« December 2005 | Main | February 2006 »

January 30, 2006

Experiment: Conclusive

We thought we'd give Iggy another shot at freedom on Friday. We heftily barricaded the barricade with the industrial fan, the industrial-size box of cat litter, and the industrial piece of plywood we got from George, and went merrily off to work. When we came in the door, Iggy and Oscar both came scampering back through the gap they had been clever and strong enough to create between the plywood and industrial fan. Since Iggy is not clever and Oscar is neither clever nor strong, we believe that Lily was actually the mastermind behind it all. For those of you who don't know,


Lily is on the left, and Oscar is on the right. See what I mean?

So there wasn't too much damage done in the basement, other than the requisite pile of Robbi's clothes (evidently I didn't learn the first time, and still left my stuff lying all over the place), but there was a brand new pile of delight in the living room.


Ha. Fooled you. When I said "pile of delight" I bet you weren't thinking paper towels. So, no more freedom for Iggy. No more carousing about with Oscar, drinking gin and tonics while we work our fingers to the bone trying to buy her all those stinkin chew toys. All evidence points to: crate.

Oh, and I forgot! The best part of it all was that she also ate half a box of cheeriiiiooooooos. And then had the runny poos for a day. There's really nothing more pathetic than watching a dog with big ears, a stumpy tail, and runny poos. Unless, of course, it's being a dog with big ears, a stumpy tail, and runny poos. She managed to contain herself till she got outside, but I must say our driveway is a bit of a mine field.

But really, how can you be mad at this:


But regardless. No more noshing on paper towels. Only noshing on sticks. And outside. Like this:


Posted by ribbu at 11:33 PM | Comments (1)

January 26, 2006


So - for the last couple days we've been experimenting with letting Iggy out in the unfinished part of the basement. Yesterday seemed to have gone fairly well, with only Iggy's pillow suffering a mild disembowelment. Today, when we walked in, all looked well:


Aside from the mysterious appearance of the plunger, Iggy had probably just sat on her tuffet quietly nibbling at her various toys.



The girl is a lot smarter than we give her credit for. She slipped around our ghetto barricade by going through the lowest shelf on our utility shelving unit. And then had the run of the house. Amazingly, the rest of the house remained relatively intact. She got the toilet paper roll from next to the bed (matthew's had a cold) and then decided to make a pile of my clothes in the basement. MINE, not matthew's. That would suggest, perhaps, that she likes me better, though in truth, it's probably that I'm the one who leaves my clothes lying all over the place, not matthew.


Serves me right.

Matthew tried to put a positive spin on things by saying, "You can still wear it, if you've got like a sweater or a button-down thing on to cover up the hole." Thanks, Matthew. Your underpants philosophy won't work here.

The saddest bit, though, was that she chewed up my best little hat I got from the Christian. It was a great little hat. It has matching gloves. The best little hat (I mean, look, even Lily likes it, and she's a spiteful little thing):


We have a new plan for tomorrow. It involves binding and gagging the dog, and perhaps tying her up in the rafters. That should hold her for 8 hours or so.

Posted by ribbu at 08:03 PM

January 24, 2006

Week #3

It's 11:04 pm. It's time for me to go to bed. When did I get so old? I think it was around Week 2. These guys got painted in last night - nothing too exciting, except I do love that elephant. And the octopus came out reading a lot better than it had as a black and white.

Today my dog rubbed off most of the top of her nose trying to arrange her bedding. I feel a little at fault, in spite of the fact that she is a woefully stupid dog.

I also received a whole pecan pie for using my meager talents to maybe or maybe not fix an illustrator file. If only the consumer system worked like this all the time, I could be gigantic and fat every day of the year. *sigh*

Posted by ribbu at 10:57 PM

January 22, 2006

More destruction, this is.

So, last weekend Iggy found this softball at the park. She loved it. She loved it so much, she ate it. I guess I should just be glad it wasn't a sketchbook or something.

Today we went on a walk in the woods with the Iggler and her friend Ruby. Can you tell who is winning?

Luckily, Iggy made a clean escape.

And then her Jedi powers used, the Ruby to destroy.

Posted by ribbu at 03:13 PM

January 20, 2006

Go smoke yourself

Okay, so the fish tank one is a repeat. Except that this one is called "Fish Oil". They don't call me clever for nothin. Actually, they just don't call me clever. I finished these last night after watching the first two episodes of Arrested Development, Season 1. Since we've finished watching Jack Bauer save the world, I figure it's time to watch the Family Bluth ruin it. Or, at least maintain its status quo. I have never watched the show but received Season 1 from my good friends The Christian and The Piendak. Thus far, it has lived up to the hype. Just keep them coming, Fox.


Posted by ribbu at 09:20 AM | Comments (1)

January 19, 2006

Dance, Monkey, Dance!

