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. ;) 

IT'S THE FINAL COUNTDOWN!!!!!

And now, dear children, we come to our last installment of The Batman chronicles. When last we left our hero, he was picking on the Captain America and his own charge, Robin. Tonight, the Batman comes face to face with someone who may just be more mean than he. A man with a real chip on his shoulder and a hefty anger management problem. But first . . . 


The Batman and Spiderman

There he is, folks, being a jag. The Batman doesn't like your powers, Peter Parker, or how you got them. I mean, come on, a spider?! It's kinda lame. Admit it. I grant you, it isn't as lame as the idea of Two Face. A man, who once fought for justice, falls  halfway into a vat of acid, which, as luck would inevitably have it, turned him into an insane monster who relies on a two headed coin to make the judgment of who lives and who dies. [Note: that previous sentence must be said in the voice of the moviefone guy, you know the one, with the deep voice and awesome inflection. yeah, that guy.] I've never liked Spiderman. Although, he is becoming an interweb sensation. I don't know how many of you flit on over to memebase.com, but you should. In fact, you should go here, specifically, Superhero Memes. It features a lot of Spiderman. I don't know why. Spiderman is a scrawny runt that shoots web from his hands. How does that work? He must, after being bitten, develop holes in his wrists that excrete sticky webbing. Gross. Only a teenaged boy would think of that. Also, forgive me for half-assing Spiderman's costume. I was not drawing on those lines on his suit. I am not that talented. 

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for. The final scene. The scene to end all scenes. Featuring my two favorite superheroes of all time. Of. All. Time. 

HAHAhahahahahaha! It's funny, right?! Because Wolverine is even more mean, crass, cold-hearted and conflicted that the Batman. And now I have the X-Men theme song (from the cartoon) and Europe's "Final Countdown" vying for top spot in my brain. I guess Europe won since I have travelled to YouTube in search of a wicked video of the song made by some random guy. Oh God, this video is so awesome. I'm gonna link it. Terribly awesome video. It has the lyrics so you can sing along and it has stills of the moon. Riveting. Now, I'm thinking of GOB (from Arrested Development) and his magic tricks. Oops, I mean, illusions.

What the world needs now is more Batman

The title of this post should be sung to the tune of Mr. Burt Bacharach's quintessential classic tune "What the world needs now is love." I love a Backarach song. This particular one was featured in Austin Powers (the first one) with a cameo by the song writer himself. So. . . yeah



I know you guys are so stoked. Two posts in as many days. It's like magic. Or I finally have some free time on my hands (and nothing left to watch on Netflix). 


Edit: about last night's post, I had a serious discussion with my dad (who is all-knowing) about the Green Lantern. I gotta say, I was wrong in my appraisal of Mr. Lantern. Dan says he was a bit of an jerk. He was all moody about some tragic murder in his past and walked around all "Hey, I'm a jerk and I'm gonna kick your ass" (Dan's words, mom, not mine). So, perhaps I jumped the gun. Maybe Green Lantern could go toe to toe with the Batman. But I'm pretty sure Christian Bale could end Ryan Reynolds and beat him in a deep voice growl off. 


I have two more cartoons. 

The Batman and Robin dynamic has always seemed rather tense to me. Robin, the young orphan, looks to Bruce "The Batman" Wayne for advice, guidance and approval. And, of course, Batman is going to be a douche and never give Robin the encouragement he needs. Also, Robin is a bit of a sissy. Who chooses a small, cute bird as their superhero name/identity? I mean, robins belong on calendars and Christmas greeting cards  not fighting crime on the mean, dark streets of Gotham. As a result, Robin will never have Batman's respect. And Batman is going to give the poor boy an eating disorder. Because that's what the Batman does. Like a boss.

I felt this was a timely pairing, given the holiday. Also, I saw the Captain America movie from the 80s(?). It was super lame and yes, his shield totally looked like a sled. The same kind Chevy Chase uses in Christmas Vacation. One can only hope that the Cap'n uses his to slide down snowy hills and through Walmart parking lots. Also, I figured that it's about time someone talk back to the Batman. And you and I both know that Captain America's rebuttal to any critique would be to attack someone's patriotism. Sadly, Batman doesn't really care. He's loyal to nothing, except justice (and other clichéd, abstract terms). Loyalty is for suckers. Right, Bruce? 

