Today’s xkcd is even more relevant to my life than it usually is, since I’ve spent a lot of time at the post office lately.
a different perspective on numb three ers
The art department at Numb3rs created the best fake comic convention I’ve ever seen for last week’s show. The level of detail was phenomenal, including things like a stack of flyers welcoming participants to the con, booths from Wizkids, and WOTC, and appearances by several different real life comic creators.
One of those comic creators, Tony Fleecs (In My Lifetime, POSTCARDS: True Stories that Never Happened) talked to the comic podcast Word Balloon about his experiences on the set. It’s an enjoyable listen for comic readers, and people who just want to know what it’s like to be on the set of a television show from the perspective of someone who doesn’t work in the TV industry every day. He also said some nice things about me, which made my sugar hangover a little more bearable.
(Thanks to reader Ethan J., for the link!)
the thursday hangover
When I woke up this morning, my head was throbbing, I felt sick to my stomach, and my whole body felt toxic.
"Oh my god." I thought. "I have a hangover."
I kicked off the covers, and sat on the edge of my bed, my head in my hands.
"This doesn’t make sense," I thought. "I drank two beers in four hours last night. What the hell?"
Anne walked into our room, holding her head in one hand, the other across her stomach.
"Oh my god," she said. "I am never eating candy again. I have such a sugar hangover."
"I am so relieved," I said. "I thought I was even more old and lame than I am, and I had a hangover from two beers."
She looked at me.
"I know, it’s a silly thing to be happy about."
We walked out into the living room together, and saw the shameful evidence of the previous night’s debauchery: fun size candy wrappers littered our dining room table. A half-eaten Baby Ruth sat on a pile of Butterfinger crumbs, and a salad bowl, that was filled to overflowing with treats for our neighborhood ghouls last night, was nearly empty.
It was a monument to excess, standing defiantly against our efforts to live a healthy and balanced life.
As I scooped up handfuls of wrappers, a half-melted Kit-Kat stuck to the side of my hand. I was revolted by the smell of it, the way it felt, the soft chocolate pressing crispy bits of delicious crunchity wafer into my skin.
"I can’t believe I thought it was a good idea to mix Nestle with Hershey’s last night," I said, the memory of a furious game of Sorry! flashing through through a chocolate-stained lens of shame.
A few minutes later, it was all cleaned up. "I’m going to go back to bed," I said, "and hope that I don’t see a chocolate-covered baby crawling on the ceiling."
