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*