The Rhythm Is Gonna Get You

Everybody needs a little Gloria Estefan and the Miami Sound Machine. Amirite? Of course I am. 

So, I've been working on a few things. One, which you will find posted directly below, is greeting cards for special occasions. These are occasions that Hallmark doesn't make cards for, like when one of your best friends gets ordained and moves away. You're happy and want to say congrats but you're also a little pissed and mope-y about it. I made a card to reflect that. I also made a card for someone who is incapable of sending birthday cards in a timely fashion, which, I'll have you know, is not me. I don't like tardiness so the card has some strong language. Here they are. (Oh, and if you have any ideas or requests, I'd be happy to make something special). 

I think they're pretty funny. They're watercolor on parchment. 


The second project, and my favorite by far, is a series of cartoons about Batman. I love superheroes and comic book movies. (I was never in to the actual comic books for some reason.) Let me just say, I friggin' love Batman. Always have. He was always my favorite superhero. Mostly because he's a bit of a dick. And those of you who know me well, know that I have a penchant for douchebags. What can I say, I have a type. What follows are a series of interactions between the Batman and other superheroes. But don't worry children, the Batman will soon find an equal and get his comeuppance. Without further ado. . . 

Ok, so let me explain this first one. Batman is badass and Superman is a total wussy tool. Like really, kryptonite? Come on! Also, he's an alien with superpowers, of course he's going to use them. What is his motivation? Not the savage murder of his parents right before his young and innocent eyes. Batman has no superpowers, no spider bites or special rings. He just has a massive chip on his shoulder and a butt-load of cash. Can't fault a handsome man for that. So,Superman gets pwned by the Batman, as he should. And he cries about it. Like a chump.  

I'm gonna be honest with you right now. I don't know anything about the Green Lantern. Except that he is being played on film by the buff-tastic Ryan Reynolds (who can't act his way out of a Sandra Bullock movie). I asked my dad what makes this dude so special. A ring? Seriously? I don't get it. This may be an unfair judgment but, like Batman, I don't give a crap. Also, I think if Batman ever tried to be funny, he would just sound really awkward. Can you imagine Christian Bale in his deep Batman rumbly voice tee-heeing over a lame pun? Terrible. It would be terrible. I mean, he's got threatening people and making growly sounds down to a T (or is it Tee? Whatevs). But the funny? Not so much. George Clooney. He was a funny Batman. You'd have to play it light with nipples on your suit. Man, that movie sucked. . . 

More to come. Stay tuned. 

One more thing. Dancing to Aerosmith's "Love in an Elevator" in your living room is one hell of a workout. 

[Something Cliche About Life]

Yo! I'm graduated or something like that. Or I graduated. Some people make "graduate" passive but, from an not-very-extensive google search, the passive form is incorrect and an "abomination," according to some guy on the interwebs. So you know it's legit. I don't like speaking in the passive. I think it sound weak. Unless you're using it for an intentional creative purpose, which I'm not. I could though. As if I were implying that I was forced to graduate by some strong-armed academic suit who refused to let me be a student forever, just for funsies. But I'm not. So, I graduated. In light of that startling fact, I drew something. I used crayons. Well, I used one Crayola crayon. I felt, given the subject matter, that using a child's writing/drawing utensil was fitting. 


Part 1:

 Part 2:

Like. A. Boss. I'm totally breaking out my Indiana Jones Legos and having an all-out war against those damn Nazis (and those damn snakes!). 


Also, on a totally unrelated note, I got cat-called while walking to my apartment. By walking to my apartment, I mean, walking from my car to my front door. You'd think that there wouldn't be enough time or distance to get cat-called 20 yards from your door but you'd be wrong. So, Mr. Landscaper, the rolling of your R's might be real fine but that doesn't me I will be ti amor. Neither will I be your mamacita. 


