Sloth Bear Press, whom you might remember from my ECC blog. They were pleasant as usual. To our left was Jason Metcalf, a very talented artist from Seattle. Both Leigh and I talked to him and his wife quite a bit and they were very cool. The Bluewater Productions guys (who hosted the con) were cool as usual, though I didn't get to talk to them as much as I would have liked. Of course, there was also Beth and Maria from Famine Lands, who we carpooled with to the con (and are now our official 'con-buddies').

Overall, it was a good con.

Yet, I am still rather pooped, having not really slept on Friday and having to get up early today. I do have a couple stories for later, so stay tuned!

Cheers,
-Jason

Everything I Need I Learned From WoW: Part 3

Life Lesson #4: Large Craft Don’t Require Pilots or Crew
Subways, Boats, Zeppelins: what do these things have in common? That’s right, no crew needed. They can make transcontinental trips without any sort of navigation or direction of any kind. And they never break down. They just disappear for a while and then start up again. Makes you wonder what the pilots in the airplanes are really doing during the flight (my guess: PSP).

Life Lesson #5: Everything is Either Too Big or Too Small or Too Many
If you’re going to be ambushed by something, it will either be too small, meaning that you won’t get any XP from it or too large, meaning that you can’t defeat it by yourself. If you do happen to fight something that is level appropriate, chances are other, level appropriate stuff will join in and you’ll get creamed in stereo or greater (what would three channels be?). Rejoice when you get jumped by something you can kill in short order, get good XP for, and can get away from in good order.

Life Lesson #6: Everyone Can Dance
Perhaps the most important lesson in all of WoW is that everyone can dance. Be it a somewhat lewd rump smacking, a hat dance, or whatever it is that Orcs do, everyone can do it and should do it as often as possible. Just remember in between raids, killing stuff, being chased by stuff, and finding 6’ staves in tree snakes, to hit /dance every once in a while. You never know, you might even want to try it in RL.

Cheers,
-Jason

Everything I Need I Learned From WoW: Part 2

Life Lesson #2: Nature Hates You
Yep. Nature and everything in it hates you. All the bears, wolves, bunnies, squirrels, boars, deer, wombats, duck-billed platypuses, squid, lemmings, yaks, and the vultures, all of them hate you. Especially the vultures. Everything will attack you without remorse, generally in packs. They even attack Druids, who theoretically adore nature. Feel free to kill them, however they’re probably lower level than you and therefore aren’t worth it.

Life Lesson #3: Animals Are Larger on the Inside
As a corollary to #2, animals are much larger on the inside than they are on the outside (not unlike the Tardis). A tiny squirrel can swallow an entire battle-axe whole. I don’t know what is more amazing: the fact that a squirrel can apparently eat magical weapons whole and not die or the fact that they don’t ever seem to poop them out again. Where do they find these weapons, you may ask? Obviously from the bodies of adventurers they mauled (see Life Lesson #2).

Tomorrow: the Conclusion!

Everything I Need I Learned From WoW: Part 1

I’m not too proud to admit that I played a couple hours of WoW last weekend. I know I swore it off a couple months ago, but it’s like a dear, old friend. You’ve heard all the stories, know all the jokes, and understand where they’re coming from. It’s comfortable. Well, that and I really felt like stabbing something repeatedly while numbers popped up, which is not something that generally happens in real life, unless you happen to assault someone carrying a box of flashcards.

Anyway, I ran around, stabbing, bludgeoning, and hacking and not really paying all that much attention. WoW is nice like that. You can just sort of zone whilst committing grievous bodily harm. It was around level 22 while slaughtering bears and looking for copper nodes that I realized all the life lessons one needs are contained in WoW.

Life Lesson #1: Don’t kill things wantonly
This is a biggie. You just don’t wander around killing things. Sure, there’s a veritable fleet of Ghostpaw Howlers between you and the next flight path, but you shouldn’t just go to town on them. Why, you may ask? Because there’s a quest to kill them somewhere in the zone and it would be silly to kill a bunch of them and not get the XP and the reward. If you can kill it, you can bet your bottom dollar that someone wants them dead and will give you a couple hundred XP and a really nice axe.

