FINALLY

I got my computer back. I left it at my parents’ house when I left after Christmas and that was two whole days ago. Which means I a) just finished hyperventilating, b) desperately need to answer about an hour’s worth of emails, c) obviously am procrastinating on that and d) am late for Tuesday Comic once again.

My sister thinks I’m gross. She’s right.

This was drawn back in the days of Biology at U of T, which were soon thwarted by OrgChem as a prereq to every other upper year class ever. I had intended to become a medical illustrator and discovered that many illustrators with Bio backgrounds were chosen over those with Fine Arts degrees. Then I failed Chemistry and went back to English, the end. (Also, yes, it does say “pt. 2” and I will issue pt. 1 soon. BECAUSE I CAN.)

Noooo…

I totally forgot about the very existence of Comic Tuesday and now it is Not Comic Friday. Dang.

Here is a belated comic in tribute to my family and the loving bonds between siblings:

Scully’s driving?? DRINK

This comic is made even better by the fact that I will NEVER HAVE UNDERGRAD ENGLISH HOMEWORK AGAIN. Yeah, it’s pretty awesome.

Dinner party

My sister recently issued a hypothetical question (she loves to do that) involving which 5 celebrities or historical figures, living or dead, you would invite to a dinner party. Not only must they be interesting to you, but they must have common topics on which to speak and must be able to get along with each other… for example, inviting Oscar Wilde and Winston Churchill could either be fantastic (because of their quips and witticisms) or terrifying (if it turned out they wore similar cravats or failed to greet each other with the proper panache).

It’s taken me awhile to come up with my celebrity dinner party, but here goes:

1. Jon Stewart. Because if conversation gets out of hand he can mediate and direct to a better, more common ground. I’d also ask a lot of questions about the guests he’s hosted over the years. Also he is teh sexc.

2. Damian Kulash. Not just because of my overwhelming crush on him coupled with crippling hero worship, but because he is a genuine brilliant soul. Also artistic. Also gorgeous. But he has to have shaggy hair if he’s allowed at my party.

3. Ellen DeGeneres. Why I tend to be aiming toward talk show hosts here is unknown, but as with Stewart, DeGeneres has wit, charm, a sense of humour, and the ability to steer conversation. She also has a broad range of knowledge which would lead to interesting conversations.

4. Oscar Wilde (sans Winnie). His prose is among the most haunting, his wit also razor-sharp, his imagination boundless. I can only imagine the clever put-downs he’d give me over my cooking. Scratch that, this is a catered affair.

5. David Sedaris. I will make him recite his “Six to Eight Black Men” in honour of the season, and we will bond over being short and having lots of siblings.

This would be the best party ever.

Edited to add: If there were any more space at the table, or one of the guests couldn’t make it, Betty White would be next on the list. Because she’s a strong woman, embraces her age instead of fighting it, has a career that keeps picking up speed, and she’s a total baller.

New favourite video of the moment

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a_426RiwST8

SAY WHAT

This man dances almost exactly like my dad, only with less 80s “moving-your-jacket-aside” moves. Still, the sweetness is undeniable.

My siblings

We’ve bin talkin’ fe’ th’lass ‘alf houh wiv varyus kinds o’Bri-ish accens. Vissus wot we do when we get togevvah. Woi? Woi no’, s’wot I ahsk.

Tim has been humming “YYZ” for, like, an hour.

Quotes from Tim this evening:

My mouth is like a party. Where everyone’s knitting. It feels like a 60s rug.

Let’s be mature about things. Penis.

UUUUUUUUSER. That’s a big deal in Tron, asshole.

ZOMBEHS

I’m not sure if I know about bird sex.

Well, my pants are halfway down my ass right now…

I dreamed of smoking up with dad. Kind of awesome, but not really. It’s like, if I’m gonna smoke up, dad’s not gonna be my first choice.

What?! That’s worse than people I know who can’t beatbox and they say “boots in cats”!

Let’s count ass cheeks… One.

What the hell was that?? Oh… Charlotte’s money.

That’s so great, my ass cheeks just applauded.

I’m going to shut up now. I’m going to start throwing Santa at you. Where’s your diet coke?

I tried to say you’re welcome, but I couldn’t burp long enough.

I’ll sing to you about creepy shit.

And a bonus quote from Alex:

Is that a Diet Coke I see?
If it is I’m gonna be
HAP-PYYYY!!

Eugoogley

Before our mum went to bed, she was googling the three of us. Awkward, I know. We came to discover that my brother’s name, when translated from Vietnamese, is Hybrid Heart. Wicked. And so she doesn’t feel excluded and yell at me, my sister’s name translated from Vietnamese becomes Alex Future. WHO MAKES A BETTER SUPERHERO. I DON’T KNOW.

Also, turns out my brother has a lot of fans who think he’s hot. Even more awkward.

They’re humming the Recess theme song now, and it’s weird. (My brother and sister. Not my brother’s fans.)

Home for the holidays

We’re listening to a food show mashup where they took all the innuendo and put it in a two minute sequence. Food has quite a lot of innuendo.

This is a family bonding moment.

Blog Party!

My siblings and I are all home for the holidays.

My siblings and I are all addicted to the Internet and our respective blogs:

Alex: http://tiltherewasrock.tumblr.com
Tim: http://itsnotmywordsthatyoushouldfollow.tumblr.com

My siblings and I are all, therefore, sitting in the living room on different computers, blogging at each other and leaving weird comments in each others’ inboxes. This is a blog party. These are their stories. *KUNG KUNG*

“I’m going to use bad grammar. And I’m going to use… wrong… grammar bits.”

Alex understands my pedantic attitude towards the use of the English language. She doesn’t care.

“So Kim Jong-Il won’t be able to look at things?!”

Tim gets upset about the loss of a tumblr account.

“We need a tape recorder for this conversation.”
“We need an actual recorder.” *plays the air-recorder*

Alex has questionable taste in musical instruments.

“Oh good, while I was tagging, ‘weird’ came up automatically.”

My blog understands me.

Me: Tim, say something funny.
*Tim gives me the most withering oh-please glare*
Alex: Why is it that in some places gay people aren’t allowed to marry, but Nickleback is still allowed to make albums? Think about it.
Tim: Alex… what.

Alex shows how much she loves creating awkward silences.

“Why did I just write Napoleon, I meant to write Nickleback”

I show questionable typing abilities and a total lack of concensgfertation

to be continued…

Woah.

I just had an email conversation with Miss Finster over the state of the North American postal services. True story.

That is my surreal fact of the day.