Smells Like Monkeys In Here.

As I mentioned the other day, I was sick. I'm mostly better now (not factoring-in the residual mucus.. Sorry). I also mentioned something about hipster monkeys in that post too (I don't know... I think my brain was overheating or something).

No, wait! There was a point to the monkeys! The monkeys had meaning. They were a symbol to represent my writing (I submit my entire blogging history as "Exhibit A") or, at least, my return to writing. See? Makes more sense now, right?

Know what? Forget the monkeys! You can't expect to understand what's going on when there are monkeys in the room. That just never works out. What I mean by all this is, I think getting sick made me figure out why I haven't felt motivated to write these days.

You know when people say "life happened" and I couldn't keep up with this or that anymore? That's exactly right! And it's not always because you're so busy. That can happen but that wasn't the case for me. For me, I got stuck in a rut. Between bills, night school, boring office job, etc. I subconsciously began to wall myself off so as not to feel overwhelmed by what felt like the sheer meaningless in my existence. The problem with that was I made myself literally numb to everything going on around me. It's really hard to be creative when you go about your everyday routine just letting everything bounce off you and letting nothing stick. Know what I mean?

Now that I realized that, I think I can keep myself from falling into that trap again. Or not. I get distracted easily.

Speaking of distracted, I got my sense of smell back!

(Yeah, complete and abrupt change of topic. No warning. No clever segueing. Nothing! Blame the monkeys.)

While the cold helped me regain my sense of blogginess (I think), I lost my sense of smell. That was new. I've never had anything like that happen over a cold - or any other reason - before. At first, I was a little worried that it was going to be permanent (and possibly the lamest superhero origin story ever) but Dr. Google assured me it would be alright. Actually, it seemed this wasn't not all that uncommon when you got a cold so I just had to wait it out. Sure, everything I ate tasted bland without a functioning olfactory sense but, on the plus side, I kind of liked being able to walk through the city and not be suddenly have my nose bombarded with scent human waste (sorry again) - usually strategically scattered throughout the city by members of our homeless community.

That being said, I am now of the opinion that the tongue is woefully undeserving of its position as the representative of taste. All that guy can basically do is tell what's sweet, sour, bitter and salty. Without your olfactory sense, you might as well just give up on life enjoying your food.

At first, my sense of smell came back in bits and pieces. The first time I noticed anything had a scent was one day, when I was returning from lunch about two days into it. A coworker was waiting to get on the elevator and the scent of her coffee hit my olfactory senses hard. The best way I can describe it was like being colorblind and suddenly seeing a woman in a red dress move across the room. And the fact that it was coffee that ended up being the first thing I could smell in two days turned that woman in a red dress into a curvy bikini model in a skimpy, red two-piece.

Of course I meant a Japanese bikini model!

I really love coffee.

After that, it was gone again until something else got through. Fortunately, none of it was poop. After about five or six days, I'm happy to report that things are back to normal and coffee tastes great once again.

Lacy's Winning Rack.

Now that the holidays are over and life is back to normal (well, as normal as life gets, anyway) it's time for me to share the news.

I WON!!! WOOHOO!!!

Ahem! Excuse me. What I meant to say is, in a rare twist of fate, Lady Luck has smiled upon me and I am now the proud owner of an original piece of art, done by none other than Mynx, of Lizard Happy.

Isn't it lovely?

For those of you who don't remember when I posted about entering Mynx's Art for Art competition in November (I'm assuming you just forgot and not that you haven't actually read that post, because obviously you guys read all my posts and wait with bated breath for the next one... Shut up!)

This proves something I've always believed. A great rack can open many doors. Of course, I'm a guy and I had to draw said rack but, technically, that still makes them mine (Nope! That didn't come off as weird at all. Not. One. Bit.) Then again, as I explained before, the winner is selected by random draw, so it's not like Lacy's boobs actually had any part to play in my winning when you think about it. So, technically, she doesn't have a winning rack after all.

Alright! Alright! They're nice. Geez! Stick toons are so sensitive.

Anyway, all this aside, thanks a ton to Mynx. I actually picked it up from the post office on Christmas Eve so I'm counting this as a Christmas gift too. I already have a spot picked out to hang it after I get it framed and, of course, I'll be sharing the updated pic of that too.

The Art of the Stick.

You know how sometimes you can put your foot in your mouth and say you're going to do something because, at the time, you totally thought you could do it and you didn't see the harm in saying it for other people to know that particular thing is what you intended to do only you ended up not doing it and felt kinda bad because you went and drew attention to yourself?

