(10 votes, average: 4.6 out of 5)
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- (note) What I have been doing instead of packing
- Making up for lost time
- Halfway to Rockport
- Quebec City
- Sketches on the road to Jefferson, NY
- cenotes & haircut
- clip frames
- Montreal comedy festival
- Ola
- Villahermosa
- (strip) Something or other about my vagina
- Has anyone seen my sketchbook?
- Dirty stop-out
- A history of interests
- poop club
- The last supper
- aunties’ car
- project google
- City that never sleeps my arse
- It’s only a fucking salad
- Day 2 - Halifax & Sackville
- [Local girl guides] using a digital camera as a scanner for comics and line art
- (strip) rollerskating accident
- (strip) sketch-strip of my day at the embassy
- Some strips uploaded via stolen internet
- Newcastle
- joan and skype
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- 1000 tiny things I hate
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- Jamie Zawinski
- Joe Decie
- Johnny Ryan
- Journey to Mt. Moriah
- Kate Beaton
- Lifehacker
- Marc Ellerby
- Monstro Draw
- Perry Bible Fellowship
- Sally Bloodbath
- Tales of mere existance
- The Flowerfield Unity
- Thingpart
- Very small array
- Wondermark
- Zero Punctuation
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3 Comments
I think the only thing that would’ve helped that situation was pot clanging.
yes! yes indeed! moar p07-c|4nging! that would have seen to ‘em!
how come you were the only customer in the place..? i guess 3 (triplets!?) waiters to one customer should equate to superlative service… XD
Oh god. I find it is most obvious that I am turning into my mother when we are in a group and we tell the same types of lame jokes and even say the same things out loud–at the same time. I want to bury my head in shame-filled shrimptopus in those moments.