Dr. Pants- Watching the World End : A Review... kinda.

Approximately 2 weeks ago, some version of this conversation happened:

I also informed the awesome Dr. Pants that I am terrible at reviewing stuff and fail, often, at doing things on time, despite best intentions. However, my desire to not embarrass myself by looking like some flighty jerk outweighed my overwhelming need to not prioritize things that I am not paid to do (because I am not being paid for this review, or compensated in any way, I really am doing it because their rocking concert in The Bloggess' bathroom turned me into a fan, and because I was assured that drawing songs wasn't a cop out) so here we go... BEFORE DEADLINE, BITCHES!

Watching the World End is Dr. Pants' new EP, scheduled for release on April 28, at which time you should totally go and buy the hell out of it. The EP is the third of a four-part series entitled THE TRIP.

The album is fun and funny, a mixture of funk and nerdy rock.  It consists of 6 songs, all of which I illustrated, and all of which are worth listening to. I know that doesn't sound like much of a recommendation, but as I advised, I suck at reviewing and when I say something is worth listening to, it means it is actually enjoyable and good.  Now on to my illustrations!

Robot Spiders 

This is by far my favorite song on the album because the story it tells is so much fun. Don't even take my word for it, listen for yourself!

Collections

This song has nothing to do with cats, I don't think, as it is an instrumental. I just wanted a reason to draw cat buttholes since all the cool bloggers feature cat buttholes and it makes them famous. Also, I like the idea of a living collection, because it is awful, just awful. Unless you collect cats, in which case, I don't mean to insult you, but really... there might be something wrong with you.

No Funkies

I am reminded of the hip coffee culture in my college town of Gainesville, FL listening to this song, for some reason.  It is entirely funky and so catchy I find myself singing it randomly. "We don't want no funkies in here."

Natalie

Very reminiscent of Weezer, this song is, and again, catchy. It also reminds me of the 80s, probably because it stirs up my first feelings of unrequited love when, in 6th grade, I was sitting and in my closet talking to Jorge Herrera on my cheeseburger phone and I said "Oh Jorge, I like you so much, I would do anything for you!" and he said "Oh really, well, could you tell Susan that I like her!" Susan was my best friend. I said "Ok..." and then hung up and cried for a while. This song would have made me feel better at the time. Especially if I had sung it while punching Jorge in the face.

Dog -> Hurricane

There are times when the melodies in this song remind me of Ween, and that is a good thing in my book. It waxes philosophic on the Butterfly Effect in true nerd style, starting at the title of the song that uses mathematical notation, and it makes me smile.  Especially when picturing a villainous dog. I know, these damned descriptions will do you no good unless you hear the songs.  That is the point. LISTEN TO THE SONGS... when they are available, of course. April 28th!

I Am Yours

This is a sweet and intimate upbeat love song and I am a jackass for illustrating it as I do with Spiderman and Harry Potter (complete with Triwizard Tournament Trophy), but it should not be news that I am a jackass.

So there you go. I appreciate being given the chance by Dr. Pants to share this music with you guys, and I hope that you will listen to the album when it comes out and you will enjoy it as much as I did. Also, I'd like a Robot Spider when available, guys. You know where to reach me for shipping details.

The Wrong Number

Yesterday, as I was jazzercising*, my crappy borrowed cellphone rang.  Since I am currently out of the service area and it costs like 2 dollars a minute to take a call, I just checked the number, realized it was no one I knew and went back to my squatting jazz hip thrusts, ignoring the ringing, which is more of an ephemeral ghostly wailing than a ringing, but you probably wouldn't have known what the hell I was talking about if I said I ignored the ephemeral ghostly wailing without letting you know that that is my ringtone. I only chose it because it was the least aurally offensive of all the rings available, and because I was unable to program Hedwig's theme into this phone by hand, since I am certainly not going to pay for a ringtone for a phone I hardly ever use.

Anyway, the phone then made a tinkling shooting star sound, which is the sound it makes when I get a message of the textual persuasion, which I always get when I ignore a call or miss one by accident, which I also usually ignore if I am doing something else, but then... I got another tinkling shooting star sound and I wondered, 'well, what the hell was that?!' So I checked and the person who I did not know had left a message.  And curiosity beat out. My logic being, if it was actually an important call for me from a number I didn't recognize I should know what it was, or if it was something important for someone else like "Billy, it's Devon, mama's being mauled by a snow leopard, you have to come home from the bar RIGHT NOW!" I might wanna let them know that they dialed the wrong number, for mama's sake.

