AfterWorks 3 is GO!

Check out the early designs, sketches, artwork for the third installment of Afterworks.

It's gonna be so awesome, you'll punch a hobo.

LOOKIT WHAT I MADE!!!!!! (my wife helped)

Sorry for the recent lack of postings, fellow blog viewer. I've been a little busy supporting our dwindling population problem by bringing human life into the world. Kinda puts YOUR week into prospective now doesn't it? I'm busy helping our species thrive, and your at home probably pants-less, drunk on Cocoa Pebbles and watching a continuous loop of Flight of the Navigator on TBS the SuperStation.

I envy you.

9 months ago, the oversized softball of fate was thrown at the target of life, and on July 7th, the platform fell from underneath me and I was dropped into the dunk tank of fatherhood.
Lola Belle Cooley is my new toy, and she brings me more joy than infinity hours of Flight of the Navigator. She likes to eat, poop, sleep, and she likes breasts...so we have a lot in common. I'm sharpening up my fathering skills by watching the Bill Cosby documentary, Ghost Dad. It's good to know even after my demise, I can still be a good father.
I've already started laying down the rules like a good dad should. Lola told me she wants to go to Burning Man this year and I was shocked....especially since she's only a week old and she can talk. I told her absolutely NOT, she will have to wait until she is AT LEAST 4. So she got all mad, told me I sucked, and threatened to bludgeon me in my sleep with a Lite Brite.
Ha! Kids say the darndest things!

Happy 4th of July Day!

Growing up, my family had a great ritual every fourth of July. My dad would pile the family into the car and we would drive two hours on a dirt road to the county line where there would be a row of beat-up, rust encrusted, toyota pick-ups, that had "convienently" lost their license plates. Sitting in the beds of these trucks, were our local sketchy illegal fireworks salesmen.

These men were lost souls, rejected from society, and forced to sell their illegal Mexican wares far from the outstretched arms of the law. We would walk along the row of truck beds, inspecting the merchandise as if we were at Wal-Mart...a very VERY scary Wal-Mart. I remember once a guy tried to interest my dad with a box of M-80s, and when he didn't look interested, offered to sell us something with a little more "punch". A Hand Grenade.

These men were modern day pirates...well at least some of them were missing body parts like pirates. There were always about 12 to 13 guys, and there probaly wasn't a full set of teeth between them. Every year, the same guy was always parked on the end of the row. I soon came to realize HE was the reason we came out here every year. We gave him the nickname of "Old Faithful." Not just because we were sure to see him every year like clockwork, but because he looked like he too had been blown up every 8 minutes. He was propped up in a lawn chair in the bed of his truck, knawing on beef jerky with his good tooth. His lazy eye always looked South, like a broken compass, while his other eye looked East, through an old pair of binoculars he would use to watch out for cops. It looked like he had used his fake right arm, to construct his fake left arm . It consisted of extra long cardboard tubes stapled together,wire coat hangers, and salad tongs on the end. His fake right arm was a plastic bloody arm halloween prop with a motion sensor inside it. Every time he moved it, his arm would cackle then wish you a Happy Halloween.
My dad would make us stand there and stare at Old Faithful, until he noticed we weren't buying anything, then Old Faithful would start cussing our family out in the jibberish language he spoke. That's when we knew it was time to leave. We would walk along the dirt path back to the car, empty handed. Then my dad would turn to us, look us in the eye, and sternly state..."THAT is why you don't buy fireworks."

Who are the People in your Neighborhood...?

Driving to and from work everyday, I've noticed a consistant cast of sketchy "characters" that line the main drag I take. And I'm not the only one. If I mention to a co-worker that "Antennae-Head" is sitting in his usual chair, they know exactly who I'm talking about and where he is.

Here's one of my favorites, "the Strawberry Pimp".

This pimp struts along the main blvd, in full pimp limp, in his chains, and gold, and everything. He's straight out of SuperFly. Sometimes he's dancing, and sometimes he's using his pimp cane to direct traffic like some kind of pimp traffic wizard magically making traffic lights change.

I was stopped at a stoplight at a corner this morning, and a glimmer caught my eye. It was sunlight reflecting off of the Strawberry Pimp's gold $ necklace and he was standing right next to my passenger's side window staring at me like the above picture. I was so excited to see him, because everyone knows when you see a pimp, your supposed to make a wish and it might come true. But my excitement was cut short. While staring at me....Strawberry Pimp pushed his jacket back with his hand in his pocket to reveal a giant handcrafted wooden knife handle, at least 8 inches long. I guess I was frozen because the car behind me honked because the light changed and I didn't notice.

Moral of the story: Nothing gets your day off to a great start better than a pimp threatening to cut you.

New Yorker Cartoon Contest

Every week me and my bud/co-worker, dancer/choreographer Dan Scanlon , enter the New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest. The New Yorker supplies the cartoon, we supply the caption for it. We mail in our caption, then send our "alternate captions" to each other. The alternates are jokes that would never get picked in a million years, even though the ones we send it never get picked either......stupid unfunny New Yorker......grumble grumble.... ENJOY

Mom, I'm okay.....but something's happened to the jet.

I'm late for dinner again?.......aww chute.

Honey, I'm literally coming out of the closet. I am gay...to the EXTREME!

Please let me stay.....I just can't handle being ejected again.

My partner's chute didn't open and he's in your front yard. Do you have a garbage bag?

Evening ma'am. Can I tell you about my EXTREME friend, Jesus Christ?

Honey, my midlife crisis is over now.

Sorry I'm late, there was a backup on the Highway to the Danger Zone.

I bet your wondering what that explosion noise was.

Wait a second.....This isn't the baseball game.

Brought to you by the number Se7en....

Yet another Inappropriate Golden Book for Kids

Cintiq Doodling

In this paperless digital age, I've been keeping a file on my computer desktop for random doodles, since there's no such thing as scraps of paper anymore. This one filled up finally.

And now, I keep trying to shake my wacom cintiq to erase the picture but it won't go away.