More Information from Airports

What you need to know offhand:

1. I'm at the airport
2. I'm wearing a tie that cost me $3.00
3. It is between 4:30 and 5:00 a.m. on Christmas eve
4. etc

Now, I was here (the same airport) three whole days ago, but I did not get to fly home. This is because of a Mistake (or, perhaps, a series of smaller mistakes, the likes of which don't need to be Capitalized). I overslept for a flight that was scheduled to leave at 7:45 on the Monday of this week. I woke up in my bed at 6:26 a.m. that day in front of my computer in a room in which all the lights were still on. I had not planned on falling asleep that night. My reasoning was that, were I to leave for the airport at the time I'd set for myself [5:15 (the math on this is: flight at 7:45 - 1h for security/bag-checking, - 1h to get to the airport via public transportation - 0.5h just-in-case-time = 5:15)] the least-unpleasant approach would be to not fall asleep at all in the first place. The math on this one: staying up until 4 a.m. is almost never terrible, but waking up at 5:15 a.m. - no matter when one falls asleep - is almost always awful.

So, why did I get into bed at all? Because it was really cold, and I have an electric blanket, and I am equally capable of operating a computer in bed as I am at a desk. But then the unthinkable happened, and I fell asleep. In bed.

Now, I was aware of and prepared of this possibility - I had set 3 alarms: one for 4:45, one for 5:00, and one for 5:15. All my bags were packed. I was wearing flight clothes. I was all set. Except that none of these alarms woke me up, and I regained consciousness at 6:26 a.m.

Listen: I can say, with some degree of certainty, that no human has ever so effectively exploded out of a house with a 40-pound roller-board in tow and so gracelessly rocketed down sidewalks that were all in various states (ranging from passable to intolerable) of snow-covered. I walked into the airport terminal at no later than 7:12 (the math on this, just in case you're not doing it in your head: 46 minutes from my bed to the terminal. In snow. From a dead sleep. That's Olympian. But it wasn't enough. It would be another 18 minutes before I reached the front of the baggage drop-off line, at which point I was informed that I was too late the check a bag, and also too late to be on the plane regardless. Sorry. Please go to the line on the right for assistance.

Ok: to the best of my memory I have never, while flying alone, missed a flight. Ever. In over a decade of solo air travel. So, I don't think I'm exaggerating when I liken this experience to Man being cast out of the Garden of Eden. While once I had lived in a perfect world, a world where I always got to where I was going, rarely considering any sort of alternative, a world where airline employees treated me with not-contempt, and where every boarding pass was used and no paper was wasted., now I lived in a wasteland. A Completely Ruined Hellhole.

Oh, the stinking, unbearable shame in having to make my way to the long line for the idiot-moron-degenerates of air travel. The line that, in addition to serving innocent souls whose flights had been canceled also existed for monsters like me who'd missed their flights, and - worst of all - the sort of slug-brained beings who were incapable of checking in for their flights before reaching the airport. Who are these people who don't check-in early? There was a family with about 9 huge bags spread over two huge carts, all dressed in holiday sweaters, forming an impassable human wall within the line. Despite their plans to travel to Bermuda, a trip I can only assume they had planned in advance, they did not bother to check in online, where checked baggage is cheaper and the whole process is less painful. Also, what were they even doing at the counter for domestic flights? Last time I checked (just now, because I wasn't sure) Bermuda is not part of the United States, not even a little bit. They got to go to Bermuda, and, when I got toe the front of the line, was told that I got to go to Cincinnati. In 3 days' time. At 5 in the morning.

So Here I am, finally. And here's what the line for security looked like from somewhere near the middle:


Anyway, Merry Christmas, you'll probably hear from me again before the year is out.

Broadcasting from Home #2

This took longer to get together than I expected. Luckily I never committed to an update schedule.



The end of this story is that my video game console of choice broke two days after I drew this.

P.S. You know about Maslow, right?

Broadcasting from Home #1

Hey. I decided to do a comic for a little while. It's autobiographical, but try to find a better reason than that to dislike it. I hope to do a few, but we all know how I operate.

The real joke here is that Panel 3 has happened at least two more times.

O.H.I.O. (Oh Hey, In Ohio)

Hello again. Attentive readers are no doubt aware that it is occasionally customary for me to report on the happenings in the great state of Ohio when those happenings are available to me first-hand. I don’t suppose it would be right ignore tradition on this trip (we all know how I love traditions), but let me forewarn you: these facts will be hurled into the internet in no particular order and without any real attention to detail. This slapdash-edness can be blamed on both my refusal to imbue such unremarkable fare with a gripping narrative structure, and also on the three four Cuba Libres that have spent the last hour marching across my blood-brain barrier. “Whatever dude,” as the old saying goes.

First: a house down the street from my house was on fire for a little while a couple days ago. The consensus is that this is because lightning was striking everything in the immediate area like crazy, causing a ruckus and upsetting my family's cats (more on them later, probably). My mom and I, not being above the basic human instinct to see and breathe the problems of others free and clear of consequence or attacks of conscience, took a walk down the block to see what we could see.

here smoke can be seen coming from the house

Here is a firefighter


My house (not on fire)

WHAT ELSE HAPPENED?