Tomorrow: More Life Lessons

Thank you.

I’d like to take a moment and thank everyone who emailed or posted on the blog and the forums to lend support about the loss of my cat. I got a lot of good advice, as well as people sharing their own experiences which meant a lot to me and I really appreciate it. Many thanks to you all and I hope all your kitties are well.

-Leigh

Harry Potter #6

Well, it's on the way: the next film installment of the Harry Potter series!

Ummmm . . . stuff happens! It's actually been so long that I can't remember most of what happened in the book. I know Malfoy actually does something clever, but other than that, I can't really recall what the salient points were.

Guess I need to do some rereading!

Here is the link to the official trailor: http://www.warnerbros.com/?page=movies/#/page=movies&pid=f-c6632760/HARRY_POTTER_AND_THE_HALF-BLOOD_PRINCE&asset=065964/Harry_Potter_and_the_Half-Blood_Prince_-_Coming_To_Theaters_July_17_2009&type=video/

And, if you're brave enough, a link to a very special fan film. Warning: While completly safe for work, it might actually kill you. You have been warned.



Thanks to Laura for the above links!

Cheers,
-Jason

Bell-Con

Next Saturday, the 27th, Leigh and I will be attending Bell-Con!

If you can make it, we'll be delighted to talk to you about any topic you might like, including gall stones, stormtroopers, things beginning with the letter 'P' and of course, zombots.

Leigh will be sketching, of course, while I will once again be offering to write free sentences. No one has dared ask for one yet, but someone will eventually. Of course, when they do, I will go completely brain-dead and come up with something like 'Ham makes me itch.'

Anyhow, look for the usual update on Tuesdays and the randomness I call 'blogging' most of the week.

Cheers,
-Jason

Rude?

I was prepared to write a rant today, but after thinking it over, I was unsure if it was a real problem or just me being pissy.

You see, there is road construction going on near my apartment. One of the lanes is routinely blocked off and everyone gets to merge into the other. This being Washington, everyone pretty much lets everyone else in (one of the reasons I love it here). In California, for example, you generally have to discharge a firearm to even earn a glance from a driver and you more or less have to ‘merge aggressively,’ which is defined as ‘shoving your car into the tiniest gap you can and hoping the other guy doesn’t hit you.’ He will, of course, honk and swear at you, but that’s like saying ‘hi’ in Cali.

Anyway, every morning, I dutifully get into the necessary lane. However, someone will always zip past me in the ‘off’ lane, getting as far ahead as they can before they merge, thereby skipping past 20-odd cars. They merge ahead of me and I sit there, becoming irritated.

So, my question is, is this behavior rude or just smart? Obviously, the people that do this are moving ahead of me, so it is definitely a winning strategy. However, you are basically peeing on someone else’s cornflakes when you do it. Should I get irritated or just shrug it off?

If not, then I will go back to patiently singing (badly) along with the radio. If so, I will rehearse choice words to shout. Such as: ‘Your mother, though a fine, upstanding lady, prefers the affections of orcs rather than those of a gentleman of human descent!’ Or possibly: ‘The equipment on your main in WoW is laughably underpowered for his or her level!’

I may need to work on my swearing.

Curious,
-Jason

It’s Not Easy Being Dead: Part 2

The good guys actually manage to do it. They procure the +3 Backscratcher of Endless Reach and give it to the old crone (who promptly uses it, I might add) and they get their ‘Speak with Dead.’

However, in all honesty, what is a conversation with a dead guy really going to accomplish? Most of the time your response is going to be ‘AAAAAAAAAAAAGH!,’ especially if the poor bloke doesn’t realize he’s dead.

So, in keeping with the theme, here’s the Ten Most Common Responses from Speaking with the Dead (or TMCRSD).

1. AAAAAAAAAAGH! (we covered this)

2. I’m what?

3. Que? (They always presume the dead guy speaks their language).

4. I was the Tyrant of Lur, Destroyer of Marlune. My own mother called me Thuril the Bastard. Why would I tell you anything?

