Hey, hey. It's Valentine's Day.

I'm going to bypass the lame anti-Valentine's Day rant. It's hackneyed and boring. If you've got a jam then good for you. Jam on.  If you don't, it's not the end of the world. And no, Valentine's Day wasn't created by Hallmark and Hershey's just to sell cards and candy. It was created by the Catholic Church in 496 A.D. by some pope guy. At least that's what Wikipedia says. In 1969, the Catholics took it off the calendar but we still dig it anyway. So there's your educational tidbit for the day. You're welcome. 


But cards and candy are still super awesome and any excuse to give and get those things is pretty rad in my book. I got some super sweet valentines from my little monkeys at work. I was pretty excited. 


In all this hubbub, I decided to make my own valentines. And, not one to break with tradition, I went back to my tried and true subject matter. Behold. . . 

Ok, so maybe Batman and Liz Lemon are pretty perfect for each other. Both cranky curmudgeons who don't believe in Valentine's Day bliss. [It's Anna Howard Shaw Day as well, btw. Famous suffragette and Methodist preacher celebrated by angry ladies everywhere.]

Yes, naughty Bats is giving the finger. [Chill out, mom.] He's impolite like that. He also is holding a "Batarang." He's ready for business. Crime fighting business. So, suck on that V Day!

   

80s music rocks and you should too.

I made a comic that does not have Batman in it. It's sort of a miracle. Actually, I made two things where Batman does not appear. Stop the presses! 


I don't know how many of you are familiar with Michael McDonald: singer/songwriter, pianist, back-up singer, frontman of the Doobie Brothers who also propelled them to stardom in the 70s and 80s, wearer of a magnificent beard, and most of all - singer of sad love songs that tear at the very fabric of your soul (if they don't, then maybe you lost it somewhere). 

If you don't know the song, you should be ashamed of yourself and watch this gem. Note: he rarely looks at the camera. He's a shy sort of guy. 

Absolutely fabulous. 

And now for something completely different.

It's Patrick Bateman!!! Yay! Our favorite American Psycho. And he's fixin' to chop somebody with an axe. But only after he explains why Fore! is their most accomplished album, which includes the undisputed masterpiece, "Hip to Be Square." [I'm still working on his coif.]

Guess who's coming to dinner? Hint: it's not Sidney Poitier

I don't often do four panel comics but when I do, Batman is there. They're actually quite a bit of work. What with the drawing in pencil, drawing in ink, painting and such. Well, painting is the last step. There's really nothing that comes after that. I was just being overly dramatic. But this one is the new one. 

It was supposed to be a dinosaur interrupting a date but damn it if dinosaurs are tricky bastards to draw. Especially the legs. Friggin' legs. Get me every time. This is also my first attempt at furniture and drawing people seated. It took a few tries to get the angles right. Also, drawing food? That just sucks. 

Batman, like myself, enjoys steak. He also likes telling people when their dates are lame. Mostly, he just wants their meat. [Ed: That's what she said.] 

When Batman sings the world weeps

This was supposed to be a completely different comic. But sadly, my dinosaur drawing skills are simply not up to snuff. I wanted to draw a dinosaur in a shower cap singing Foreigner's sweeping ballad of love and longing, "I Want To Know What Love Is." I failed. I couldn't get the shower cap right and the dinosaur's body looked warped and sickly, which is just a real bummer. So I thought, 'Hey, how could this idea be 100 times more awesome?' The answer was simple. Batman. Of course Batman would sing the classic hits of the greatest British/American rock bands of the 70s and 80s. Admit it, who would not want to smash their face against the face of someone hot when listening to this sweet-ass tune? 

And it goes without saying that Batman has excellent musical tastes. That he sings in the bathroom, using his purple toothbrush as a microphone while wrapped in a pink towel. It's also understood that he wears his bat-mask at all times, even in the shower. Mostly because putting that black eyeshadow around his eyes is a real bitch. Who would want to do that several times a day? He'd go through a tub of Vaseline in a week (this comment will only make sense to women who remove their eye make-up with Vaseline, which is not recommended by dermatologists as it can cause irration to the eye and requires no small amount of pulling and tugging on delicate eye skin that can lead to wrinkles). So yes, Batman sings Foreigner songs while he gets ready. After this rendition, I can only hope that he went on to sing "Hot Blooded" or "Dirty White Boy." But part of me knows that he sticks to the syrupy love ballads so he probably went with "Waiting for a Girl Like You." 


Question is: what kind of jam would Robin sing in the shower? D'Angelo's "Untitled (How Does it Feel)" or Blackstreet's "No Diggity"? The world may never know. Or will it?

