Revision!

I decided to re-draw that random comic thing in this post, but in pen and stuff...and actually (somewhat) good...

Momma likes her some Potato chips with a capital "P"

So, my mother (whose blog may be viewed here) and I have decided to post corresponding blog posts about each other (and by "corresponding" I mean "posted at the same time").

As such, I will attempt to summarize my mother and my relationship with her in a series of various whimsies.

Whimsy #1: Comparative Psychological Analyses


If one were to compare my mother and I side by side, it would be pretty obvious that she was my mother. We have the same nose, the same eye shape, the same vocal tones, the same tendency to bitch when we don't get our way, roughly the same speech patterns.

However, there are differences in our personalities which come out when we interact.

I feel that the most obvious of these is her belief in a global concept of Justice (note the capital J), however she refuses to understand that Italy has "Iustitia" with a capital "I", whereas I support the existence of both "justice" and "iustitia", neither using capital letters.

Here is an example:

Note the AK-47 spear. You may have to click the image to read what the tv is saying

Whimsy #2: When attempt to shop together, we end up in Narnia


The other day we went to Wal*Mart to pick up some contrived thing, I don't remember what it was. I proceeded to follow my mother, I assumed she that she knew where she was going, because she was the one picking things up. About twenty minutes later we noticed that it was significantly colder, and many of the storegoers around us happened to be talking animals.

As it turned out, she was following me because I apparently knew where I was going, but I was following her. The result: Narnia.

Wimsy #3: The duo was very active even at an early age.


When I was very young, my mother and I obsessively played a game called "Banjo Kazooie".
During the summer our day consisted of me waking up at the crack of Dawn and going to wake my mother, who would inquire something along the lines of "What the fuck? What time is it?" To this I would respond, with an ironically straight face "Banjo Kazooie".

Instantaneously spellbound by the utterance of the two words which bound her comologically to the will of the Nintendo® Corporation, she would roll out of bed and lumber sleepily to the television, where I would have likely turned on the game already. One of us would begin playing while the other fetched a large glass bowl and a bag of barbecue potato chips. From dawn till dusk we would instruct an anthropomorphic bear and his tropical squackbox lady friend to perform various tasks inside the lair of a nice old evil witch who only wanted to steal the bear's sister's youth.

One day we actually ran out of potato chips...so what did we do? We paused the game, left all the lights on, possibly even left the refrigerator door open, hopped in the car and SPED to the store to buy more chips.

The following is what the note on the floor reads:

I was pretty much raised to be a nerd from birth.

I had planned for many more Whimsies, and may I'll add some later. Pictures will be added tomorrow.
In the meantime I leave you with this:
Your mother likely kept you from watching "bad shows" by forbidding it. Mine unknowingly kept me from doing so for a long ass time by saying she didn't give a rat's ass what I watched so long as I didn't act an ass in public. Win.

When I have children, they are GOING to practice hygiene or suffer on pain of death.

I was going to write a post about some of the ridiculousness that happened at the children's theatre camp I've been volunteering at for the past week, but instead I'm going to write a post complaining about how those stupid fucking sacks of pathogen and mucus gave me some horrible thing that has convinced me that my limbs and most of my face are going to fall off.

Last night I passed out pretty much right after I ate, which was...some really early hour...like six or seven in the evening. What seemed to my screaming body to be five minutes later, I awoke to a clock which obnoxiously read "1:55AM".

I knew something was wrong because I awoke fully clothed and I had left the temperature in the room higher from leaving for the day when I normally turn it down after coming home. This is how I came to the conclusion that I was probably sick. My dying immune system decided that I needed soup and juice more than anything on the planet.

I opted to follow the orders given to me by my body because if I didn't it would probably retaliate by making me keel over and die.

...So there I was...in the kitchen at 3 AM...making soup.

From there I decided I should watch FLCL, which generally makes all the problems in the world go away.

Then after that I watched "The Dark Crystal", and almost died of a nostalgia-exacerbated version of my illness (which by this point I suspected was some sort of Soul Ulcer).

After that I watched a few episodes of Southpark until I passed out. Over the course of these episodes I got to thinking the following:

"I should go outside and run. I'll make a playlist for running and everything. It'll be awesome. All my friends who run love it, and I love me some endorphins. If I go right now while it's pitch black outside nobody will see me!" ...but then I thought about what might happen if I went out to run in my current condition.

And then I woke up this morning half way wishing I had died overnight, so that I would not have to experience the horror of seeing my face in the mirror.

All I knew by the end of this horrible experience was that I needed an army of Garthim at any cost. That way I could keep any snot-nosed, pathogen-spewing germ-bags away from my normally resilient immune system.

Because children are cesspools of horrid germ-breeding that produce new, unidentified freak-strains of horribly warped diseases that science cannot conquer, and thus only the primeval sorceries of soup and juice can be of any use.

I've been inspired by what is really a very trivial thing. Conclusion: Make Google my bitch!

No...actually, I am not going to be the kind of blogger who goes out of his way to include sentences with/title his blogs with all the trends of the hour...imagine if I did that right now. The title of this post would be something like: *consults google trends* "Diana Ross contracted an acute sepsis from visiting a tiki barber while following Dolly Parton on her 'Blackbeard' tour."

I'm not going to lie, I kind of did want to do that just to see what happened, but I don't really think I could pull off that sort of thing.

The reason for this excitement is that while I was checking the "stats" tab, I noticed that I had a whole 2 reviews out of 23 total come from Germany...Now, given that Google exists, partnered with the internet, which also exists, this isn't really that big a deal, but something about the concept of being on a foreign computer screen excites me.