5. You defiled my grave to ask me what?

6. If I knew where the Searing Sandals of Sarkis were, why didn’t I use them to prevent my own death?

7. Are you eating right? And that armor! Have you cleaned it lately? Oh, and just look at that hair! You go and get a hair-cut before you talk to me again! And what about kids? Are you even seeing anyone? No? Well, with that hair and armor, I can see why! (In case you had to talk with your long-deceased mother).

8. You do realize you’re the 11th set of adventurers to ask me that?

9. No, no, no, you want Elgorath the Bloody! I’m Elgorath the Blogger!

10.You want the Wand of Arkterian? Why? All it does is cure heartburn. No, it doesn’t shoot lightning. Yes, I am sure. I know, I used it multiple times. Arkterian used to make these sausages . . . No, he wasn’t the Chief of the Ungorians, he was the Chef of the Ungorians. What, don’t look at me, you’re the ones who called me up, remember?

Cheers,
-Jason

It’s Not Easy Being Dead: Part 1

It is inevitable. At some point in fantasy and sci-fi shows, somebody has to talk to someone else who’s already dead. In the fantasy worlds, they just find an old guy or gal who can do it and presto (though, obviously, they have to quest for the Spoon I Dropped in the Desert Last Week and Need for a Tea Party on the Fifth first). In sci-fi universes, it’s usually some sort of gizmo that runs on the tears of orphans. In Farscape, they had the best of both worlds and just had Zhan(sp?) do it.

NOTE: Good going, Sci-Fi Channel. Farscape was one of the best sci-fi shows ever!

When speaking to the dead, however, there tends to be this assumption that the dead are somehow ‘wise.’ They ‘know’ things beyond the realm of men. They’ve ‘crossed over’ or some such and are thus, are privy to secrets unknowable by the living.

Why is that?

How come every twit who was an ignorant slob in life suddenly gets ‘the Code of Eternity’ when they die? Bob Dirt, the illiterate mud farmer, suddenly gets the Wisdom of the Ages when he kicks the bucket. Sure, when a Jedi Knight dies, they get the keys to the Big Book. They were relatively wise in life, it only seems fitting. But giving it to everyone, even those who probably couldn’t care less? That seems a bit much.

I would imagine there are a lot of conversations like this:

Keeper of All Knowledge: Lo, now that thou hast passed on, I grant thee the Secrets of the Universe!

Bob Dirt: What?

Keeper of All Knowledge: Thou art dead, and therefore all the Mysteries of Creation are thine!

Bob Dirt: What’re you goin’ on ‘bout?

Keeper of All Knowledge: You’re dead, all right? You’ve kicked the bucket! You’re worm food!

Bob Dirt: Well, I kinda figured that, what with bein’ run over by that harvester and all.

Keeper of All Knowledge: Great! We’re in agreement! Now that you’re dead, you can learn all of the secrets of the universe. They’re all in this big book over here. Go ahead, you earned it.

Bob Dirt: Does it got any pictures?

Keeper of All Knowledge: Pictures? Not really. Why? Wait, where are you going?

Bob Dirt: If it ain’t got no pictures, I ain’t interested. I’m gonna go find me a beer.

Keeper of All Knowledge: But, this book answers all the greatest questions mankind has!

Bob Dirt: Does it know where I can get me a beer?

Keeper of All Knowledge: No, not exactly.

Bob Dirt: Then I ain’t interested!

Tomorrow: Part 2 – Conversations with Dead People

Longboarding

I had no idea this even existed. The first part is rather dull, but wait 'till you get to the action.

I love the fact that they're no non-chalant. They even hand the camera back and forth.

Just, wow.



Tomorrow: Conversations with Dead People

Cheers,
-Jason

I Have No Idea

A busy week as usual for Wayfarer's Moon. There was penciling, inking, coloring, lettering, and writing going on.

However, for the three people that read this, I will warn you that Tuesday's comic may be late due to technical difficulties. I know, I know, but we haven't had them in a long time (we were starting to miss them).

Also, in two weeks, we will be attending Bell-Con! So, all of you in Northern Washington, please come by and see us!

