fluffyandbear.com

Much like the noble vampire, I sleep through the day so that I may work during the night.  However, it appears that a dark and malevolent force took advantage of my slumber today.  Strange — dare I say prankish — calls were made from my cellular phone while I lay a-snooze.  Thankfully, someone made me aware of this offense so that the culprit could be handily identified:

I’m lookin’ at you, kiddo!

Yes, you!  My own flesh and blood trolling through my saved numbers all so he could extoll the virtues of Optimus Prime or expose some evil robot treachery or something.  For shame!  For those inconvenienced by such random jabber, worry not!  He shall be punished!

Eventually.

Maybe.  If it weren’t kinda funny, I guess.

All 19 pages of the rest of this storyline are now drawn.  All that’s left is inking, scanning and lettering.  Yippee-kai-yay.

My son is often a font of amusement, confusion and wonder.  Like this morning for instance.  While my wife and I packed various necessities for her sojourn to visit a good friend and her family for Thanksgiving (I would be sleeping since I worked last night and must work this evening as well), the muse struck Little Dude.  Or he developed a psychological escape.  One of the other.

I say this because seemingly out of nowhere, I found myself renamed.  No longer was I “Daddy.”  Now I carried the name “Masterbrain.”  Yes.  Masterbrain.  However, my son wasn’t finished as I soon learned his new name was “Mister Black.”  I am positive we do not own a copy of Resevoir Dogs, just in case you were wondering.  And to complete the picture, the wife found out her new monicker was….  “Bouncy.”

Masterbrain, Mister Black and Bouncy.  Apparently we “catch money” like some pulp gangster-adventurers hunting down feral greenbacks in the wild or somesuch.  I had no idea.

Ugh.  After battling my own inertia and outside forces I have finally -FINALLY!- finished inking all of the remaining pages for the current “arc.”  That’s NINETEEN strips waiting to be scanned and ballooned (is that a verb?)!

I am already working on the next “arc” and hopefully this little backlog will allow me to complete it so as to provide a wonderfully seemless comic reading experience.  Good Lord willing and creek don’t rise and all that.

The Little Man hasn’t cared much for talking to that Infamous Elf of the Northern Wastes the last couple years, but apparently the school system made it clear that if you talk to the Rotund One, presents appear.

The funny thing being, this photo was taken on the Little Dude’s second visit.  The first time he saw this exact same Santa, he told The Wife and I in no uncertain terms “That’s not Santa.”  Perhaps Mr. Fluffy (depicted) or his mercenary heart convinced him otherwise.

I’ve been a bit scattered this week.

This past weekend was one of the seemingly rare opportunities for the Wife and I to have some alone time sans Little Man, who spent the time with Grandma Cindy.  So one can imagine just how little was accomplished.  Now the Ne, she is sick.  Struck low by the dreaded strep and requiring much tending to and of.

Couple that with the fact that I still can’t quite understand the absurdity of the movie Twilight and that I’ve been forced –nay! had my arms twisted and Indian Burned!– into playing ChronoTrigger for the DS and, well, you can see how it is.  I’m totally not to blame.

Anywho, expect some pics of the wondrous new Christmas Tree as well as Little Man being sadistic in his degree of morning attitude depending on whether there is school or not.  Oh, and apparently there’s a snow ball being preserved in the freezer.

Adorable, but weird.

On December 22 of 2002, after 16 hours of labor, my wife gave birth to a small boy of 5 lbs 14.5 ozs and 19″.  I knew he was destined to be the end of me since he began experiencing respiratory problems shortly after birth due to a heart valve not closing properly.  After nine days at UK’s NICU, he came home for the New Year.

Ever obstinate, four weeks later he developed pyloric stenosis.  Now, one might be led to believe I had a hand in such, but considering the doctor could not tell if I was a first-born, white male at first glance, I deny everything!

Still, it seems even in spite of ourselves, Little Dude has been an overall joy these now six years.  A very weird joy, but still one nonetheless.  Though I suspect it’s all part of his plot…  yes…

This year my corporate overlords were kind enough to spring for Cracker Barrel as a holiday meal for all the people working through Christmas at our site.  And hey, compared to the cold cut and cheese tray from a couple years back, that’s awesome.

Though I think it’s a bit telling at my level of cynicism that I’m not surprised they neglected to provide PLATES or UTENSILS with which to eat said feast.