Here are some things I drew a while ago but never posted. They have no real relevance to anything.
Turning the humdrum of everyday life into excitement. Or not.
October 19, 2011
October 14, 2011
hm
I have a lot better stuff to post but I don't really feel like scanning it right now so here are some old things you may or may not have seen before. The viking playing soccer has to do with school. Yep.
And here is something I wrote a while ago that is kind of meh and not in my typical style (not that anyone knows what that means). It's kind of a space filler. Enjoy it to the best of your abilities.
The stereotypical neurotic partner calls too often. He or she will leave you a voicemail every hour just to “make sure you’re safe”. Follow you around at parties, must know the time you’ll be back, down to the second, if you have a friend of the opposite sex, you’re cheating…and when you go out with the guys or gals, there “is” a stripper involved and he/she just KNOWS it. Sometimes, they will go through your junk, and assign false meaning to that card or t-shirt you still have from your ex, or in this case, cookie crumbs.
Max was unaware of his ailment. Had he any idea the sort of boyfriend he was, things might have ended differently. The day he went through my purse was the last straw.
Amongst the spilled Tic Tacs, tampons, and empty bottles of hand sanitizer littered in the pockets, rested a fourth of an Oreo, lonely, neglected, cream-less. I had never liked sweets, so it was an unusual thing to find in my purse. But Max, searching like a police dog with a purpose, discovered it.
“What the hell is this?” He demanded.
I stared blankly and blinked three times.
“Uh…An old Oreo?”
“You don’t like Oreos.”
“So?”
“Where did you get it?”
“Does it even matter?”
I frowned.
“You’re hiding something.”
“No.”
“You are.”
“I’m really not…”
Max burst into tears. The big git was overemotional and clingy.
“Hey, Max. Need a tampon?” I laughed. He did not find it funny.
“You think you’re so clever, Francine? Well I know what this is. There’s another man isn’t there? Why the hell else would you have this?”
He held up the Oreo bit, crumbling at the edges, and gave me an accusatory stare.
“Dude. Chill.”
Needless to say, we were over.
And here is something I wrote a while ago that is kind of meh and not in my typical style (not that anyone knows what that means). It's kind of a space filler. Enjoy it to the best of your abilities.
The stereotypical neurotic partner calls too often. He or she will leave you a voicemail every hour just to “make sure you’re safe”. Follow you around at parties, must know the time you’ll be back, down to the second, if you have a friend of the opposite sex, you’re cheating…and when you go out with the guys or gals, there “is” a stripper involved and he/she just KNOWS it. Sometimes, they will go through your junk, and assign false meaning to that card or t-shirt you still have from your ex, or in this case, cookie crumbs.
Max was unaware of his ailment. Had he any idea the sort of boyfriend he was, things might have ended differently. The day he went through my purse was the last straw.
Amongst the spilled Tic Tacs, tampons, and empty bottles of hand sanitizer littered in the pockets, rested a fourth of an Oreo, lonely, neglected, cream-less. I had never liked sweets, so it was an unusual thing to find in my purse. But Max, searching like a police dog with a purpose, discovered it.
“What the hell is this?” He demanded.
I stared blankly and blinked three times.
“Uh…An old Oreo?”
“You don’t like Oreos.”
“So?”
“Where did you get it?”
“Does it even matter?”
I frowned.
“You’re hiding something.”
“No.”
“You are.”
“I’m really not…”
Max burst into tears. The big git was overemotional and clingy.
“Hey, Max. Need a tampon?” I laughed. He did not find it funny.
“You think you’re so clever, Francine? Well I know what this is. There’s another man isn’t there? Why the hell else would you have this?”
He held up the Oreo bit, crumbling at the edges, and gave me an accusatory stare.
“Dude. Chill.”
Needless to say, we were over.
October 6, 2011
Oh hm.
I do a lot of "creative writing"...but I've been doing it very differently lately...incorporating pictures into my pieces and whatnot. I might post them to be read. I might not. It makes me nervous.
So here are some other nice things.
So here are some other nice things.
This here is a monster I drew.
I like him a lot. He talks in numbers.
He is part of the story I am writing.
I've found this drawing requires some explanation. After watching the first Harry Potter movie, I was absolutely enamored with all things "HP". I'd read some of the books, and I wanted to do everything in my measly twelve year old powers to get closer to my one true love...
NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM.
THAT is a REAL MAN for you.
*WHISPER* Matthew Lewis will you marry me...?
Anyway, remember the scene where Hagrid takes Harry & Co. into the Forbidden Forest? Yeah. There is a dead unicorn in there. Hagrid sticks his hand in it's blood and is all *SNIIIFFF* UNEECURN BLUUUUD. Young me thought shampoo looked like it. I believe I used Pantene then.
Even though the shampoo I use now is a different color...The whole shiny bit is still similar.
This is a monster. Self-explanatory.
I drew this comic in about two minutes for my soccer buddy.
October 1, 2011
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