Question: can one ever have too much "Say Yes to the Dress"? Answer: yes. Ladies trying on wedding dresses and crying because, omgwtfbbq, they totally look just like a princess. Weep. You know what you can never have too much of? "Swamp People" Yes, "Swamp People" is a show about the very underrated world of alligator hunting. For 44 minutes, we get to be part of the action, watching almost unintelligible Southern gents (everyone gets subtitles on this show) shoot gators in the head and lug their big, fat, raccoon-filled carcasses onto too-small boats and then sell the dead and sometimes leaking beasts. So the answer is, I'd rather watch some dudes in the bayou shoot gators than pretty ladies with too much make-up try on satin dresses. (I know you guys totally wanted to know that. You were waited with baited breath, thinking, 'What does Alicia like to watch more, "Say Yes"  or "Swamp People?"' So, dear readers, now you know.)  

Brass Knuckles, or "My son's beard is super sexy."

Starting stories is always the hardest part. So, I’m going to just skip ahead a bit. Screw beginnings. They’re overrated.

So this one time (I should preface this by saying that I was home-schooled during high school and had little contact with normal kids my age), I was at this lady’s house. She taught a writing class in her home and I was a student but also helped out with a class of younger kids as well. This lady, and her three strange kids, was weird. Like, seriously. While I was waiting on my mom to pick me up, Mrs. [redacted] were making small talk. Like you do when you’re waiting in someone’s weird house for your mom, who lives, like right down the road. I mean, come on, mom. Hustle. Mrs. [redacted] tells me that her son, David, who is two years older than me (making him 18), has grown a beard. “It’s really sexy,” she said, looking intently at my face while I strained to keep my lip from curling up. This kid was weird. More than his mom or his creepy sisters. Like, psycho weird. At 16, I was interested in, well that’s not important. What is important, telling a young girl that you think your son is sexy and that his new beard is sexy is weird and not ok. “You’re so alike. You and David,” she said. Then I realized, “Aw, crap. She’s trying to set me up with her creeper kid! Damn it!” “It’d be so nice. Well, I’d really like it,” she stammered, “if David brought home a girl like you.” Ummm, no. Just no. Feeling my pulse quicken and a terrible embarrassing heat rise in my chest, my mind began to race. How do I get out of this? What kind of excuse do I give? He’s too pale. He’s weird and wears too much black. He’ll kill me in my sleep. No thanks, Mrs. [redacted], I’d like to live to see 25. “He isn’t home though, right? I mean, I didn’t see his Trans Am,” I asked, trying to reassure myself that I would not be kidnapped by these people and used as a breeder. “No,” she laughed, “but he’ll be home soon. I’m sure he’d like to see you.” Great. . .

My mom finally arrived but so did David. And while Mrs. [redacted] was talking to my mom about god-only-knows, she suggested David show me what his father had just bought him at the police auction. Oh yeah, his dad was a cop, who admitted in a rather cavalier manner that planting evidence was cool as long as the perp was guilty. Which they totally were. *wink* David sidles up next to me and in an extra deep voice typical of teenaged boys who feel the desperate need to prove to the world that yes, their balls have dropped, says, “Come on.” He’s totally not into what’s happening. Does he know his mom is fantasizing about what kind of Aryan children we’ll have with her matching blue eyes, blonde hair and pasty skin? We walk down a dark hallway. Modular homes always have poor lighting, partially due to the craptastic paneling. He opens the door to a room full of weapons. He’s got friggin ninja swords, Viking swords. He had (I’m totally not kidding) a mace on his wall. Awesome. . .  Before I can absorb his stunning arsenal, he swipes something out of his weapons case where the smaller knives, nun chucks and other miscellany is kept. “This is what my dad got for me. It was a present,” he says this as he cocks his fist back in, aimed at my face. Brass knuckles. But not just any brass knuckles. Oh no. I was face to face with a pale, clenched fist bearing a set of brass knuckles emblazoned with swastikas. “Um, those are really. . . something” I said, groping for something to say other than the obvious “Are you a Nazi?” “You wanna try ‘em on?” he said as he took them off and held them in his fleshy palm. “No, I don’t. I don’t think they’ll fit. I have, um, small fingers” and I really don’t want to touch anything that belonged to a skin-head freak, which obviously, those did.

We stood there for a bit. He showed me some more weapons. Then he asked if I wanted to borrow the CD of a Tolien tribute metal band. They wrote songs in Tolkien’s Elvish. Neat-o.

