will you still be always bein mean to mee, when i'm sixty-four.

while you waxin you mustachios, eatin you pistachios.

in the spirit of full disclosure

(and because i thought i was home

alone but rza saw me)

(and because i look *amazing*)

i will reveal that my outfit

in the above panel

consists of

1. an enormous muscle tee

featuring a man on a riding lawn mower

and the words HI HATER

2. a pair of underwear

3. a pair of boots.

BOOM:

I think this is as close to craving the obliteration of self as these two have ever gotten, which serves as a useful model. I am in the green teeshirt.

dayum i drew this *last* time the weather felt like this, but it wasn't true at aaaall it turned out. but here we are in hat/jacket season once again and i am feeling all right. (or, "alright," as one might have it.) (if one is dumb and sucks.)

Keep um guessin' that's what i say.

TOTAL DISMAY; a moment's pause; deducin the damn pants offa stuff, man. that is how i do, it is my way.

o my stars and o my daughters little fish big fish swimmin in the water.

**Ma it's okay it was like one o' clock in the morning, no one saw me.

i miss you so much and all the time.

1. this sweatshirt, wth. on anyone else NO.

2. where are you now anyway

probably burying bodies

down along the river.

and now i am a lady.

givers takers movers shakers.

i am testing a new pen, the ink is real skinny :/

oohhh see *i* thought you were saying you had personal beef w/ robertson davies so *i* took the *other* one, but *you* were just saying "you are gross for touching those."

joyce thought he was puttin the pounce on me coz he asked my name, but it was pretty clear he just felt really uncomfortable when i started squawkin.

i love *my* muzzer.

also wth is the kid trying to buy probably condoms. jesus.

THE MORNING AFTERWARD.

(cut-and-paste-y again due to anger management again.)

and unto the least of these . . . of deeeze . . . of deze *nuts* bitch *please*.

*the first tbc in MY coloring, that is. not of all time a duh.

hands were clenched in fists of rage.

this has a weird cut-and-paste-y quality due to the original thought bubble being so offensive i could not in good conscience put it on the internet (where my mom would see it). but i hate to redraw things so the background is pretty lame and i am a paper doll.  I AM A PAPER DOLL.  BE SWEET TO ME.

i am just gonna go live in the hills anyway. you guys all stay here.

en la libreeería tomaaaamos hennessy.

(or not para *mi* of course, i am a *lady* just some nice evan williams para mi, gracias.)

FRENS: we are a team! that's why we are frenns.

a useful spanish phrase for if you go to puerto rico, teached to u by professar jarf (deceased).

*this just in professar jarf not deceased

i am the peanuts you are the stomping.

i have deduced the source of most of my woes and it is *this* dummy. hushin this dummy up for real.

i see how you do o yes i do.

we are like two al pacinos basically.

grey goose to scale.

it's not that the world is *not* both actually and apparently frequently unnavigable, but just that sometimes some beautiful blackeyed girl shows up singing songs about the broken, open, hopefilled heart, and you feel kind of more all right for a little bit.

#prairieempire

ppl in ny don't wake up an think "how shall i dress to accommodate this weather?" they wake up an think "how can i look balls ass awesome" which, in the summer, means ohh maaan, lookit the girls. incredibubble.

this might seem sarcastic since i, as yr narrator, am a female, an we are sposed to kind of hate each other when we are bein fabulous, but no way dude fiRILZ, i looove this sooo mush.

and the wind moving through the trees.

i juss wanna kick around in m'swimmies, where the water won't come up past m'kneees. right? i think. i donno. whatevr.