Believe it or not, I had some time last night to do a little coloring-in. I say "believe it or not" because I was at work til 9 trying to prep a file for some in-house printing. Turns out I get in to work this morning, and they decided they don't need it printed today after all. I love when things are apocalyptically urgent one day and then casually inconsequential the next. It makes me feel like a dancing monkey. Dance, monkey, dance!

And then, don't!

Okay, now, dance again!

Posted by ribbu at 12:26 PM

January 18, 2006

Fish Tank

So, all that talk about painting in the daily postcards was a bunch of phooey. You see, we watch 24 (con Jack Bauer) in delay mode: we get the last season's dvds so we can watch them totally compulsively, instead of having to wait every week (a whole week!) for the next person to hate. This means we have to be ultra careful not to see any promos for this year's season, and not to listen to the office chatter about who is still alive. I've decided that all of the parts that have Jack in them have gotten a little bit boring because you know he's going to make it through okay... it's all of the other people who are totally expendable that make it so exciting. So, anyway, we watched the last three episodes of last season last night (that's a lot of lasts, no?) and are feeling post-coital about it all. (I'm sure that is going to take a lot of search engine hits, maybe I should have spelled it post-co!tal, thanks for the advice, mingie). Anyway, I only got one postcard done this morning, in spite of getting up wicked early to do it. I got up, walked the dog in the rain, painted my one postcard, but then the snuggy bed looked so inviting. Maybe tonight I'll fare better.

Posted by ribbu at 07:52 AM

January 16, 2006

Week #2

So - here are my black and whites for week 2. Okay, so I'm already running a little behind, but I have Jan.1-12 already written and sent out (thanks to staff meeting this morning), so I'm not feeling too bad. If I can color these in tomorrow, I should be in good shape. (Take note: this is me being overly ambitious.)

Last night when I was drawing them, I was convinced they all really stunk. Upon second examination, only three of them really stunk, and there are even a couple I kind of like (the woman and the snail... where did that come from?). I'm having a dilemma on what I should send to Michael Bierut at Pentagram (he's like the Odin of all design) because I want it to be really good so he'll instantly fall in love with me. Yeah, well. I guess I need to face the facts and just go for quantity over quality.

And really, wouldn't I rather be in the New Yorker?

*luckily, there isn't a chance in Hel that he'll read this. If he does, uh, Mr. Bierut, just kidding.

Posted by ribbu at 10:41 PM

So this is my life

Yep. It's not so much the dog, it's the man. Look at the trouble he's causing. That poor dog just wants to hang out and be cool in her sweater. You can see me, in the middle, looking like I've totally lost my head.


Posted by ribbu at 05:17 PM | Comments (1)

January 13, 2006

Ugly and Venemous


Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.

-Wm. Shakespeare As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 1

I am lucky enough to have gotten an illustration project at work. Usually, I'm just moving rules around, aligning things, very dull stuff like that. If I do get to do illustration stuff, it's usually illustrator maps and the like (which, don't get me wrong, I love to do). But this was just a little spot for a small pamphlet thingie. The art direction was: Draw a toad, with, like, a jewel in his head, and make him ugly and venemous. You gotta love art direction like that!

Posted by ribbu at 07:15 AM

January 11, 2006

Where he's at


This is where the man's at.

He's on his way home, though, thank Jehovah.

Posted by ribbu at 03:05 PM | Comments (2)

January 09, 2006

Week #1

So ends week #1 of my new-yearsly-resolute marketing plan. I haven't actually written anything on them yet, but that should go pretty fast (say, in staff meeting tomorrow morning). I'm posting these weekly - doing them in clumps is just way easier. At the end of week one, I find myself with a surplus of images. Hooray! I completed 12 postcards this weekend so I am even a little ahead of the game - the best! But of course, it's past midnight and I guess this means I will have another week of sleep deprivation.

This dog did learn a new trick though - to keep Iggy from snuffing and snorting in my face in the morning I just need to feed her. Feed her. Not take her out on a 45 minute walk, toss her toys for her, rub her belly, etc. Nope. I still have to take her out to water the lawn and whatnot, but I still contend that this is a fantastic discovery, like electricity, or silly putty. I think some fourth graders should write about me.

And, did you see? Matthew posted a story - from the Dead Sea! It takes leaving the country to get the boy into blogging mode.

Posted by ribbu at 12:14 AM | Comments (4)

January 06, 2006

In the Grass

In which someone lurks and someone else runs out of lighter fluid.

In the grass with complex visions in our heads, we wish for paper but have to tell each other our stories and hope that they will be remembered, however approximately. Janet says she sees a rainbow but the sky is dry and the angle of the light all wrong.

I'm using my imagination, she tells us.

I'm imagining that I don't see a rainbow, says Charles.

Why are you being so contrary, Charles? says Midge.

It's how I am, says Charles. Plus, I'm trying to make an interesting point. Is what I imagine any less valid than what Janet imagines? Even if what I imagine has an uncanny resemblance to reality?