But it wasn't for me, and it wasn't Devon calling for Billy, it was Ron, calling for Josh.

Hey Josh, it's Ron.  I'm in Montana for a few more days so give me a call when you get off work, dude, okay?! I wanna hang out. See ya man!

I can only assume that Ron was in town for something having to with a medical marijuana convention because this was the rest of the exchange when I texted to let him know that Josh was not getting his messages:

Me: Wrong number- sorry!

4:40pm Ron: What is the #

Me (thinking, doesn't your phone have that feature where you can see who you dialed? I thought that was standard, but fine, whatever...): XXX-XXX-XXXX (only I put my phone number instead of Xs, obviously, although I can't see that it would have made a difference had I not used numbers).

5:09pm Ron: Got it dude thanx when u off work

Are you fucking kidding me?! You were asking me, the person on the receiving end of the wrong phone call, what Josh's actual number is... *facepalm*

Me: This really isnt josh. XXX-XXX-XXXX has never had a male owner. (Screw capitalization and punctuation for wrong numbers, let them think I am dumb, what do I care?)

5:59pm  Ron: Cool send me a pic so I know this aint josh

FFS... really?! Now I have to sext you to get you to stop calling? But I would have sent a picture if I had had the capability to send pictures just to get him to go away. It would have looked a lot like this:

Yes,  I would have hired a skywriter for the occasion.

But instead, I just ignored him, while being annoyed and partially amused. Until 8:46 pm when I received yet another call from Ron, which again, I ignored. And again, he left a message... and again, I was too curious and had to listen to it.

Josh- Ron. Dude, give me a call.

*blink*


If he calls again, I am texting him a link to this post.


 *fine, I wasn't really jazzercising, but that is more pleasant than what I was really doing, just trust me on this one.

I do have a magnetic personality!

I have a lot of problems with those fuzzy captchas that are quite popular on website these days. It is so difficult for me to read them, every time I encounter one, I become anxious and worried that I might actually be a spam robot without being aware.

Life in a Vacuum.

My husband is vacuuming in our bedroom, where I am, and while I appreciate that there will be less debris on the floor from my favorite blanket that likes to unravel itself, leaving strings everywhere, I really hate the vacuum cleaner.  See, our room is not all that big and there are times that he has to pick up the vacuum, to get to other parts of the room, which he does while it is still on, and it makes one of the worst sounds I have ever heard, like a garbage truck falling off the empire state building.

The vacuum itself is from the 1960s and I don't think a single part of it has ever been oiled since it was made, by the amount of squeaking coming from it. It also has its own transmission, since it weighs a ton, and you have to be careful not to get pulled under it... which is part of the reason that I refuse to vacuum.  As well as the fact that loud sounds startle me and it is very hard to vacuum whilst curled up in the fetal position with your hands over your ears.

And I must admit, my cat like reaction to the vacuum cleaner might have possibly been influenced by the movie "Mr. Mom", which is about an evil vacuum cleaner that likes to eat woobies.  That is what it's about, right? Well, that's what I took away from it. Vacuums are bad and have evil intentions, always.

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I entered this contest to redesign a Guylian candy box. There is a substantial cash prize I'd like to win to remedy that "no income" thing.  Half the score is likes from friends, family, whoever you can sucker into clicking, so, if you would click like to vote for mine, it would go towards possibly winning me a buttload of money that I can then use to take myself to the Grand Canyon, and I would be greatly appreciative. =D  

Click here and like over on the right, by my name, please, and then send over everyone you know!

P.S. Thanks to those who have bought stickers and donated! You helped get my husband's medicines this month so he doesn't have any more strokes!  <3

There's got to be a better way!

We all know this, but I need to say it for the record:

Printers are ASSHOLES!

Today, I say this because I just spent WAY TOO LONG doing the double crosstic crossword puzzle posted today on Cakewrecks.com on account of my printer.  It would not have taken me nearly as long if my printer hadn't decided to trick me by printing out two pages while cutting off two entire clues and multiple letters from six of the numbered answer spaces. I caught the two missing clues about an hour sooner than I caught the missing letters. And of course, there was the migraine in there that slowed me down too, but my brain is less of an asshole than printers, which generally have a shitty attitude and poor work ethic.

This video from College Humor is an exceptional example of what I am talking about:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pQGtucrJ8hM

Stirring the Pot

This is going to be an obscenity laden rant regarding something about which I am impassioned. In not so fancy terms, OMG PISSED!

