Rise of the RoboWasp

So, there's this Guillermo del Toro movie coming out next year called PACIFIC RIM (aka "PacRim"), about a future where mankind builds these massive robots (called "Jaegers", which is what they were drinking when they thought up this idea) to combat these giant monsters that keep attacking San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge.

Since sometime this past summer, there's been a bit of a wasp problem in the hallway outside our apartment door. I've no idea where they've been coming from. Somewhere in the walls? I'd kill all the wasps and the next day there'd be three new ones waiting to greet me. Like they were just lining up to get killed.

In any case, I was thinking about the premise of PACRIM and imagined what would happen if these fucking wasps got their hive together and built a human-sized ROBO-WASP to combat the guy who kept killing them. And then I drew the crude depiction above with the idea that I'd get someone with stronger drawing skills to do a better version for me.

If there was a knock on my door and it turned out to be a human-sized, avenging Mecha-Wasp — filled with ACTUAL wasps — with stingerhands, I'd probably urinate just a little.

Nonstop Misery

Network maintenance was scheduled at the office today, while the accounting crew is trying to finish payroll and get the fuck out of here!

And I just spent way too much time trying to find this gif I created a while back.

Eating Ice Cream GIF.

Vermont.

New Hampshire.

Ben & Jerry.

KEYWORDS. Must remember to use them more often.

When I catch this motherfucker I’ma chew his fuckin brain!!

The narcotic bliss of Christmas. Marred slightly by work. This godforsaken gig. But the work -- it helps us forget, doesn't it, precious?

I'm overcome by art.

Come and die with me.

No One Blinked

I stepped off an uptown E train at 42nd Street last night, after a few drinks with a friend downtown. I made my way through the station, watching all the other drunk zombies trying to stagger their way home. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw this fit black woman take a few steps down the stairs toward a downtown platform... then pulled down her denim jeans to her knees, revealing her bare ass, and began to squat as if she were about to go to the bathroom on the steps.

Did she think she was in a bathroom? Was she having some sort of emergency wherein she didn't care? I did not linger to see what happened next. Nor did I hear any commotion as I left the scenario behind.

2am, New York City, Times Square subway station, a few days before Christmas. All rules are suspended.

Tears of Unfathomable Sadness GIF

There aren't enough GIFs of this, Internet.

Scott Tenorman. Eric Cartman. South Park.

"Tears of Unfathomable Sadness."

Two sizes to fit your needs.

Merry Christmas.

12:12p 12/12/12

I am exhausted. Spent. Depleted on so many levels, it is positively heartbreaking.

12 12 12 12 12.

The job I've been working clearly doesn't leave me enough time to update this blog with the frequency I'd like. The hours are long and the pay barely keeps the lights on and, most egregiously, I haven't been able to scavenge the mental space and hours to WRITE. And my writing is my last hope.

But this is a long war, friends.

I have been profoundly, appallingly humbled. It's all the more frustrating because I know what I'm capable of and I know that my best work is, as yet, unwritten.

All right, lurkers. Every day is a new opportunity to become better.

Serenity now.

These pretzels are making me thirsty.

12:12a 12/12/12

To know me is to love me. To really know me is to fear for me.

12 12 12 12 12.

This is how the world ends.

December Wasteland

The right trigger on my PS3 controller has been loose for a while now. Sunday afternoon, I was browsing through Amazon looking at the cost of new controllers while understanding that the fix for this common issue could save me about $30 if I could just accept the risk of cracking open my PS3 controller and replacing a tiny cheap spring that had broken.

Sparing you the details, I ended up busting open my controller and replaced the spring with one I fashioned from the spring of a fucking pen I'd stolen from a fucking bar at some point in the past year. Easier said than done.

And then I proceeded to waste an embarrassing, irresponsible number of hours struggling to reassemble the controller.

The take-away? Time is precious and I've an incredible ability to piss it away on frivolous procrastination projects.

But hey, the right trigger on my PS3 controller is working a lot tighter now.