Man, do we suck...

Ryan's Fireside Chats...Episode...5 I guess?

Look what I got in the mail today!

Mega Man, but you can call him Rock.

Webcomics Worth Reading - Issue #1

Let's skip the fact that it's taken me so long to actually do one of these, and just get to it, ok?

- - -

Carl and I love Zombies.  Like, a lot.  We have our own Zombie plans.  The Walking Dead is consistently on the top of our pull lists.  28 Days Later and Shaun of the Dead are two of our favorite movies. Rob Zombie was kind of cool for a while, but...meh.
The point here is that Zombies are awesome, and when something cool having to do with Zombies hits our radars, we are compelled to see what it is.  And a couple weeks ago, we got a blip.

The Zombie Hunters is a webcomic, written and drawn by Jenny Romanchuk, a lovely young woman from Sault ste. Marie, in Ontario Canada, where, as she says, "the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average."  Since we have a listener in Canada as well, maybe they know each other, as we know that all Canucks are well-acquainted.

The story chronicles the lives and journeys of a group of Zombie Hunters, people who, having no other choice, go into the post-apocalyptic wasteland and scavenge for resources.  Along the way, we get to know them quite well, even though this is only the beginning of a much larger story. 

Miss Romanchuk is a very gifted artist, as evidenced by, not only the work on the comic itself, but the other pieces in her gallery and DeviantArt page (her professional portfolio is available here).  She uses this talent to blend multiple art styles throughout the overall story, using each to enhance the mood or tone of the scene.  Her letters tain’t half bad neither (sorry, was getting a little too pedantic…had to dumb it down). 

Yes, the comic is graphic with the gore.  And they do say the fuck-word.  But for any realistic portrayal of the nightmare (or dream come true) that is the Zombie Uprising, I think this is appropriate. 

The Zombie Hunters updates consistently on Mondays, with some Thursday bonuses thrown in from time to time.  Please be sure to check out this comic.  It is…WORTH READING!

Sad story...with a possible happy ending (not a blowjob).

It's...5:54 AM on a Wednesday morning. I should be at work, getting ready to walk out the door. But I'm here at home. I haven't been to work in a week. I just shaved for the first time an hour ago. I'm a little sweaty, but that's because I've got the heat turned up and I just finished exercising. That's not important though. What is, is that I'm a bit of a wreck.

Let me explain a few things. I suffer from Depression, Anxiety, and OCD (the OCD I actually kind of enjoy...makes life a little more interesting). I'm on medication (Zoloft and Xanax), and most of the time, I do alright. But, like most depressed people, I sink pretty far down. And this week was one of those times.

Like some, not most, but some, depressed people, I have a habit of self-medicating when times get tough. Nothing illegal, of course. Just run-of-the-mill alcohol. I prefer liquor, but beer will work if I have to. That's what I did for the first half of this week. From Thursday night, until Saturday morning, I was drunk. Of course I wasn't drinking while I slept, but you get the idea. And it's a vicious cycle because I'd get drunk, feel better, sleep, wake up with a hangover, feel miserable, decide to drink again. Millions of people do this everyday, halfway successfully. But not me. I do not succeed.

I call off work. We have a few options for getting out of work unscheduled. We have sick-time, which is self-explanatory, emergency vacation, for times when you aren't sick but something bad has happened, and FMLA, which is basically not going to work to take care of someone or yourself due to a chronic problem. We build up sick- and vacation-time per pay-period, which is every two weeks. Being the champion that I am, I've not only been written up for calling off on the same day too many times, but also for falling under a certain balance of sick-time. As of this week, I'm officially out of sick-, and not only that, but will have to take leave without pay for two days. And emergency vacation can only take me so far, since I have to provide documentation of my emergency.

I don't have FMLA. Obviously I would want it. The Law states that any employee with FMLA be provided 12 weeks of unpaid leave per year, to use as necessary. Most people abuse this time, and I won't lie, I'd be one of them. In fact, I'm hoping to be one of them.

I asked my doctor about FMLA the last time I went in (which was to complain about my meds not working...which is why I'm on two now instead of just one). People generally get FMLA to take care of a family member, but it is possible to get it for yourself. The only catch...you have to be in therapy.

So, this morning, around 9:30, I'll be calling a local therapist, and scheduling an appointment. Soon, I will be therapized.

Expect updates on how all this is going.

What the H311 is going on?!??!

Obviously, there isn't a show this week. Here's why...



Also, penultimate is spelled p-e-n-u-l-t-i-m-a-t-e. Sorry about that...

Good Golly Miss Molly

As promised, here are some pictures of my new little girl, Molly.

From Molly

From Molly

From Molly

So, I made a decision...

Yeah, I've been drinking. But I made this decision while sober (hungover, but still in my right mind). This is a life-changing decision. Something that will impact me for years (hopefully) to come. Want to know what it is? Fuck off.

No seriously.

I'll tell you what it is.

Once a week, I work in a housing unit that helps give the state money. Some of the inmates work within the Dog Program. This means that for a variable period of time, these inmates (not all of them, like 15, maybe) care for dogs until they get adopted. This care involves training them. House-breaking them, teaching them to sit, stay, lay down. Whatever.

A dog caught my eye. Small, older, laid-back. I saw it on Sunday. Last night (Monday) I worked in there again, and I paid more attention to it. I asked its handler about it. It was a her, and her name was Molly. A good name for a dog, I think. She's 6 years old, a Beagle-mix, and very calm. I think she's the dog for me right now.

The best thing about these prison dogs is that, besides the training, is that they get their shots, they get "fixed," and they get accustomed to being around people and other dogs. And being in that housing unit every week, I know the inmate how takes care of her and I know that she hasn't been mistreated while she's been there.

Also, prison dogs are only $45. A good deal.

So, yeah. I'm not going to bring her home until after the first of the year, which gives me time to think about this decision. It also gives me some time to save money up to take care of her. Being as old as she is, she'll have special needs, which I want to be able to cater to.

But why do I want a dog? Companionship, more than anything else. Carl can't be around all the time, and I get lonely much of the time. Responsibility as well, since I won't be able to drink nearly as much with another life to take care of.

I'm excited, to say the least. I grew up with dogs, and I've been wanting one since my parents had to put their last pup down.

This will be updated as often as I can.