OMG!!!!! It's totally happening . . . except when it isn't

I can't believe I started this blog a year ago. Yes, that's right friends (all 5 of you), we've been on this roller coaster of emotions for a twelve month. And what have I been doing with my time? Watching an unhealthy amount of BBC miniseries'es. As if that's even possible. And yes, it's true; I've been more faithful to my minis than I have to this blog, my "art," and you, dear ones. For that, I issue a slight and not very heartfelt apology. I have a lot of ideas for things. Isn't that interesting? No, it isn't. Explaining one's ideas is like retelling a dream. Don't. Nobody wants to hear that mess. What I have been doing is making cards. Because what else is my paltry talent for if not sharing with the world in very tiny doses. Mostly, I make cards for my mom and my BFF (you know who you are). But I'd like to make cards for you too. I'm thinking of a way to mini produce them. . . Oh god, I started to doze off just writing this. Where is the funny? 


Here it is!

I know what you're thinking. This is neither funny nor awesome. It's a late birthday card. The inside says something simple like, happy birthday. Get it? It took my forever to figure out the proper angle for Batman to be in the picture while not over reaching my wicked drawing skillz. 

This is another one I made into a card. I was laying (or lying) in bed and thinking, wouldn't it be creepy it Batman was holding one of those balloons that is shaped like his own head. It would be creepy. But I think the Batman is just egotistical enough to pull it off. Also, I gave Superman red panties. I'm working on detail. I'm also trying to work out story lines. Doing some sketching and pre-writing. This is almost like some sort of work or something. Gross. 

Then there are the non-Batman related items. Believe me, they are scarce. 

This is the front cover and inside of a card I sent my parents after I realized that I couldn't go home for Thanksgiving. My request was that this card be put at my place setting. Mom's request was that I learn to draw hair. Obviously, the bald snarky face in all my comics is some horrific rendition of myself. Delia thinks I should give myself hair. Since my hair in real life is so naturally lovely. So I worked on it. I think I have the color right. But it's still in progress. 

  

Sad choice, Friend.

Ever wonder how the Batman says "Thank you"? If so, I think I may have the answer you've been looking for. If not, then this really isn't the blog for you. 

I made this for a friend but got so attached to it that I was unable to give it away. It's on my fridge where it will be appreciated and loved. 

I've also been making cards. 

This is a birthday card I made for the coolest, most awesome BFF of all time. Of. All. Time. 

This is the front and inside of a card I made for Mothra and Dadzilla (otherwise know as those people who birthed and raised me). Since I'm not able to go home for Thanksgiving, I wanted to send them something. I'm hoping they put this at the table where I usually sit. Just to make things a little weird. 

I'm thinking I should start making greeting cards for various occasions. Like an "I'm not sorry you broke up with that douche" card that has Patrick Bateman on the cover saying, "Pumpkin, you dated a tumbling, tumbling dickweed." (If you don't know who Patrick Bateman is, go sit in the corner and think about your choices.) Or a "Let's hate the world together Birthday card." I'm really thinking I should incorporate Mr. Bateman into things. He's just one letter away from Batman and, if you're Batman is my Batman, they're played by the same dreamboat - Christian Bale. (Well, he didn't look so dreamy in The Machinist, but we'll let that slide because he's so into his "art.") 

The End. 

STFU, Christopher Cross

As I was driving home from work, Christopher Cross's 1981 smash hit "Sailing" came up on my iPod's "Classic Jams" playlist. I resisted the urge to skip to the next song. Below is a live version of the song, as I'm sure that not too many people (my age, at least) are aware of the short-lived glory that was Christopher Cross in 1980-81. Cross was propelled into the sweaty spotlight by none other than Michael McDonald (which should give you an idea about his musical style, slow jams with real instruments. Songs meant to be sung with eyes closed. Icky). In 1981, he swept the Grammys, winning three awards for "Sailing" and his debut self-titled album. But 1982 came and Christopher Cross was forgotten. With his "Best New Artist" Grammy, Cross started a trend, a curse really. Because no one who wins that awards every does anything awesome ever again. Just ask Christina Aguilera.

So, with all this context rattling around in my brain, I burst out laughing in my car, looking like a complete loon to passersby, I'm sure. This is what my brain saw:

Because, let's be real. This song is sort of terrible. It's a guilty pleasure. Something you sing with your eyes closed in the shower, hoping that doing such a sappy action won't result in a slip-and-fall with paramedics crouching over your dead, naked and pruney body saying, Damn, that Chris Cross is a killer. 

Also, I love to make comics about jerks and assclowns. We'll see these boys again (or they could be bald girls. I rarely give anyone hair). Maybe they'll have a run-in with Cross's mentor, the maestro of white dude soul, Michael McDonald. Just maybe. ;)