Blast off with the Space Pussies! (This will be my last reference to pussies for a while now, promise)
I start a new job tomorrow. See, I got these bills to pay, or at least I will have many more in the very near future and as much as I want to spend my days drawing all sorts of irreverent imagery I must go out and do something completely unrelated in order to justify this existence. It’s a real pisser and a great thing all in one mixed bag of emotion, my days will be spent thinking such well trod existential thoughts as “What’s this all about?” and my evening will be spent drawing thinking “Ding Dong! I like this!” while making fast car sounds and pretending my pen is a space laser. I’m a modern grown up you see.
So, if you like the pictures I’m popping up on here, don’t fret, they’ll still be as plentiful (especially if I can get away with drawing at work, which actually happened in my last job) but my daytime won’t be as whimsical anymore. I’m also thinking about starting to do some poster prints of my work if anyone ever liked anything enough to want it on their wall. It’d be fairly reasonable price wise I’d imagine but if interested just comment and I’ll look into it.
Here is the end of my most boring blog so far - well done on getting through it, have a really wild picture of space pussies as a reward:
I am the office cowboy.
Shirt & tie. Suit jacket, a half filled ball point poised at a threatening angle in my breast pocket. A whittled down 5 o’clock shadow hints in the creases of my face, a visage well accustomed to the flash of the photocopiers impotent open topped scan of a sweaty TPS report duplicated 3 days too late. The heels of my boots constantly pock-mark the cheap patterned carpet as I thud across the office savannah surveying all that is mine.
"That excel spreadsheet is mine!" I holler. "I should really save that at some point" I then think as it does have some pertinent data that I could get in trouble for losing. Sharpest saver in the west (side of the building) they call me.
A tip of the Stetson to the lil’ lady in cubicle 3, a quick ‘CTRL-S’ on the keyboard and the task is done. No sweat. J’us another day in the badlands.
My CV proudly proclaims “Champion Paper Rustler 2005-2006”. It’s printed on cow hide. Well paper really, but I had a friend photoshop it so it totally looks like real leather.
At lunch you’ll find my hide-out in the shadow of the murky yellow dusk which constantly envelops the cafeteria. I’ll be hunkered down beside a camp fire made out of old bic biros and disused shredded paper.
Yessiree, I’m a modern, environmental, forward thinking kinda cowboy. Except when it comes to women.
IN OTHER NEWS
I’m working on a new drawing tonight, a follow up of sorts to an older picture, with monsters and cinemas and explosions and beautiful women in it, my usual thing. I do have a new idea I wanna try out but I might save it up for a friends project that’s coming up so get excited if you’re the type of lovely weirdo who does that.