So, I had an argument this morning, it was a petty silly thing but, seriously... I have very little money. It seems that most humor blarggers are in the same rickety boat.  So, the argument happened because I became enraged when it was suggested that my household needed a Robostir. If you are unfamiliar with the Robostir, it is a "robot" that you put in a pot, and it stirs it for you.

It stirs a fucking pot... for 17-24 dollars.

But, it is not even a robot.  It doesn't have any AI.  It doesn't like, use lasers to stir. It isn't connected to Skynet.  It is just a motor, with a whisk attached to it, on 3 stupid legs that you plunk into your soup pot.  If I'm promised a robot, I want an actual gawddamned robot.

I'm so em-effing tired of gadgets that do things that people don't need help doing.  The average person is perfectly able to crack an egg without a gadget, or cut brownies into suitable squares...(if you don't like them being slightly uneven, don't eat one, asshole!)... or OMG, A BUTTER PLUNGER!?!? TWENTY TWO DOLLARS TO MAKE A RIBBON OF BUTTER! ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME!?! Sorry, I was just looking for examples at a website where you can buy all these idiotic gadgets.

And don't get me started on the Topsy Turvy. "Tired of having to bend over to pick up tomatoes that have fallen off the plant?"  Why, does the thing come equipped with an anti-gravity force field that keeps the tomatoes from falling? Because it seems to me that if you hang the plant upside down 6 feet from the ground, the tomatoes would be MORE likely to fall (that pesky potential energy and all) and, instead of being happy and whole, they would die a miserable, squashy, death.

But don't get me wrong, I am not against gadgets all together. I had a Ronco Showtime Rotisserie that I absolutely loved (made the best sausage EVAR). I just hate things that assume I'm a blathering idiot who is incapable of gross motor skills.


So, no, I don't want a Robostir because you know what else stirs a pot really well?! Your hand and a wood spoon, and that's like, virtually free. If stirring a pot is such a bloody problem, call me-- I can do it for you for $2.15.

Plus Shipping & Handling

Pet Peeves- Part One

This post is about my pet peeves. I was hoping the title might give that away, but just in case, that is what this is about, pet peeves. Llamas will be playing the part of me in pictures today, because I really like drawing llamas.

Pet Peeve #1 - Things in Chairs:

I was raised in a household where horizontal surfaces were for things.  There was rarely a horizontal surface on which there was not something, or a lot of things, precariously balanced.  It wasn't exactly messy, but it was certainly cluttered.
I still have way too many things and while you can actually see the surface of many of my horizontally-surfaced furniture pieces, the rule is absolutely NO STORING THINGS ON CHAIRS!  Chairs are for people, not things!
Honestly, this is mostly because I don't like cleaning and I don't want to have to stop and move things/put things away when I want to plop down, and though I am not above shoving things on to the floor when I really need to sit down, I ultimately feel guilty about doing so.

Pet Peeve #2- Shower Caddys:

The shower caddy is one of the worst household inventions ever created in my estimation. While I understand that some people find them exceptionally handy, I find them to be an evil contraption of potential energy and fear.

It has never been a matter, with me, of whether or not something would fall off the caddy and smash my feet or scare the crap outta me, but when... because when I have had to endure them in my life (and shower) there has not been a single shower I have taken without something plunging towards my ankles with malicious glee.

Usually, I am sudsing up my hair, eyes closed to avoid getting shampoo in 'em, and CRASH, BANG BOOM! The damned thing has shifted because I accidentally jostled it with my flailing elbow and now I have to say bad words and curse the person who thought putting heavy bottles on a platform high up in your shower was a good idea.

Pet Peeve #3- Damn vs. Damned:

Seriously, this one has almost broken up a relationship.  I'm a word nerd.  I used to read dictionaries for entertainment as a child and I value preciseness in language. I am much more tolerant of other grammar flubs, don't mind bad spelling as long as I can work out the meaning, don't mind prepositions at the end of sentences, but words, I think, should make sense when you use them, and the meaning of damn is not the same as damned. Damned is an adjective, and an adverb-- Damn is a verb.  So, "that damned shower caddy" makes sense because all shower caddies should be damned while "that damn shower caddy" doesn't.  Of course, "Damn that shower caddy!" would work just fine.
But because people use it all the time, it is considered acceptable according to Merriam-Webster, and according to linguistics, the -ed was dropped from many words where two consonants come together because it is difficult for people to pronounce when speaking quickly (for example, ice cream used to be iced cream) so I have ceased writing people off for not using the original, but you will notice, that I make the choice to always write it "damned" when it might well be spoken "damn."

To be continued. . .