Regarding Bloggers

 This is what happens when I forget what I'm doing halfway through a comic and just go with it
I like the results
I should do this more

Tech Support

All your rage are belong to us.

And now, an excerpt from an actual conversation I really had with the ever friendly people on the phone:

Me (after about a month of not receiving any help on a problem which was getting kind of big considering it was the end of the year and so on): "Hello, is Katya there?"

Ever friendly soldier: "Yes, just a second. Who's calling?"
Me: "Gail"
Friendly soldier: "...Katya isn't here."

Road Rage

 

The most artistic rage comic in existence.

Oh the self hatred

Look at this.












This is my bike.


No, there is nothing wrong with your internet connection.
Or your browser.
My bike is gone.


A mere two weeks ago my parents bought me a shiny new bike.
And now it's gone.

Let's start again.


Look at this.
Well, imagine this, I can't be bothered to draw.
I rarely draw when I'm truly angry. Only fake rage.

I am a bike.
My front wheel is missing, it was punctured and is being fixed.
My seat is missing, my owner took it home so that you wouldn't steal it.

I am the frame of a bike and one wheel.
And I am chained, frame and wheel, to a bike stand.
If you try to ride me you will encounter plenty of friction from the floor, not to mention slight discomfort in your behind.
You have no reason to steal me.
And my owner will be very upset if you do.





Please don't steal me.
I'll only be here for two days.
It was reckless of my owner to leave me chained out in a public place for so long, yes.
Not to mention she had so many chances to go out and fetch me and bring me home.
I guess she doesn't really love me.

She could have saved me.

Another Perspective for Popular Songs

Not sounding so romantic now, are you, mr. Valo?

New Bed

Yet another little story. This is what happens when I can't think of anything to draw and so just go over one of the hundreds of ideas I've jotted down that seemed good at the time (unfortunately it frequently turns out they weren't, or that I have at least forgotten their punch). Next one's gonna be funny. (Cats can't fail)

Yawn

Traitor Cat

Pep Talk

True story.

I tidied my room while waiting for this to upload...
There may be upsides to a shoddy internet connection.

Editing Movies

PRE-EMPTIVE TL;DR WARNING: This post is long

Occasionally I am asked to supervise the production of some movie for my department. The reason for this is not clear, as I have not studied media nor have any experience in this field. All the same, the task falls on me.

Now, that doesn't mean I have to do the work. Not in theory, anyways - there is a separate department dedicated to doing all this stuff, a department full of people who have passed relevant courses. Unfortunately it appears these people are semi retarded, not to mention lazy - I could figure out how to use their software and make a better movie than them in the time it takes them to squabble over who has to deal with the work this time (and once someone is chosen, you have to stick with that one person regardless of how little of their precious time they can spare you). The one time I did try to get something done by myself however, I was reprimanded. So, so much for that.

So, I find myself watching over some primitive reminder that we are indeed descended from apes as she clicks hopelessly at the raw material, quietly cursing the fact that from all the options available to her in this powerful software, the best she can come up with is fade in/out and the occasional badly timed cut. Any attempts at input or helpful advice ("don't cut there, it looks ridiculous") are disregarded because I, of course, have not passed the prestigious editing courses they have - making my presence there all the less meaningful. This will go on for a few days, with me essentially babysitting these wastes of salary without contributing anything until somehow the project is finished. At the end of this I am given partial credit for the movie, something which I would rather not have. 

...

Background over, story begin:

I was meant to go out on a kinda sorta date with someone [the "wild physicist"] recently. Half an hour before I was set to leave, and with him already waiting somewhere an hour away, these imbeciles remember to call me down to finish something super urgent. Something that could not be put off until the next day.

Very well, thus I - for we have already edited everything, I continue to assure myself, and this is a mere issue of finishing touches, which shall surely not hamper my timely departure from the base, I conclude. Ah, optimism. 

I sit down with them to only to discover that our work has mysteriously vanished. At some point over a span of 48 short hours, some buffoon managed to sift through the disorganised mess on their computers and, in the confusion, delete not only the edited movie but also the original clips.

  "No matter," says my commander upon this discovery, before aiming a charming Moroccan saying at me, the innocent victim of this all: "Where there isn't a brain, there are legs."

And so off I go in search of the original clips.

And then there I stay an hour overtime* while we make the movie from scratch.

And then off I go, in the rain, to the poor physicist who's been waiting for an hour in some random place with nothing to do.

That kinda-sorta-date went well, but... well, more on that later.

Rushed rant over.

And now, an attempt to capture my frustration in watercolour! I will speak no more of this department (for now).

Enjoy

 "But it looks fine."

*Soldiers doing compulsory service do not get paid overtime. Hell, they barely get paid.