We are tired and don't want to think too hard about what seems like bad logic. Chad seems satisfied by our silence, interpreting it as a victory.

Leavenworth speaks: I think your argument is flawed, he tells Charles. You're just being contrary. We listen to you because you are smart in other contexts, such as investing. I'd love to have your sense of where to put my money. In human relations, you are spiteful and your comments uninteresting. Be quiet now.

We chew on individual stalks of wheat to pass the time. Eddie eats sunflower seeds.

Are there sunflowers here? says Franny.

Brought them from home, says Eddie. Want some?

I'd like to harvest my own, says Franny.

Suit yourself, says Eddie.

Thanks, though, says Franny, though most of us think her gratitude seems forced.

When the sky begins to darken, John suggests that a bonfire might be appropriate.

Is there wood? says Ulrich.

The forest must be full of down wood, says John.

I'll look for wood, says Sallie.

Me too, says Julie.

Thanks, guys, says John. We should have enough in no time, considering your energy and enthusiasm.

I have a lighter, says Mordachai. When the time comes, I may let someone use it.

His name isn't really Mordachai, thinks Phillip. I know it. His name is probably Phillip, too.

The girls collect the wood. Mordachai uses up all of his lighter fluid trying to make the wet wood catch. We sit around the wood in a circle. It crosses through someone's mind that lightning could strike, but it does not. We do not sing. No one feels like singing.

When the dark comes we wonder if there are ghosts.

Monica says it aloud.

There aren't ghosts, Monica, says Jasper.

He says it with such patience. I am touched. I would have taken this moment to ridicule Monica. She is an imbecile.

Then again, given that Monica, with her comment, betrayed a certain degree of vulnerability, perhaps she deserved the benefit of the doubt.

I know that, Jackass, says Monica. I was just making conversation with Jim. I'll say it again, Jim are there ghosts?

I dunno, says Jim. Want to go in the woods and make out?

Did you bring a blanket? says Monica.

No, says Jim. I bet Phillip did, though.

I did, says Philip.

Right on, says Jim. Throw it over here?

Philip does. The rest of us sit silently as Monica and Jim make out in the woods. Eventually we fall asleep.

In the morning we are surrounded by cows.

Camping is just as interesting as they said it would be, says Midge.

Are these cows dangerous? says Trista.

Occasionally cows are dangerous, says Phillip, but bulls much more so.

Is that a bull? says Trista.

No, says Phillip, no horns, see?

No, that one, says Trista, pointing at the one with the horns.

We work up a sweat, but find ourselves on the other side of the fence, eventually. We're behind the supermarket now. A refrigerator truck is unloading produce.

Let's swipe some lettuce, says Hoedel, while we're still young.

We'll each remember the camping trip differently, I imagine.

Phillip will remember the moment he lost his blanket. He changed after that weekend. He slept with all the girls from then on.

Mordichai will remember the day he lost his army.

Samantha will remember her birthday in the dark after Mordichai's failure. I read it in her journal. She was genuinely afraid and was so glad when Monica mentioned ghosts so that she didn't have to.

I'll think of it as a time of contemplation. I spoke to no one. I lurked and watched. No one knows that I was there. I am not well-liked.

I may go on to succeed in life, financially at least. I will not have peaked that night in the clearing. It was I who wet the wood. It was I who made a sound like ghosts, who recruited the cows. Who fed on the fear of my classmates.

Posted by bogenamp at 04:43 PM


So - I've made my New Year's Resolutions. Now, I know that doing so is basically like shooting myself in the foot (especially since one of them is "keep desk clean") but I'm going to try to hang with it for a while here. Maybe writing about it will strengthen my resolve...

So one of my resolutions is to market myself (as an illustrator, not, like, a streetwalker) more consistently. I've only ever really sent out one official promo postcard, and visited some people with my portfolio once. Every time I've tried, I've gotten a job, but basically that just means I haven't tried very often. So the plan is that I will produce one postcard every day and send it out as a promo card to an "elite" list of potential clients. This will keep my fingers in the inkwell and hopefully make some little chime of recognition on the other end, just because they will be originals (NOBODY sends originals). So, I've drawn and scanned round one/week one, but I have to color them in and send them out yet. And draw round two, before next week. I'm already starting out behind! There's nothing like a New Year's Resolution to make you frantic and anxious for all of January and February (when you give up, and decide to try again next year).

Posted by ribbu at 09:22 AM

January 05, 2006

Che Rulez!


My friend and geek savior has been transferring all my files to a new host (the old G3 is finally about the kick the bucket) and that's why this has been down, boring, and unexciting for the past few weeks (sorry Em!). Jose is the one who posted this communist propaganda, but what can I say - I dig it.

When I was in high school, my mother was convinced I would "run away and become a communist lesbian". So, maybe it should be more like this:

And, as Jose says, Saludos!!

Posted by ribbu at 10:19 AM | Comments (2)