The lady (her name is Kimberly) works at a private school for little (rich) kids. Often times, she comes home from work and shares with me these stories of hilarity. Mostly involving the weird and silly things kids say. Kids of the younger persuasion are the best types to hold a conversation. They really do say the craziest things. The other day, she told me of such a conversation. Continue reading “Stuff Your Kids Say: The Dinosaur Kid”
Robert Schimmel was a comedian who spent a good deal of his later career talking about his experience with cancer. It was great to hear him discuss such an issue with as an open discussion as possible. He was as hilarious as he was sad. I had the great fortune of seeing him perform in Tampa last year. He was a master of his craft.
He passed away Friday in a tragic car accident. Perhaps that was our creator’s big joke. The man survived such a horrific cancer ordeal, only to be ended in a car accident. Here is to you, fine sir.
Mr. Robert Schimmel (9/2010)
For the record, I would like to get it out there and say what you want to say; what your penis is trying to say but can’t because you’ve clouded its judgment. Megan Fox, star of such hideously awful films as the Transformer franchise and Jennifer’s Body, is fucking disgusting. Pardon my language but it had to be said. She is a very unattractive person. But the world says, “No way! You are fucking crazy!” Only I say, “No way brosef, I am not.” I would not have sex with her using your penis.
No Love for Optimus Prime (8/2010)
There is something about her that just scares me off. Maybe it’s the hint of herpes that resonates on her lips. Or her awful taste in movie selection (which proves to me quite simply that she hasn’t the skills of a third-grade reading level). I hate to say it but I like girls who can read. I also like girls who have regular size thumbs. Not thumbs that are bigger than a midget.
Now I leave the decision to you, the fine people of America. What do you think about this hideous beast of sexually transmitted disease?
And if you use them, please feel free to Digg us! We need all the help we can get.
My eyes have recently been opened to a phenomenon I’ve never given a single thought to: children and the interesting conversations they have. I often forget how ignorant children are of the world and all of its awful splendor. Having a conversation with a child is pulling the cord of a See ‘n Say. You pull the chord hoping for, “The cow says, ‘Moooooo,'” but instead get something completely random. But when you speak with children, it’s a lot more interesting than an animal sound (sometimes anyway).
A good friend of mine recently discussed a conversation he had with his daughter during that whole BP oil splendor. Rarely can a kid say something that makes me smile. Despite my completely uncaring nature towards the BP oil spill of doom, I was a little troubled by the thought of this kid not being able to make sandcastles with her daddy. It was the only time during that almost 90-day Gulf of Mexico massacre that I slightly cared.
With that conversation, however, came inspiration for me to do something… for me to take action now. Because as Zack de la Rocha once said, “If we don’t take action now, we’ll settle for nothing later.” I’m not a very smart man but I’d like to consider myself a man of action.
“Cool man, you’re going to do something about the oil spill?”
Whoa dude, you’re seeing the wrong point. Of course I am not going to do anything about BP except fuel up my car there. What I meant by action is that I’ve found a new calling. I’ve decided to start a new series called, “Stuff Your Kids Say”.
This first entry is said conversation with the little girl about her feelings towards sandcastles. Remember that scene in Knocked Up when Paul Rudd said, “I wish I liked anything as much as my kids like bubbles.” I don’t know why but this conversation completely reminded me of that. Here is the conversation:
Daddy where does the oil go?
Right now it’s just floating out there in the water, moving, and some of it will wash up on the beach.
But not on our beach right? Not where we make sand castles!
Is that not the most precious thing ever? Seriously… that conversation almost made me want to drive through the Gulf and suck up all the oil with my Shop-Vac.
Sandcastles for Ally (8/2010)
This picture is for you JD. Don’t be offended by its badness. I drew it without a mouse… and that is a super challenge. Enjoy. -M
So fellow readers, do you think you’ve had a conversation with your child that is worthy of a picture? Maybe you’ve even heard a child say something interesting while shopping at a store (that was for you Bridget… you’re next). If you think you have something for me that is worth my time, then why don’t you go ahead and e-mail me the conversation in dialogue form (see above) at:
Perhaps someday you can see your fine words in a post with a pretty terrible amazing picture to go with it. Full credit of course.
