New comic up

So, after loads of delay, I've got a new comic up on the sister-site: The Art World's Red headed Step-child.


Special props to Slim for the photoshop magic tips (and takeover). Sorry the text is so scratchy, I'm not that great with proportion. Part of the text had to be re-done after rasterizing, so thats why it doesn't all have the same effect. (I couldnt be assed to re-do all the text)

Its a new kind of style and tone for this one, so just read it and then begin to doubt all the times I've told you that I only dream about zombies. People who dream science fiction can enjoy high (white trash) fashion as well. Anyway. there.

Don't worry I have a pile of text about werewolves and cougars just waiting to be put to photos.

Bowling as passion

This weekend I finally had a chance to utilize my Midwestern up-bringing in some way that's more useful than not being squeamish about dead animals or eating off the floor.
Hold tight, we're getting there.
On Sunday night, I went bowling. On the Nile (why do I feel like every since I moved onto the houseboat, everything I do has a Nile-centric theme. Maybe I should walk around with a martini and fur wrap and respond to every party invitation with "well, I'm sure thats a very diverting idea, but I think I would prefer to attend if it was held on the Nile.")
It was actually someone else's genius idea to go bowling, but I was the one who set up the phone tree of invites. Let's be fair, the phone tree is a huge responsibility, Someone should be giving me some kind of medal. This was special bowling for many reasons-
1. Harrison, the silky Nigerian had never been bowling before. As I was about to leave for the bowling lanes, Harrison asked if he could come, I told him I was in a hurry, so he immediately decided to shower for 20 minutes. Now, I was understanding a non-American's first-time bowling must be what my christening was like, Harrison was getting a step closer to god (or at least a step away from burning in afro-heathen hell) and he wanted to look good. I don't know if Harrison was confused or what and somehow thought bowling was a real sport but he dressed up in the shiniest white sneakers I had ever seen, basketball shorts and matching t-shirt. Sure, I had been wearing the same skirt everyday for the past 3 weeks, but it was my Action Skirt, good for impromptu street soccer and climbing over things, so I guess I can relate to Mr. NBA over there.

2. I dominated. (by dominate I mean I bowled 104, while everyone else barely broke 95) Finally all those years feeling embarrassed because I was lame enough to join a summer bowling league at the age of 14, (age requirement 12-14) paid off. In Wisconsin I was the worst bowler in the league, but in Cairo, there weren't any 12-year-old farm kids to outdo me, and I was a powerhouse. The fact that I used a eight pound ball doesn't detract from the completely unstoppable force that is me at all, in any way. I swear. (That's right, being up-staged by 12-year-old girls is not a new thing that has only been occurring since I've hit my twenties, but pre-teen girls have been humiliating me for a decade.)
I learned an important lesson: All I need to do to be good at sports is find someone from the third world who has never seen said sport played before. I challenge them to the sport, then refuse to tell them the rules. Finally, I secretly use children sized sports gear to win... because I am weak.


Next up, I think I'll take on Harrison at speed sledding, I bet Nigeria doesn't see a lot of snow.