Bleh.
Urgh. I'm so tired, and I am afraid I'm coming down with something. Sargon is sick - not, like, really sick, just a little sick. He did this last year, too. Caught something, shook it off after two days, and I was sick on Thanksgiving because of it, and it lingered for a week.
Yeah. Umm. I'm real thankful for your germs, dude. Real thankful.
Worked on my new projects today, both of them. One is a huge panel, and it's really neat to work larger-scale. It's coming along a bit slowly because it's so big; I almost have the design hammered out. It's just huge, and of course I go straight to filling all the space. Instead of making the figures small and self-contained, they're large, and all spread out and tangled with each other.
The box I'm working on is much smaller, so it's going faster. Still, both are pretty!
I insist I'll have pictures of the last one up Real Soon Now. I haven't finished vetting the photos yet. There isn't always time to fiddle with stuff; not as much as I'd like, anyway. And these need to be cleaned up to do justice to the full-on Son of Awesome vs. Bride of Awesome: Massacre at Lake Awesome III: The Return of Awesome.
Okay. Maybe by the time you see it, you'll say "What the fuck? It's not even that cool!" But by then I'll be dying of Venusian Upland Wormphlegm and I will be too busy paddling upriver through my own mucus to give a shit about your disdain. And if you hack on me too much, I'll contage you. That's a promise, even if it's not a proper verb.
Speaking of ill, the dog is being Mr. Fester McFucknut. He will not settle down, he's constantly panting, grunting, shifting, slapping his lips, or just lying on his side staring blankly at nothing. It's pathetic in the most guilt-inducing way. Clearly his arthritis is kicking his sorry yellow ass into next week. I feel terrible for him.
Well, I'd feel worse if it weren't for the fact that he did almost all of that crap even before his arthritis started flaring up. It's not much of a change, really.
I'll note that he is still capable of getting up and being all excited if I so much as touch one link of the leash. How debilitated can he be if he still wants to go for a drag?
Ah, I'm not fooling myself. The poor dumb fucker is on his last legs. And I mean that.
I'd insist Sargon take him to the vet but we both know there's not much that can be done, and at this point with Sargon sick and exhausted from two weeks without a full weekend, I don't think he wants or needs to deal with Bad News. He certainly doesn't need to ruin this weekend by putting his frigging dog to sleep. Christ.
I'm going to go read and hopefully stop worrying long enough to sleep. More tomorrow!
(Hey, I said I'd post every damn day this month, and I meant it!)
Yeah. Umm. I'm real thankful for your germs, dude. Real thankful.
Worked on my new projects today, both of them. One is a huge panel, and it's really neat to work larger-scale. It's coming along a bit slowly because it's so big; I almost have the design hammered out. It's just huge, and of course I go straight to filling all the space. Instead of making the figures small and self-contained, they're large, and all spread out and tangled with each other.
The box I'm working on is much smaller, so it's going faster. Still, both are pretty!
I insist I'll have pictures of the last one up Real Soon Now. I haven't finished vetting the photos yet. There isn't always time to fiddle with stuff; not as much as I'd like, anyway. And these need to be cleaned up to do justice to the full-on Son of Awesome vs. Bride of Awesome: Massacre at Lake Awesome III: The Return of Awesome.
Okay. Maybe by the time you see it, you'll say "What the fuck? It's not even that cool!" But by then I'll be dying of Venusian Upland Wormphlegm and I will be too busy paddling upriver through my own mucus to give a shit about your disdain. And if you hack on me too much, I'll contage you. That's a promise, even if it's not a proper verb.
Speaking of ill, the dog is being Mr. Fester McFucknut. He will not settle down, he's constantly panting, grunting, shifting, slapping his lips, or just lying on his side staring blankly at nothing. It's pathetic in the most guilt-inducing way. Clearly his arthritis is kicking his sorry yellow ass into next week. I feel terrible for him.
Well, I'd feel worse if it weren't for the fact that he did almost all of that crap even before his arthritis started flaring up. It's not much of a change, really.
I'll note that he is still capable of getting up and being all excited if I so much as touch one link of the leash. How debilitated can he be if he still wants to go for a drag?
Ah, I'm not fooling myself. The poor dumb fucker is on his last legs. And I mean that.
I'd insist Sargon take him to the vet but we both know there's not much that can be done, and at this point with Sargon sick and exhausted from two weeks without a full weekend, I don't think he wants or needs to deal with Bad News. He certainly doesn't need to ruin this weekend by putting his frigging dog to sleep. Christ.
I'm going to go read and hopefully stop worrying long enough to sleep. More tomorrow!
(Hey, I said I'd post every damn day this month, and I meant it!)