10/14/10: Way to shame me into updating again by commenting, people who comment! (Seriously, though, hi, welcome, and pull up one of the splintery old orange crates that we use for seating 'round these parts seein' as we can't afford no fancy chairs.)

The rules from
here still apply.

Monday, December 31, 2007

More And More

"Oh lord," Prudence groaned.

Jill laughed delightedly as she held her prize aloft. "Ohhh yes, this little guy is a real gem... and won't Uncle Henry just love him?" She laughed again at the expression on her sister's face.

"That," Pru said deliberately, "is the ugliest lawn gnome in the long and ugly history of yard decór."

"Which is why Uncle Henry will love him."

"Ugh," Pru groaned again.

Jill set the gnome down on the table next to the box it had been packed in -- packed with rather a lot of care, Pru thought, seeing as it would've been a blessing to humanity if the thing had shattered in transit. Its chipped plaster hat and clothing were all the same delicate shade of puke-green, and the garishly painted face leered from behind sculpted tangles of beard. One hand was raised in what looked like a drunken salute. The other was behind the gnome's back, as though he was hiding something back there, even though if you turned him around you could see that the hand was empty. Not that Pru would touch him to turn him around; that expression of his looked a little too knowing for her.

"Doesn't he look just evil?" Jill asked, unconsciously echoing Prudence's thought. "Like a tiny little serial killer."

Now it was Pru's turn to laugh. "Well, when you put it that way, it makes it seem like such a lovely gift for Henry," she teased.

Jill grinned as she picked up the gnome and placed it back in the box. "He's got so damn many of these already, it's hard to keep from duplicating one of his old ones unless you really look for something strange. Thus, Chuckles the Deadly Lawn Ornament."

"He just keeps collecting more and more gnomes the last few years, doesn't he?" Prudence mused. "Why does he even need so many? I mean, most of them just sit in the garage and gather dust anyway."

"Last time I asked, he said he needed them close to 'keep an eye on them,'" Jill replied, one eyebrow cocked ironically. "I'd say our dear uncle was going loopy in his old age, except he's always been that way."

"Which is why you two get along so well," Pru grinned.

Sure, I already did this one, but if Brookins can recycle then so can I. It is up to you whether Uncle Henry is the same guy as in the earlier post! I could go either way.

Also, yes, I did get all the character names by listening to A Shoggoth On The Roof while I worked; why do you ask?

Meta: Prettification.

I got bored of the old gray-blue layout, so I changed all the colors and a bit of the HTML. (Did you know you can add color variables to your template HTML and then they'll show up in the WYSIWYG color-picker? I didn't!)

That is all.

Thursday, December 27, 2007

Little Pluggers

"Goddamn little perverts!" Jeannie cried, hurling her tin of clothespins at the fleeing boys. It bounced off the leg of the youngest, who was trailing the pack, but the effort garnered nothing but a brief "ow!" for her troubles. Little bugger didn't even stumble, and all four children easily made their giggling escape. The fluttering bit of blue cloth in the grasp of the eldest was all too recognizable.

Jeannie sighed loudly, casting a jaundiced eye in the direction of the Martin house next door. All four of their boys were utter hellspawn, pure and simple. This was the second time this month that one of her bras had gone missing from her backyard clothesline, and even though she hadn't caught them at it till just now, she'd still known well enough who the little culprits were. Filthy monsters. Didn't they have an older sister to spy on?

Grumbling, Jeannie bent to pick up the basket of fresh laundry she'd dropped when she saw the boys at her clothesline, grateful at least that none of it had tumbled out to the ground. Then she remembered that the clothespins were still over by the hedge where she'd managed to peg one of the Martin spawn.

"And I'll do worse than that if I catch him again," she muttered as she began gathering up scattered clothespins. "Nothing like a good old-fashioned thirty-fifth-trimester abortion to brighten up the day."

I figure since I already did this from the one angle, I'd go ahead and try it from the other.

Damned little perverted children. Brookins and/or Fulcher, you are a filthy, filthy man and/or men.

Friday, December 21, 2007

Four Legs

Brad glanced up as his roommate wandered vaguely through the living room. "Finally woke up, huh?"

"Mnuh," Charlie replied vaguely. "Been up for a while, actually. I was just thinkin'."

"Uh oh."

Charlie fwumphed down onto the other end of the couch. "Yeah, see, that book." He pointed at the copy of Animal Farm in Brad's hands. "So the animals take over 'cause they're mad at the humans enslaving them. Right?"

"Well, gee, thanks for spoiling it for me," Brad deadpanned.

"The animals do all the work, and they still have to sleep in cold barns and eat hay and whatever else." Charlie nodded, as though agreeing with himself, then raised a finger. "But what if it happened today?"

Brad blinked. "What if farm animals, having turned out to actually be sentient and capable of holding a grudge in the first place, revolt against humankind... today?"

"Mmmyep. Just think how much more screwed we'd be just because of 'Old Yeller'."

"Huh." Brad closed the book and tilted his head. "Dog befriends family, dog defends family, dog gets shot for his trouble. You do have something there."

Charlie started ticking off on his fingers. "Babe: pig buys into the establishment and spends his life slavishly imitating his human masters. Lassie: dog spends its life getting the same damn kid out of every well in the tri-county area. Mister Ed: horse has nothing to do except stand around talking to some loser. We are not in good standing with the animal kingdom, my friend."

Brad laughed. "I still think you're kind of exaggerating the problem here, man."

"Two words," Charlie answered, grinning wickedly. "Air Bud."

"...point taken," Brad replied.

My immediate response on viewing today's Pluggers was something along the lines of "So, the animals... prefer movies starring... animals. Gotcha. Next startling revelation, please." Then I thought of the Orwell angle.

And no, I never had to read Animal Farm for school. I'm just a nerd.

Monday, December 17, 2007

Meta: Yes.

Soon, I think. Trying to fight the backlog was a huge mistake, so that's out; all the Pluggers comics I missed will simply have to remain forever un-ficced, at least by me. (Is ficced a word?) I think at least one post a week to start, whenever an installment strikes me. And we'll see what's what.

Answers to your potential questions:

The capybara is the world's largest living rodent. It is also known as the "water hog" due to its propensity for living in and around water, and its resemblance to a hog. It is a sadly underappreciated creature, and if you're going to draw a fictionalized animal-creature-thing version of yourself, there are far worse choices.

I sadly do not have a huge, slightly-off-perspective flatscreen monitor, nor a wireless keyboard with strangely misshapen keys. However, I will graciously accept donations of either.

I do indeed own this hat. Although to be honest, I don't generally wear it while using the computer.

And the change of blogging moniker to Blog Post Frank? Well, seein' as Google told me that nobody else had started using it yet... why not?