We, the pirate aliens, have taken him away.
Long live Captain Glorknidt.
Monthly Archives: July 2012
I nicknamed my testicles ‘Scooby Doo’ and ‘Old Yeller’, because nothing spices up foreplay like saying “Release the hounds!”
“Weird!”
So, I’ll try to make this brief… There may be a few tangents, and I’m really tired.
I was walking home from work tonight, exhausted after 13 hours shared between two jobs. It was about 11.45 at night and on my side of the street ahead of me was a pack of youths. I don’t know what the collective noun for hooded reprobates is really; a gaggle of chavs, a flock of delinquents? Anyway… I call them youths; it sums it up nicely, derogatory enough to convey my meaning, condescending enough to convey my sarcasm. I don’t know what age I was when I began to refer to ‘punk kids’ as ‘youths’, but I think it was around the time I once saw a 13 year with a cigarette who was so indifferent and unintelligent, that he tried to spit on the floor, as so many smokers do, and couldn’t be bothered to turn his head to the left or right, thus combined with the forward momentum of his walking meant he spat on his own shoe. Anyway, they were youths, and I decided to avoid them for some reason. They were drunk and loud and boisterous, and I couldn’t be bothered to be near them. I figured I’d just cross the street.
This is where shit went wrong.
Half a letter for a finger… Confusing title, eh?
I went to get my ring finger sized yesterday, I won’t go into why…
Anyway! I tried on a test ring, and was told that if I had a normal ring, I would be a size R. No problems so far. However, the lady then said that if I were to get a broader ring, I’d probably be a size Q and a half. Problem encountered.
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I went to see Batman tonight…
The movie, I mean… Not the guy: that’d be crazy. Anyway, I’m not going to talk about that, you’re not interested in my ‘review’.
What I will talk about however, is the three guys sat behind Becky and I. It’s weird, I’m pretty much a robot; with all my disassociation and PTSD, I pretty much don’t feel any emotion… Except for one.
Really; there are no specific nutrients that a zombie can get from eating brains that it can’t get from a wide range of other foods.
The Unsurprising Adventure of Fly Boy
This week on The Unsurprising Adventures of Fly Boy (a comic I just made up earlier today by scribbling some terrible drawings an on order pad at work while my boss wasn’t looking), our eponymous hero, Fly Boy, is humming softly through the streets once more; bumping into windows, bothering normal people, running in circles around piles of dog shit, and generally being a man in a fly costume.
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Cat in a Box
Silly Amazon. This isn’t the cat I ordered. The cat I picked out online had longer fur. Now I have to send this one back.
*sigh*
Where’s that duct tape?
Attention, internet! Help contribute artwork to my new book!
So, as some of you may know; I’m currently writing a book of funny, ridiculously made-up, animal facts. The original idea was to have my girlfriend, Becky, draw some simple sketches for each one; but as the list has gotten longer and longer, I’ve had a cool idea…
The book is designed to be almost a fake science text book of unrevealed animal behavioural characteristics; so, as it would be for a science book, there would presumably be a number of different sources. In other words, I think it would be absolutely amazing if some of you guys could submit drawings for me to put into the book, with credit given to the individual artist, of course.
They can be really detailed scenes, or really simple sketches, but if you want to get involved, please email me at the address below, saying that you’d like to draw something for me, and I will get back to you straight away with a specific animal fact for you to do. I’ll give you the fact itself, and maybe an idea for it; but the drawing itself can be whatever you want.
I’d love some of you guys to have a go, no matter how bad you may think you are at drawing, any entrants would be really appreciated, and if anyone could reblog this for me as well, I’d absolutely love it. Thank you!
My email address is: GrumpyComments@hotmail.co.uk
Back to The Future: The Original Opening
Doc: Brace yourself, Marty. When this baby hits 88 miles per hour… You’re going to see some serious shit.
Police: Doctor Emmett Brown; stop the vehicle. We have reason to believe you have stolen nuclear materials on board.
Doc: Holy shit, Marty! Get in!
Marty: Woah, Doc. What’s going on?
Doc: Come on, just get it. That’s it. Let’s get out of here.
Police: Pull the vehicle over, or we will be forced to open fire.
Marty: Doc, what’s going on? Stop!
Doc: We can make it, boy. We can make it to 88.
Marty: They’re blocking us in! Pull the fucking car over, what’s wrong with you?
Police: I repeat: Pull over or we are authorised to use deadly means.
Doc: Here we go. We can make it.
Marty: Doc! We’re going to crash into them! Fuck! Stop the fucking car; what are you, fucking insane!?
Police: Open fire, men!
Marty: Waaaaaaaggghhh!!
[Fwooooooooosh]
Doc: Marty! Wake up!
Marty: W-w-what…? Where…? A-are we d-dead?
Doc: No. We’re in 1955.
Marty: Oh my god… You’re kidding. You must be.
Doc: Yeah, sorry. We’re in prison. We didn’t make it. Also you lost a leg.
Marty: … I… I what…?
Doc: Heavy, right?
