No, of course this isn’t autobiographical. My boobs aren’t anywhere near that big.
Have a good weekend! Do it up — wear your best head-bag!
I’m coming out, y’all. (Just keep scrolling down, it’s a longish one.)
If I had legions of fans [note: will never happen] I would command a crowdsourced silkscreened “DUH.” t-shirt to appear in my mailbox. Then they would all wear replicas to pledge their allegiance. I think I’m going to draw myself in it from now on.
Have a thoe-riffic weekend!
Hey kids, it’s Friday! Whatever your plans are, I can assure you it won’t be as lame as this:
…and then I drew this slovenly comic. Since I know there’s only so much of this excitement you can handle, I omitted the final chapter, which involved oatmeal for dinner and Jersey Shore On Demand. You’re welcome.
And it really was the best hashtag ever: #forgottenbaseballplayers. I’m sure mine were the Most Forgotteniest.
Have a great weekend!
It’s all about division of labor, people. For example: in our relationship, I’m in charge of freaking out, overreacting, having meltdowns, and of course all the cooking (not to mention quoting Longfellow* when useful, as seen above). And he does, uh, everything else.
Enjoy your weekend, and safe canoeing! (I suppose there’s a dopey double entrendre in there but I’m certainly not gonna unpack it for you.)
* some part of the apparently endless “Song of Hiawatha“. Thanks to my mom for searing it into my brain in childhood!