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Through An Artist’s Eye

Currently, one of my favorite comic strips is My Cage which is somewhat like Dilbert in that it takes place in an office. Unlike Dilbert, it focuses more on the character’s personalities, the lead being a platypus named Norman who works at an office and finds himself constantly frustrated not only by office life, but also by his co-workers.

The creators of the strip, artist Melissa DeJesus and writer Ed Powers, held two contests recently on MySpace with the prize being an appearance in the strip. There was a fanart contest, and a writing contest, which I won. The rub is that the characters are all animals, so in addition to supplying a photograph for the artist to use as a model, I had to choose an animal. Over the protests of my former coworkers, who for some strange reason wanted me to pick a koala, and my best friend, who wanted me to go with an owl (high school thing). I decided to go with a bear because I think it suits my personality and also, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bear in the strip.

Melissa has posted her version of myself and the other winners, and I like the way mine came out. The pic I sent for Melissa to use can be found here and the toon version is here. He, er, me looks like a pretty laid-back guy who needs to go to the gym a little more often. The only thing missing is a Nintendo DS 🙂

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The Force is Strong in This One…

Even though I’m probably not supposed to, I like to IM the friends I made at the last company I was at, just to see how they are doing back in the ol’ salt mine. As is the case with a bunch of screw-balls like us, some funny exchanges often ensue, but my conversation with Chris (not RavynX, BTW) this afternoon took a weird twist.

It was ten minutes until quitting time and I get a message from Chris asking if I was leaving soon. I replied yes I was, assuming nobody called. He then sent: “You are going to get a call” or something to that effect, and just as I finished reading that sentence THE DAMN PHONE RANG. I was flabbergasted, to say nothing of cheesed-off at Chris for jinxing me. I cursed Chris’ name under my breath as I put on my headset and picked up the call.

Luckily for Chris, the call was for someone else, so I transferred the call and went home on time. I left a message on Chris’ voicemail telling him how much he sucked, which probably wasn’t a good idea, since apparently he is a Sith Lord in training.

Now if it happens tomorrow, I am officially freaking out.

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At The Car Wash

Identifying people by something they do (or don’t do) is just one of those things that people tend to do, and I’m no different. Instead of their names, I could identify close friends as Wrestling Fan, Mini Driver, World of Warcraft Player, Quiet Guy, and Dude That Enjoys Killing People In Videogames Just A Little Too Much. You know who you are.

One unfortunate habit that I have acquired is that I do not wash my car on a regular basis. When your friends constantly see the layers of dust covering your vehicle, you soon become known as “Guy Who Never Washes His Car.” This has been my moniker for years back home, however I didn’t realize that it had followed me up to my new home until last Saturday.

A friend of mine was coming over to visit for the first time, and I provided directions. The last instruction being: “Look for my red Dodge Neon.” I figured this was simple enough, at least in the first month of living there, I had never seen another red Dodge Neon. The apartment was stuffy, so I decided to open the balcony door to let some air in while I did some vacuuming.

As I am doing this, I look outside and see my friend parking his truck just outside of the building. Great, I think, he’ll be knocking on the door pretty soon. I continue cleaning but hear no knock on the door. “Why hasn’t he knocked yet?” I wonder. I check outside and see the truck is no longer there. As I am pondering this turn of events, my cell phone rings, its my friend: “Hey, did you wash your car?” he asks, to which I reply yes.

I then asked if he had parked a few minutes earlier. He said yes, but he had decided that apparently the Neon was SO clean he assumed it was not mine and kept on looking for a red “covered in dirt” Neon which he did not find. Jerk.

It is now official, I am now “Guy Who Never Washes His Car.” Again.

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