I tried a Fast Food Restaurant for the First Time. For some people this is an unremarkable accomplishment, but some people spend all their time growing out their armpit hair in front of the TV instead of living life (Disclaimer: I also do this, but far less intentionally). I will not tell you the fast food chain I tried for the first time - instead you will find a picture of the item I consumed and you, the astute reader, will guess. This is how fun happens.


IN OTHER NEWS: I just got tired of writing this blog post! All other worthwhile information can be found below, condensed into bullet points for my convenience.

Additional Occurrences

• Got a new suit
• Drew This
• Pictures of Cats

Anyway, I'll be gone in nine hours.

It Snowed Yesterday

Which means, among other things, that figure C's relevance is in full effect.

What kind of Tuesday is Today?

Listen: it is not easy to be me, ever. Today, however, it is especially not easy to be me, and here’s why: that PC from those smug commercials has just released a book that does what this blog is supposed to do, only it does it more eloquently, in print, and to a greater degree than I do. God damn him.

He's even interested in exactly the same things I am, the joke is that I have already heard this item.

Oh well, right? At least I’ve got one thing he doesn’t: drawings of robots.

Is it Time for Another Drawing of a Robot?

There is only one answer to such a question right or wrong.



Anyway, goodnight.

FY(tC)

Listen: I have backed myself into a hell of a corner on this one. Here - I’ll explain.

About fifteen minutes ago the current members of The Place, myself included, were gathered around the kitchen table eating items from Starbucks that had been brought home for us. For whatever reason, one member of the gathering mentioned that she’d spent the better part of the day reading the webcomic XKCD, which elicited apathetic responses from two people seated at the table, and a roll of the eyes from me. I know that if this were a blog that any real number of people read I’d draw some serious ire for feeling negatively about XKCD, but my humble status being what it is, I will be frank: that comic is not my thing. It’s not that I don’t get it (it’s really important that I stress that fact to you over and over again so you realize that I am not dumb, not dumb at all), it’s that I feel, when reading it, as though the author is standing right behind me giggling and smirking to himself at how clever he is. And that bugs me, even though it’s probably not the case.

This is all backstory for what’s really important: in a moment of impulsive/misguided ambition and resentment, fueled by sugary pastries and fancy orange juice, I exclaimed that I would make my own webcomic “about stick figures and graphs,” and that it would be called “Fuck Y’all” and that “everyone will love it.”

Listen: for the most part, I am a man of my word, at least for a day or two. Because of this, you 3 readers are welcome to tune in tomorrow when the first ever strip of Fuck Y’all (the Comic) will premiere right here to the kind of overwhelming praise and sympathy the likes of which hasn’t been seen since that other comic I did.

A Brief and Triumphant Return pt 4

I've either come a long way or no way at all

P.S. I have one last thing.

A Brief and Triumphant Return pt 3

Etc



[Special Thanks to Muffin MacGuffin for his relentless approval]

A Brief and Triumphant Return pt 2

Here is another comic, it is different from the one posted yesterday in that it is almost all words. Also it has a few colors. This is by no means an indication that it is any better, because it almost certainly is not.

Information about an Earthquake

Listen: an Earthquake killed maybe ten thousand people in China yesterday. Ten Fucking Thousand People. Do you get that? That is so many people to god damn die in an earthquake. That is Insane.

What Awful Thing Am I About To Subject You To?

Looks like That Guy and I did a thing of making a television show, again. I hate to be a person who makes the same mistake twice, but here I am. Regardless, feel free to watch it, it should appear below these words. It's called The Lousy Hour, and I promise that it lives up to its name in at least one capacity.

Here is Why I Can't Abide Micro-Blogging

Listen: I’m not about to pretend to be on the cutting edge of anything these days, because keeping on top of the internet is like trying to build a sandcastle in a tsunami, so when micro-blogging started existing (and eventually became more prevalent) I really didn’t take much notice for a number of reasons:

1. I am not a guy with an enormous number of internet-only contacts, and even fewer internet-savvy-internet-only contacts
2. I am not that interesting
3. I don’t have the kind of self-worth that allows for me to write down every small thing I have done in a day with the expectation that the world gives a god damn about it
4. I have a decent attention span and a pretty firm grasp on the written language, and as such have graduated to paragraph form (most of the time) for things I feel worth writing and sharing
5. I am not a 12 year-old

Ok so, issue resolved, right? No, not right. For awhile the existence of sites like twitter were of no concern to me - I did not use them, and I did not know anybody dumb enough to hassle me to use them, and so we went along respectfully ignoring one another. But then Facebook, a site in a sort of steady state of information-overload-collapse, started integrating with these micro-blogging sons of bitches. Before you get on my case about anything, I’m well aware that the status-update field on Facebook was oft-abused before this integration, and that people were already capable of using this feature for dumb purposes at essentially any moment with mobile integration, but the truth of the matter is that this was usually too complicated for dumb people to set up, so it wasn’t a problem.