*deep breath*

Well, that's what happened to me last year. You see, last year, blogger and artist extraordinaire, Mynx of Lizard Happy had her Art for Art giveaway. The idea was for you to submit a painting, drawing, photo, poem, or any other form of art. Heck! She even said a doodle on a napkin would be accepted. Then, she picks one randomly and that person wins one of her actual works of art. When I saw that, I foolishly commented on her post that I was tempted to give it a go... And I ended up chickening out and doing nothing. I mean, me? ART?! From... me? THE PRESSURE!!! All I have are my big-boobied stick-toons.

Anyway, this year she's having it again and again I said I'd probably... maybe... sorta consider submitting something (I know! I never learn). I guess part of the plan was to force myself to commit to doing it. Then time went by and again nothing happened.

Until today.

This time, only four days before the deadline to submit, I sucked it up, sat myself down, put mouse to mouse pad and got my tooning on. This year, my stick toons get artsy. BEHOLD!

Of  course Lacy's boobs in it! What were you expecting? Did you forget whose blog you stumbled onto?

For those of you who aren't acquainted with my stick minions history, old Steven up there is Diane's boyfriend and the first time I drew them (or any stick-toon, as a matter of fact) was when he had also gotten himself in trouble for paying too much attention Lacy's boobs (which is also why he now has to wear a mustache). Talk about never learning.

In The Meantime...

I'm back! Well, I'm sorta back. Truth is I'm back at Sprocket Ink. I was there last Tuesday too. Here... not so much. But I promise I'll be back here real soon and, hopefully, I'll have some good news to share, for a change.

In the meantime, I'll leave you with a little something I did over at Sprocket today. Boobs are involved (of course), but that's about the only appetizing thing this story has going for it. Well, that and the fact that I wrote it and it's funny (if I do say so myself).

You know what to do. Just follow the link (there was a link, but the site is gone now) and enjoy.

Maybe I'm Not A Writer.

Maybe I'm not a writer. Maybe my words won't go down in history somewhere, or be quoted, or even published anywhere outside the blogosphere. Maybe the best I can hope for is just to be retweeted every now and again. Maybe I'm not as good as I like to think I am sometimes.

Maybe I'll never write a book. I admit, the thought of even starting one daunts me. I wouldn't even know where to start. What would I write about anyway? Maybe the countless stories that float around in my head are doomed to remain locked up in there, never to see the light of day. Then again... maybe that's for the best.

Maybe blogging won't make me rich and famous one day. Maybe it will never be more than a hobby. A way for me to express myself in ways I could never truly articulate in the real world. A way to come out of that shell I've developed over the years and interact with people I share such a  strong connection with, I've somehow grown to consider so many these people - people I've never met in real life - "friends".

But so what? I never set out to be or do any of those things. When I first started all this, it wasn't to become famous. I never had dreams of having hundreds or thousands of followers. But I'm glad for every one I do have. I was a goof. A guy who used humor to hide his insecurities. One who declared his love for coffee, breasts and video games without fear of being judged. One who read and commented on other blogs, not so that people would notice me and follow me home, but because I enjoyed them. Maybe I'm still that guy. Yeah! I'm definitely still that guy.

So maybe I'm not really a writer. Or maybe I am. I'm not the one to judge that for now. Maybe all I am is just goof who can string a few sentences together and hopefully make someone other than myself smile. Even if it's just a little smile. But you know what? Maybe I'm okay with that. Maybe that's all I need to be right now.

A Group of Men Discover In Terror That Breasts Do Not Just Go Away On Their Own.

If there's one thing people know by now is that I'm fascinated by boobs. Okay, technically those are two things since they usually come in pairs, but let's not get distracted here...

...

...

...

Sorry kinda trailed off there for a minute. Now where was I? Right! Boobs, mammaries, ta-tas, breasts.

Bet you wish you had your own lovely assistant.

Yeah, those.

Whatever you call 'em, one thing's for sure, it isn't just me, we all love 'em.  C'mon! Admit it! You know you do. Well... most of us anyway.

This brings me to the reason for this post (why, no, it wasn't just to talk about boobs... oddly enough). It seems there is actually a group of people out there who find large boobs too distracting. Men, no less. And, as such, they decided to fire the carrier of said large boobs for the offence of bringing them to work every day. I won't say more here but this is the story I look into on my newest post on Sprocket Ink.

Click here to learn more.

Amazing!