As my mom and I walked to our car, me clutching a CD in my sweaty hand, my mom with her eyebrow cocked said, “What was that about?” “Um, wanna listen to some music.”  

Also, I will be drawing more pictures. I have ideas. Big ideas. But I've been dead for a while. I may or may not be a zombie or a vampire right now. Zombies are out, I think. So, I'm going with vampire (god, I have got to stop watching True Blood). 

I like it when you call me Big Poppa, or Biggie says it best

Hello fans (and by that I mean my mom and Leah), friends, and random people who have stumbled upon this blog while trolling the interwebs looking for shenanigans. Today sucked. Ok, not all of it sucked. But most of it sucked harder than a Dyson vacuum. True story. Because of this, I feel (to borrow a phrase I found on my favorite lady-blog) a bit stabby. But don't worry. I'm not going to stab anyone. Although Betsy (my fat lard of a cat) is getting on my last damn nerve. So, this is what she does. Check it. I get home at around 2:30 today and immediately put on my chillaxin' clothes. I lay on my bed, which looks like a tornado sleeps there but it's really just me. (What? I roll around a lot.) Heifer (in this case, Betsy) sits by my nightstand, staring a hole in my face, and just meows. Mew. Mew. Mew. Mew. Then, because she thinks she is so friggin' rad, she decided to knock the little figurine off of my nightstand. Why? She doesn't know. Nor does she care. All she knows is she wants something from her owner, who seems to be idly sitting on her ass, spacing out to memebase.com. Tap. Tap. Scrape. *Oh yeah, if I can just knock this crap off her nightstand, maybe she'll do that thing I want but is still TDB.* Um, what, what, what are you doing? I'm totally staring at her, my eyes as big a friggin' saucers. She looks at me, daring me to spray her right in the face with my squirt bottle. Mew. 

She's chill now, laying by my printer like, what? Me? Yeah, you. Heifer. 

Also, this lizard is angry too. And he wants to eat your family. He's not a dinosaur, per se. I think his body is more lizard-y but he could go either way. I'm planning a whole host of dinosaur comics because, honestly, who doesn't like a dinosaur? I should've bought that I (heart)Dinosaurs sticker I saw at Hot Topic last month. Why I, a 26 year old woman, was in a Hot Topic is none of your damn business. Don't you look at me like that. Srsly. 

This is a terrible title

Here are some things I drew. 

This is Wilford Brimley. Or rather, Wilford Brimley's disembodied head. He is really concerned about your blood sugar. Wouldn't want the sugar to take your eyes (or your legs). It happens. True story. I drew this during my Religion and Social Activism class. It was better than watching a powerpoint. Who does powerpoint presentations anyway? Business kids, that's who. Jokers. His mustache is wonky. For that, I apologize. Symmetry is not my strong suit. But I like his eyebrows. 

When I'm not reading or writing papers for class, I'm usually watching some junk on Netflix. This semester it's been Futurama. I like it much better than The Simpsons. Mostly because there are no sassy kids. I do not like sassy kids. I say this knowing full well that I was an incredibly sassy kid. Self-loathing, I suppose. Or something like that. (Ir)regardless, what you see above is a treble clef saying one of Bender's sexier pick-up lines. I think it works. I drew this in class too. *whispers* I may be a terrible student. Or not. 

 I'm going to go ahead an apologize right now for drawing most of these on notebook paper. The blue lines are really harshing my aesthetic. The blue lines do not, however, make cupcakes any less awesome. Cupcakes are a delight. For the afternoon. Oh yeah, I went there. *sings* Sky rockets in flight. Peeeewwwww. Afternoon delight. Ahhhhhh, afternoon delight. 

Enough of that. That's just silly. 

So, this little doodad is what you get when you place alicia at the library between two lame theology conversations. Not that theology is dumb. But what was being said at the time of this drawing was pretty terrible. I think it involved Wesley and serious faces. At first the doodle was just an angry alicia standing alone (Yes, in my doodles, I'm a bald man. Want to make something of it?). But that looked weird. And since I had zero types of desire to do my reading on the political career of Jean-Bertrand Aristide, I drew a sad book. I will end that book. *shakes fist, rapidly, in anger*

The wheel in the sky keeps on turning.