That’s right kids… in order to appease a newer fan base, I had to use a quote from Twilight – the biggest piece of shit book/film franchise this side of Spider-Man. Oh wait, did I just lose those same fans because I made fun of it? Whatever. The quote is so perfect as to what’s about to happen.
It’s been a crazy year. I don’t even know where to begin… but don’t worry. I’ll share it all with you. I’ve told you practically everything so far, why would I stop now? This is all coming back. I promise you.
“Why is it coming back all of the sudden? You left us in the rain. You keep putting in it and pulling it out without letting me finish!”
I know, I know. I keep saying I’ll post more, then follow it up with nothing. But, alas dear readers, it has happened. The moment we’ve all been waiting for. I finally got brand new silverbox, complete with Illustrator. My
shitty pictures city pictures/pictures of doom shall return. So will the stories. This year has been one of the craziest years of my life. For every bit of misery came a sprinkle of happiness.
And I’ll be sure to share it all with you. So don’t worry.
A long, long time ago, I drew a picture for Romi for reasons I don’t really remember anymore. I just found it in the bowels of my computer. I think it stemmed from a conversation about beloved (or mostly loathed) pubic hair. Perhaps it all started from this conversation I had about a very short-lived relationship I had.
I dated a girl one time in 2002. We saw 8 Mile together when it came out. I think that’s the only thing I really remember about her, as far as things we actually did. We never slept together. She was never one of the illustrious digits of mine. Do you want to know why? Sure… we all do.
One time, we were making out, rolling around in bed. So I guided my hand to her special area. I noticed something quite fowl. Her, uh, lawn was a bit too out of control. This is the kind of crazy yard that neighbors would complain to the home owner’s association about. Also, the shape of the thing. It was everywhere; her lawn was definitely outside the quadrants of a normal lawn. This thing could trap a fucking raccoon.
As disgusted as I was at the time, I figured it’d be rude of my fingers to enter a lawn but not go inside for tea. They were hesitant but they finally made it. Only there was someone else in there blocking the entrance.
The girl said, “Um… I’m sorry, I am on my period.”
Yes, you read that all right. I take my hand to the south, peruse around the merchandise, enter the front door… and THEN she decides it’s a good time to inform me of said problem.
I took my hand out, washed them both with fire, then went to sleep. I broke up with her the next day. It wasn’t so much about the tomato soup filter I bumped into without any official warning; instead it was the lack of weed trimmings. You can get lawn maintenance gear anywhere for the cheap. I think it was then that I decided that any kind of untrimmed lawn just wouldn’t be part of my universe.
There is just nothing good about pubic hair… on either side of the fence.
Good news? No one, aside from Romi, has ever laid eyes on it. More good news? It’s done with glorious Illustrator.
Bad news? Cover your eyes…
What’s Your Sign, Girl? (2007)
On my travels through my computer’s hard drives and flash drives, I’ve stumbled upon some really weird crap. First there was Goodbye My Sweet, a tragic tale of a man who simply can’t handle loss. I even found Rabbit and Future but that Slim Shady movie that came out weeks after I wrote it prevents it from ever being published. Then I found this weird story.
Also written in 2002, it’s a true story about a strange night in 1996. I was 15 years-old. Some friends and I were all hanging out. Some of my friends were into doing crazy shit — like drink bottles of cough syrup or huff gas until you couldn’t smell it anymore. That was never my style but I couldn’t avoid going along for the ride. How could I not want to see what kind of crazy stuff they would get into?
Although I was never part of their over-the-counter intake adventures, they did provide me with enough adventure to fill a book. Or at least a small shitty book (drew with Paint mind you). I drew this about 8 years ago, while I was taking a trip down memory lane. It’s a rocky trip but I recalled this particular night and had to lay it on digital paper. Looking back on these illustrations, I find it hard to tell which character is which. See if you can tell.
See if you care.
But what did I learn through all of this? I saw kids doing crazy shit when I was still one of them. I never put a bottle of cough syrup to my lips for anything other than fighting a cold. I’ve never done anything with gasoline that didn’t involve keeping a car alive.
Life was always too hilarious for that. It still is.