Cheers,
-Jason

Nerds Unite!: Part 4

So, after a week's voting, we have an official winner for the name of a group of nerds. The results were compiled from Blog comments, a thread in the forum, and direct emailings to myself.

The voting is as follows:
Googleplex (or just 'plex): 2 votes
Array: 2 votes
Conclave: 2 votes
Con (in whatever form): 3 votes

And the winner is: Fellowship, with 4 votes!

There we have it, folks, we are now officially a Fellowship of Nerds.

I wil now begin to investigate how to get this into Wikipedia, so that the world may know of our stunning decision. Also feel free to argue the point. We're nerds, if it's one thing we do well, it's argue.

Cheers,
-Jason

Unemployment: Part 2

So the question is: what would a bunch of violent, unwashed psychopaths like orcs be good at? Assuming it doesn’t involve exterminating all that is good in the world.

Here then, are my top 5 jobs for unemployed orcs.

#5 Meter Maids
Yes, Meter Maids (or Parking Enforcement Officers, if you prefer). They would drive around in little carts, writing out tickets to unlawfully parked cars. The writing the ticket part could be troublesome, but they would get absolutely ZERO guff from the public.

#4 Driving Tester
If you can drive while a 200-pound orc snarls and glowers at you from the passenger seat, nothing you see on the road will ever faze you.

#3 School Crossing Guard
Honestly, there would never be a problem with people stopping at crosswalks if orcs were the crossing guards. Mainly because they would have spears and would be allowed to kill your car if they thought it necessary. Frankly, you would stop half a block away, just to be certain.

#2 Professional Hockey Players
They wear armor and helmets and charge around with sticks trying to hit a small puck while doing violent things to one another. It’s perfect. The orcs have every needed skill save for ice-skating and I’m willing to bet Sauron had a crack team of snow orcs out there somewhere. Granted, he didn’t have a crack team of ‘Defend Mount Doom’ guys, but there you go.


#1 Motivational Speaker
Do you have a group that needs motivating? Are they umenthused and lackluster? Well, just have an orc come in and scare the crap out of them!

Argth: Me Argth! Me kill tweny Men! Me kill you if you no (checks paper) sell more insurance! You do what paper say! You do it many times! Or Argth come back with club! You no want Argth to come back with club!

You! You look happy! You want Argth come back? You want Argth to eat Man flesh? You no do what paper say, Argth come back! Argth bring whole tribe! We have a luau!

And there you go! Tune in tomorrow for the results of the voting for the Nerd Naming!

Cheers,
-Jason

Unemployment: Part 1

I happened to be thinking about the Lord of the Rings the other day. This happens to me sometimes, for no readily apparent reason. I’ll be walking along and suddenly think ‘If Mordor had a fast food restaurant, what would they serve?”

NOTE: It would be called Sauron’s and it would serve Hobbit Burgers, Men-on-a-Stick, Orc Nuggets and Diet Dr. Pepper. Happy Meals would come with very small trebuchets.

I blame my parents.

Anyhow, it occurred to me that with the defeat of Sauron and the Beginning of the Age of Men, what would all the orcs do? There has to be a couple hundred thousand of them left and they can’t all get jobs at the DMV.

Obviously, they would need to interview first:

Interviewer: So now . . . Argth . . . is it?

Argth: Yah.

Interviewer: Great. Now, I just have to ask. What are you wearing around your neck?

Argth: Man skull.

Interviewer: Super. So then, what are your qualifications?

Argth: Me inna army long time. Me kill (slowly counts on fingers) 8 Men at white city. Me killed dem gud.

Interviewer: Ah. Is there anything else?

Argth: Me gots . . . er . . . people skill.

Interviewer: Excellent. And why do you want to work as a Kindergarten teacher?

Argth: Me likes kids. Dey tasty.

Tomorrow: Part 2

Crosswords and Spiders

This crossed my computer screen the other day and I thought it was amazingly funny and sad at the same time.