Yes, the title of this post is a Journey song. I think I'm going to make all my posts' titles song references. Next up: Van Halen. Be ready.

I started this blog-thing, my plan was to post regularly. Kind of like a Wilfred Brimley of blogposts. Check your blog and check it often. (Anyone unfamiliar with Brimley's angry diabeetus commercials will fail to get the joke I just made.) Moving on. But I can't post things if I don't make thing and I haven't been in a making-things mood recently. Oh, and there's this school thing. Apparently some joker thought it'd be cool to pile on readings and assignments during my last semester, when they know that my time would be better spent watching TV and drawing dinosaurs (and maybe finding a job or something). But it's mostly the complete lack of creative urges. So, to the two people who follow (and are made of WIN), I'm sorry I suck.com. To make up for my slacking, I'm posting a boatload of things. 

I'm really into alligators right now. Mostly because they are super easy to draw and I have caught some flack for my plethora of dinosaurs. I'm trying to branch out while staying in my comfort zone of the reptile family. P.S. he just ate a frog, hence the "ribbit."

This is a little monster guy. My mom said he looks like a pickle or cucumber. My dad, on the other hand, said he looked like a tombstone. They are both weirdos. Clearly, this is a portrait of a French gentleman. I'm pretty sure he's staring at a lady's boobs right now. Because he's creepy like that. Eyes up here, buddy. 

I drew/painted this while watching an episode of Miami Vice. The episode was called "Smuggler's Blues" and Glen Frey from The Eagles was the guest star. It was pretty great. 

This is a potato monster. I like his teeth. I like pointy teeth, in general. If you'll notice I put teeth on most of my drawings, even if they aren't sentient beings. I wonder what that says about me. I drew him while I was  at work on scratch paper.

Here is another really creepy drawing. It's a dinosaur. I need to make another drawing of Lester (that's what I've named him, mostly because it rhymes with "molester") and give him a beer-gut. His combover is the best part about him, I think. 

So that's about it. I'll be better about posting in the future. I swear. Actually, don't hold me to that. I think my TV show is about to start. 

Microorganisms are fun.

So I thought I'd draw and paint some microorganisms. I'm not really sure why. They don't have faces or fangs so it's a bit of a departure from my usual fair. But they are fun. And I've been feeling sort of science-y. My favorite is the free swimming ciliate. But the random bacteria guy is pretty neat too. I like his tail. And yes, I've also decided that it's male. Even though they reproduce through fission, which is awesome. 

 

Gentleman Dinosaurs Always Wear Pants

Sometimes I look at dinosaurs (or monsters of various types) and think, 'Where are your pants, Sir?' At least this chap can say, with absolute certainty, "Why, kind lady, I am wearing my pantaloons at this moment!" (And yes, this dinosaur does talk like a strange English fellow from the 17th (?) century.) 

Also, here are some anthropomorphized letters. The 'O' is singing "I want to know what love is" by Foreigner because he is awesome. 

A smorgasbord of badly drawn things! Hooray!

Because I'm sort of lazy and far too busy watching Miami Vice to draw more things, I'm posting some things I did last week prior to the creation of this awesome blog. 

I really like the round fangy guy at the top. And, because it was Christmas, I drew a tree. 

My favorites here are definitely the cowboy and the dinosaur attacking the city. God, dinosaurs are the most rad friggin' thing in the whole world. (Also, click to enlarge the pics.)

I've got to get back to Miami Vice. The End. 

Scurvy

This evening I got a hankering for oranges and came to the frightening realization that I might be coming down with scurvy. Without delay, I hastened to the store and got myself some Florida tangerines. Crisis averted. However, being a pirate would have been kind of bad ass.

New Year, New Things

So, this is my first blog post. Fitting that it should occur on the first of the year. I probably won't write a whole lot on this thing. It's more for cartoons and doodles. So if you're into that kind of thing, follow along. I try to make a few things a week, Hopefully, I will post them as regularly. But once classes begin, again, who knows. The party may end in a sad and tragic heap in the vast and lonely corner of the interwebs were no one wants to go. Clearly, I'm an optimist. 


The end.