Mirth filled my belly when I read this. I want to send it as a late valentine to MHG.

So I will.

A softer world, indeed.

UPDATE: As I was typing in my girlfriend’s name, my hamfists missed a couple of keys. My girlfriend’s name and my mother’s share some letters, and were I not more observant, I would have created a situation both hilarious and hideous.

Mom: Oh, how sweet! Chris sent me a belated valentine. Oh, haha! What a weirdo he is to talk about breastfeeding and…oh God. (phone is dialed, urgently, clumsily)

I know this shirt has been around a while, but it never used to apply to me, because I would perform the within-mentioned act. Since my last such attempt went so horribly sour, I think it is now appropriate for me to own.

A life like Pac-Man’s. And Drew lays it down for people in a way that I wish I could.

I found a nice source for Aqua Teen Hunger Force, for those of you who like that sort of thing. Some nice avatar images and everything.

Meant to be a joke, this quip from my George Carlin daily tear-off calendar has sort of put my bitching this week into perspective.

“The mayfly lives only one day, and sometimes it rains.”

My boss would totally be into this PDA MUD.

Also, Ben Kingsley: the world weeps for you.

Ok. I’ve found him. My hero model for sketching. The person whose art most jumps into my brain and bashes it around like Jean Claude Van Damme in those multi-take split-kicks he does in every movie. Blood continues to gush from my brain as the sound of meat being slapped plays in repeat over inspirational rock licks.

Link ferreted away from Barry at Angst Technology.

MHG says she thinks of me when she hears Weezer. Maybe this is part of why.

“In the Garage” — Weezer, Weezer

I’ve got a Dungeon Master’s Guide
I’ve got a 12-sided die
I’ve got Kitty Pryde
And Nightcrawler too
Waiting there for me
Yes I do, I do

I’ve got posters on the wall
My favorite rock group KISS
I’ve got Ace Frehley
I’ve got Peter Criss
Waiting there for me
Yes I do, I do

I’ve got an electric guitar
I play my stupid songs
I write these stupid words
And I love every one
Waiting there for me
Yes I do, I do

In the garage
I feel safe
No one cares about my ways
In the garage
Where I belong
No one hears me sing this song
In the garage
I feel safe
No one laughs about my ways
In the garage
Where I belong
No one hears me
No one hears me
No one hears me
No one hears me
No one hears me sing this song