I know I'm making a huge deal out of nothing, my blog has twenty something views and at least 10 of them are me going back to proof read at various points. But still, let me have my fun.

This post is not very entertaining so far...so I'm going to draw something silly!

Silly! It has no point!

Where is haz mah hairbrush? :(

I can't find my hairbrush. My hair is wet. I have mere minutes before the damage is irreversible for the day unless I take ANOTHER shower. 

Also, despite having eaten mere hours ago, my stomach is assaulting me with violent, over dramatic hunger pangs rather than the normal rumbling. Quit with your theatrics, Stomach.

...Okay, so I had to steal yet ANOTHER brush from my Grandma's box of brushes. I'm not happy about this and I plan on returning this one once I find the other one. The only one I could find capable of taming my hair was a massive plank with plastic bristles sticking out of it. -__-

(Notice how Huge it is compared to my head. I am not used to this)

I have not slept at all....PHOTOGRAPHY ADVENTURE.

I lie patiently in wait. I have not slept, and I have no desire to. I've been up all night writing my previous post, and I have now decided that I'm going to wait for the other people in my house to leave for the weekend so I can skulk around the property taking pictures for this post. Why? Because I've become very invested in blogging as a hobby over the past few hours. Don't ask me why or how. I have no fucking idea.

So here I am...lying in wait...
I really don't understand how I'm still awake. I may have used the almighty power of facebook against myself, thus jinxing myself into eternal awake-ness.

(If you are interested Hyperbole and a Half, click that link. It's amazing and quite obviously a great source of inspiration to me)

***

Wow, surreal moment you guys. I actually just spent the morning with my family before they left for their trip. I'm so confused.

Anyway, they're about to leave, so I have set up camp outside. I have my camera, my mouse, preparing to set up netflix, possibly go get the speakers so I can hear whatever I have playing whilst skulking around the property. The sky is giving forboding signs that there will soon be rain, so I may have to limit my photography adventure to mostly inside...or at least move base camp inside.... the truck monster has been started...and.... they're gone! 

Let the magical photography adventure BEGIN.

This is the base camp. Notice the Southpark on the laptop, the mouse, and the dog stealing my chair. 

 This is the neighbor's yard, visible from our deck. Our foliage and boat frame it nicely, no?

This is Grandma's cat. She's tired from ninja jumping across the neighbor's yard not seconds ago.

This is our back garden....this post gets better I promise.

Junk car....

Other Junk Car...

This sycamore tree sprouted out of the dead face of my first hamster 11 years ago. It's fucking magical. 

I went inside to get some milk/shoes and I found my cat. She was hiding from the great outdoors inside the garage.

I lured her inside with the all powerful finger wiggle, which is the mighty Orange Cat's one weakness.

She's now confused, because I never just let her be inside the downstairs portion of the house, because the grandparents live there, and they are not housecat people. She is weary of her own existence.

She has been captured. As if to say "fuck this noise", she turns away from the camera in defiance.

Orange Cat and Grandma Cat now feast at the foodening hole (it's like a watering hole...but with food.)

This is the precious milk which I went inside to get, which I spilled on my camera...I couldn't really take a picture of my milk-soaked camera...because it was the camera I was using to take pictures, so I cleaned off the camera and photographed the milk instead.

Orange Cat finds that her legs are very delicious. She may spend hours, perhaps days on one leg, captivated by the deliciousness of the limb.

I made it my mission of the moment to stalk Orange Cat, it seemed like the perfect objective for my adventure. Here we see her leaving the wood-construct luxury of her upper queendom to be amongst the lower denizens of her domain.

She notices something about this planter, it has water in it. She is captivated. The water in her bowl is not good enough, because she says so, so she turns to collected hose/rainwater.

Alas, my operation has been discovered. We must retreat to the safety of the base camp, lest we be mauled to death by her queenly wrath....

The dog senses my distress at being discovered.

We have spotted Orange Cat once again. She has become displeased with the previous planter-reservoir, and has selected a new one.

She shifts her attention, realizing once again the deliciousness of her leg.

FOILED! I am discovered! Orange Cat has now joined the adventure party.

My noble party of stalwart warriors...Notice how the Dog strikes what appears to be a fierce battle pose from this angle, but is really just curious interest in the Orange Cat, who is fascinated by the tacky, metal butterfly.

KITTY BELLY

This dense grove of birds of paradise may seem innocent at first...but if we look closer, we can see that it is a hostile, dangerous place.

A constantly war-torn zone in which the fearsome, warrior natives battle the phasmiform beasts of the wild.

The noble palm tree...a species of flora not made to live in central Texas at all...and yet it's been here since we moved here. My Grandma has gotten it to grow that tall, and the leaves for the summer are coming in...it lives to be abominate another year...

That's where I live. Second floor of the house...that's where it's at...yo...

Orange cat senses a disturbance in the force.

Preparing to initiate ninja jump....

I discovered that the "sport" mode on my camera is much better for capturing the cats in mid bound....that being said, photography is not a usual hobby of mine, so this was the only good shot I ended up getting.

THE ADVENTURERS: WHERE ARE THEY NOW?

The Dog strives to be the center of attention. Believing every word said in a slightly positive tone to be a call for her presence, and instantly flipping on her back to show that she's willing to please.

Orange Cat sits lazily in her garden, daring any evil to invade her domain.

....and once again my blog ends with me how to end it...I should probably fix that. Anyway, there's my photography adventure. This is what happens when I don't sleep and somehow have massive amounts of energy.