On December 11th, 1922, a huge black bat dropped out of the sky and left a smoldering crater upon impact. Emerging from the smoke was none other than Vampira, fully formed and ready to present herself to the public as a mistress of the dark, put on this earth to provide ghoulish puns and introductions to bad televised horror films in the 1950s.

Her fame might have been fleeting, according to this Wikipedia entry, but her legacy is eternal. She was an inspirational figure to anyone who has ever loved dangerously arched fake eyebrow lines and a waist that is so small that it defies logic and reason. Her waist, supposedly seventeen inches around, belongs in a Lovecraft story that loves to not-describe the indescribable geometries of things which are cursed. Her waist could bring on madness, and that is what happened to me after I saw a random simple picture of her today, which I will draw for your amusement so that I am not infringing on a photographer’s copyright. I am not exaggerating her angles in any way.

Vampira! How! Did you not have organs? Could you eat? Inside, were you simply a few scoops of sawdust and faux-Satanic prayers? Whatever the cause and whatever the circumstances, hearing that she had a seventeen inch waist caused me (in a fit of insanity) to measure the Captain, who, with his twenty-one inch barrel, would split her precious black garments if he tried to wear them. The Captain is bigger around than at least one adult human woman who has existed, and I told him that to his face. I measured him, and told him that while drowning out his meows requesting kibble. And there is the story of how I wound up drawing the dumbest thing I have drawn all year.

vampira

Our cats are tricksters, escape artists, bold, too smart or too stupid. This is not to say that our cats are different than other cats. They are all pretty much the same. They are less like pets and more like shiftless roommates, forever late on the rent and refusing to clean up after themselves. We provide illustrated guides to them, once monthly.

the captain

I recently had an article about the benefits of procrastination. Aside from being probably the best article I have ever crafted, it is filled with great notions. It’s seriously long, so I imagine lots of you couldn’t make it through the whole thing, with your post-Mtv buzzfeed listicle brains, so I will give you a little summary: I humorously described how to still be productive while feeling guilty that you weren’t producing what you meant to be at that exact moment.

it me

I still agree with that fully, but today there is a difference. When I had written that, I was still filled with the spirit of not-quite-efficiency. I had “up and at whatever” “can do some things” “go get ’em, someone, maybe, you tiger-shaped stuffed toy” spirit. Today, however, I am just a blob. This is not a depression. It’s just pure laziness. And I think that’s okay. I have believed the horrible things people think about laziness, too. But now, here, in the middle of a good powerful laze, I realize that I may have been being too hasty in my judgment.

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A fondness or craving for sweets is the definition of “sweet tooth,” according to the internet, with help from Google.

Many times in my young life, I have heard people excuse their penchant for sugary treats by referring to the fact that they possess such a “tooth.” I have news for everyone. It’s not a good excuse. Pedophiles aren’t excused from child-touchery because they are fond of it, nor should people be excused of their sticky, disgusting habit out of fondness for sugar.

woah

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Our cats are tricksters, escape artists, bold, too smart or too stupid. This is not to say that our cats are different than other cats. They are all pretty much the same. They are less like pets and more like shiftless roommates, forever late on the rent and refusing to clean up after themselves. We provide illustrated guides to them, once monthly.

git outta there

In my long and illustrious career as a lifelong internet chat addict, I have collected many good friends who are also able conversationalists. This is how we happen to have all of these little comics from real chats. One of my favorite chattists is Kieron, whom you are meeting for the first time on this site today. He hails from the UK and he is always yelling about something or other. I really should talk to him more often because it is usually along these lines as you see illustrated below. So uppity, always.

Click on this image if you would like to see this fact-packed state history lesson up close in the real size.

kierons yelling again

Our cats are tricksters, escape artists, bold, too smart or too stupid. This is not to say that our cats are different than other cats. They are all pretty much the same. They are less like pets and more like shiftless roommates, forever late on the rent and refusing to clean up after themselves. We provide illustrated guides to them, once monthly.

the captain

You’ve seen him. You’ve heard him bray about his “donkey sauce.” He is festooned with odd colors and odder compulsions. He is Donald Trump, 45th President of the United States.

No! Trump is merely orange. I speak of Food Network darling Guy Fieri, guilty of abetting more crimes against calories than every Subway restaurant put together.

guy is oily

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alt titles: “Blum, Blum, Blum, Blum, I Want You In My Room”, “Max Blum: Feels Like Homo”

Today is Adam Pally’s Birthday! Happy Birthday Adam. To celebrate we dedicate today’s article to the one and only Max Blum from Happy Endings. We are going to celebrate by also celebrating me because that is how things are done when they are done in the spirit of Max.

max blum
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When you’re buying a wine, it’s probably easy enough to get a sort of general recommendation for which wine might go well with a certain kind of dinner. That is… if you’re eating something relatively normal for dinner, or something wine is commonly thought to go with.

But some of us don’t just eat pasta Bolognese and mushroom risotto, wine sites! Some of us eat the glorious American tradition that is fast food, and some of us want a complementary wine to drink while we eat that fast food.

I am not going to mention specific wines, because it’s unlikely that readers could find them across the United States, and even less likely they’d find them around the world. But I will describe the perfect kinds of wines for these foods, based on my 100% expert opinion as someone who hardly drinks wine, but never does not eat fast food.

Drink by Amanda Wood

 

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