I’m writing this in notepad at sydney airport. And i’ll start by saying the thing i wanted to do last blog post never happened because for one thing matthew hasn’t been around, and i haven’t been remembering it very well. As for the possibility of matthew figuring it out by reading the blog, well, i actually had to show him the post in which i pronounced him dead a few weeks after writing it, so i think we can safely say thats not going to happen. I’m still on an ever-present quest to get this comic off the ground though, i have this feeling like having a successful webcomic will mean that future employers will overlook the fact that i’m a lazy clod. The brilliance will definitely come in handy too. Must also sell T-shirts. Most of the profits from buying said t-shirts will go towards me buying myself some because they’ll be awesome. Why am i plugging my own shit when its not even for sale yet?
Lol. Plugging.
Oh yes, i should probably mention that I haven’t gotten a proper nights sleep in QUITE some time. And now i’m going to be on a PLANE. Extra fun. Wheeeeeee.
So, since parents have this obsession with knowing for absolutely certain that you’re not dead, i took to sending them a sound effect whenever i got on a mode of transport. Before takeoff, i sent them a text that said only “Woosh”. Later i was planning to send them texts saying “Vroom” and “Choo choo” for my bus and train rides respectively, but they ruined it by actually replying and requesting more details. Perhaps next time. I guess its the thought that counts.
Not even on the plane yet. This is going to be a long post. Ohhhhh yeah. One thousand australian dollars of cutting edge (SNORT) laptop technology and the most entertaining thing i can find to do is talk to myself on a text editing program. Also while we’re on the subject of laptops, fuck norton. Its the most broken piece of shit ever and its three times worse than any virus you’ll ever find. At least you can remove viruses.
I wish i was exaggerating.
But enough whining. Maybe thats exactly what i’m going to do on this plane ride. I’m going to come up with, no, FORMULATE. DEVISE some cunning marketing stratagem that will make people completely powerless to resist the wiles of this site. They will come in droves, and read my comics, and then kiss my feet. This is what will happen.
Now i’ve just gotta figure out how.
*INTERMISSION*
Ok, now i’m on the plane, and i’m breathing exclusively from my own armpits at the moment – possibly the cleanest air to be found on the plane (smells like spaghetti for some reason). You see, one of the disgusting critters in the seats in front of me has shat itself, and the smell is permeating every crevice of this otherwise sterile vehicle. The only smell both wholesome and potent enough is that emanating from my own person, so within my own shirt my nose takes refuge from the rampaging stench of the death child.
My armpit REALLY smells like spaghetti. Like wow. No idea how thats possible, i haven’t eaten anything vaguely tomato-related for many days. Maybe its some devilish beer-nuts (my normal armpit aroma) and childs-shit hybrid smell that amalgamates to something reminiscent of a homecooked meal. Now theres a thought thats more than just a little disturbing. Notice also how everything i smell like is edible.
The majority of the smell has passed, but theres a dull pain in my nasal psyche that tells me my nose may never recover unless it gets some professional help. Also who decided that airports get to charge a million billion dollars for a packet of chips?
Always get a bit sentimental on planes. Partially from awe at the speed and height and manner of my travel, and partially from memories of adventures past. Sometimes i look at my wireless connections just to remind myself that we are no longer on the earth here. We are above it.
And yet for all my awe at humanitys achievement of flight, i am pretty much the most ruthless airport patron you’ll ever have the pleasure of seeing blur past. I’ve done so much flying by now that i’ve already got my wallet phone and laptop under one arm as i approach the security checkpoint. If all the window seats are taken i’ll always select the seat at the very back, in the aisle, so that the SECOND the seatbelt sign turns off at the other end i’m standing at the door with my bags under arm. I’ve got nothing but contempt for the fools that take twenty minutes to faff about with their luggage before disembarking. Hell, out of everybody there i’ve probably got less of a life than all of them, but i don’t see fit to waste everybodys time as they do, by steadfastly placing their huge, fat, disgusting ass in the aisle, blocking all passage in any direction past them, while they take down masses of carry-on baggage from the overhead locker, presumably because they were too cheap to pay another eight fucking dollars for checked baggage.
Also clouds are pretty awesome. Conserving battery for music now.
Oh, and the slogan i came up with for my advertising campaign was “It’s probably better than whatever you’re doing now”, which is most likely true.
Thats all folks!