Now, however, it is kind of a problem. Anytime I sign onto the aforementioned social networking site I am faced with a fair number of people twittering about their terrible minutia. I realize that I am not forced to read this, and that I can adjust settings in order to cut down on this garbage, but what really bothers me is not that this technology exists (I am sure there are valid uses for it somewhere, somehow) it’s that people use it for the dumbest reasons possible. The fact that some of the people I am friends with are the perpetrators of such internet bullshit calls into question the decisions I’ve made in terms of the company I keep (digital or otherwise) becuase it is not easy to get onto my reasonably short list of contacts.

Here, let’s look at some of the information I’ve been given in the last few days (despite not requesting it) about people I kind of know:

Kelly is twittering: finally rolling out of bed... hooray, 12 hours of sleep!
11:50am

Jon is twittering: Cereal supplies running low. Next at-work breakfast: back to Pop Tarts.
12:13pm
Jon is twittering: BTW, I think I've finally found the correct size boxer briefs from H&M, which took longer than you'd think.
12:52pm

Robert is twittering: Quick shower and off to work.
3:14pm

This isn’t news. This isn’t interesting. This isn’t Funny. This isn’t anything.

Here, for the sake of argument, is how I might do a micro-blog post about what I'm currently up to:

Miles is Twittering: I can't hang out with my friends right now because they're watching Desperate Housewives in the other room and I am the last man on earth with a beating heart and honest Standards.

Was that a lot of fun? Did you enjoy reading a sentence about exactly what situation I found myself in? You better not have, because if that is the case then you have not been paying attention.

Please Stop it.
You’re Welcome
Now you Know.

[edit/p.s.]

Weirdly enough (and I hate to be the guy who tells you this) Penny Arcade and I are really on the same wavelength as far as this matter is concerned.

Do You Think it is Okay to Like Brian Eno?

And I'm not talking about the Brian Eno that produces Talking Heads records and sometimes makes an album about taking a mountain by strategy, no no. I'm talking about the Brian Eno that just sort of gets in front of some kind of music making device like a simple piano or control board and makes background noise for a body to listen to when that body is having conniptions. Because I'm not sure it's okay to like this Brian Eno, but the fact of the matter is that I really, really do when the Time Calls For It.

Listen: as a person who is pretty prone to panicking and worrying about things that don't make an enormous amount of sense I can tell you that the sensation is god awful at best. One time, about nineteen months ago I found myself in a situation that got me real worked up, worked up in a looking-desperately-for-the-exits kind of way. Eventually I did find the exit (it was a door), and I made my way back to where I needed to be. Somehow, through logic that now escapes me, I got it into my brain that I needed to listen to Music for Airports. I don't know how I knew about this album, and I'm also not sure that I'm allowed to call it that. Maybe I'd heard it at some point before that time 19 months ago, but I wouldn't testify to the fact. Regardless, that is what I listened to, and back then, much like now, I found it remarkably soothing.

Listen: I bring this up only because in the past couple of days I have been getting myself awful worried about something that, now, in the light of greater preparedness and a healthy dose of Ambient 1: Music For Airports seems a lot less threatening and terrible than it did about eight hours ago. In conclusion I am making this album the first-line treatment method for when I get too upset, okay? So now you know.

Also, if you were wondering, the second-line treatment for when I get too upset is putting this on a screen and myself in front of that screen. Thank you.

What Was that Fortune Cookie Trying to Say?

"Diligence is the mother of good fortune."

Examination:

• This is not a proper fortune, this is just a baseless claim about diligence.
• I have not been being particularly diligent recently, which is why I am awake at 2:30 a.m. with half two-fifths of the MS Office suite open and humming away on my desktop.
• Given my current situation it is arguable that this fortune cookie is in fact a warning about what may turn out to be misfortune in my future.

Conclusion:

I am Worried.

in other news: I was right about how this would play out.

What Went Wrong this Easter?

I will tell you: I did not eat a single Cadbury brand Creme Egg this Easter season of 2008. This is not for want of trying or lack of opportunity - I visited two CVS stores today (Sunday) and one the previous day, but all searches of their shelves proved fruitless*. I would have gone to a Grocery store or a more Reputable Confectionery had I the time, but I was busy being a human being who doesn't expect to have to buy his God Damn Easter Candy in Advance I'm Sorry. Would that I could raze this city to the ground for this (as I see it) slight against The Lord's Tradition, but I know in my hollow heart-cavity of hollow heart-cavities that the machinations of this catastrophe were of my own design, and that is the bitterest egg of all to have to swallow.




*I did find a few Cadbury Orange Creme Eggs, which is a lot like coming home from sleep-away camp to find that, in your absence, your whole family has packed up and moved away, leaving only a note on the front door that reads "sorry," and on the back of which is written "that nobody will ever fucking love you for as long as you disgrace the planet with breath in your lungs."

This is an Example of Problems

El Triste, El Verdad

I don't think either of us are worried about the way this blog is slowly turning into a gallery of things I draw in class.

What is the Weather Doing Right Now #10

It is 16 degrees with winds at a terrifyingly steady 33 mph. This is the kind of weather God brings out when he’s doing dry-runs for the apocalypse. Everybody should say whatever it is they need to say because weather like this is a good reminder that tomorrow is not guaranteed.