I also found this, which is just freakin' cool. Do not go here if you don't like spiders of the big, hairy kind. You can feed it bugs!

http://www.onemotion.com/flash/spider/

Tomorrow: Something about orcs!

Cheers,
-Jason

Refreshed

I'm no longer pooped. Last week was rather hectic at work, with it being the final week of a Sprint. A Sprint is something like a Dash, but completely unlike a Meander.

Actually, a Sprint is a term used to denote a period of time in which things are supposed to be accomplished. I think. Anyway, the Sprint took up a lot of time and I worked late most of the week. That combined with the shouting match last Wednesday night at 2am left me more or less drained.

However, I am happy to say that I am now refreshed and ready to do it all over again! Hooray!

Leigh was equally busy last week. He drew many, many pictures that will someday grace Wayfarer's Moon. I have watched him do this and I find the whole process rather arcane. He draws eight lines and it's a face. I draw eight lines and its some sort of mutant goat. Now, mutant goats are cool, but I was also shooting for a face.

I guess there's something to be said for that whole 'art degree and a lifetime of practice.'

Anyhow, more updates as usual this week. On Friday, I will reveal the results of the voting for the new 'group term' for nerds.

Cheers,
-Jason

Mayhap Murder

I work in a large cube-farm with offices lining the walls. I am fortunate in that I am in one of the wall offices with a window. I am not so fortunate that I share it with two other people, one of whom smells.

No, honestly, he doesn’t smell. He does mutter a lot though and he covets my mouse pad. God help him if he touches my mouse pad! It has a picture of a kitten on it. With a machine gun. Hence the coveting.

Okay, I’ll stop there. They’re both really good guys and there’s no coveting or smelling or inappropriate touching or muttering or holding of one’s pets for ransom. It is, all in all, a harmonious arrangement. Baking, of all things, sometimes happens.

NOTE: I have no idea if they read these. Let’s hope for a ‘no.’

However, one thing that kinda bugs me is when I pass one of them in the hall. We normally do this at least two or three times as day, as we all having meetings and stabbings to attend. The first pass of the day, we usually say ‘hi.’ The second pass, we generally nod. If it happens a third time, there are embarrassed smiles.

The fourth time though, we have no idea what to do. We just kinda avert our eyes and pretend not to notice each other, even though one of us has obviously just taken the last donut from the kitchen. It’s downright awkward with extra ‘awk.’

We have literally run out of socially acceptable ways to acknowledge each other’s presence. I fear that one day, we may pass a fifth time. I have no idea what will happen. Fists may fly. Tears may be shed. One of us might well scream and throw ourselves out the nearest window. This isn’t quite as bad as it sounds, as we are on the first floor, but still.

It’s weird. I can literally work 10 hours within arm’s reach of them and not notice they’re there. It’s like we all have our own private nerd cocoons. Yet passing them in the hall could someday result in murder. Or at least, a spilled Diet 7-Up.

Cheers,
-Jason

Epicenter of Infidelity

So, apparently Joe is a bastard. I’m a bit fuzzy on some of the details, but Sue yelled this very loudly across the parking lot at about 2 am this morning. She yelled other things too, but it was mostly an incoherent mass of swear words and screaming, sort of one long vowel movement.

Joe, needless to say, yelled back. He did call her a ‘harlot,’ so he gets points for at least shouting imaginative insults.

Joe and Sue, as you can well imagine, are not happy with each other. They yelled for a good five minutes, which is about four hours in ‘I wish I could sleep’ years. They even woke up my cat, which hid under the bed. This is impressive. Only the great ‘Gimmie my money!’ argument of ’07 caused my cat to hide quite so quickly.

For whatever reason, it seems like the parking lot directly across from my bedroom window is the epicenter of infidelity.

NOTE: Try saying epicenter of infidelity three times fast

I honestly don’t know why, unless I have some sort of strange, reverse superpower that makes people get into fights in the middle of the night, sort of a Siren’s Song of Stupidity. Anyway, I’m dead tired and my cat is sleeping on my shoulder, which makes it really hard to type (or move, for that matter). It one thing to keep me up, but when you tire a cat out, that’s saying something.

Cheers,
-Jason