Awww!

courtesy of ridiculously talented clio chang.

Sometimes things are just universally cute. And no, I'm not talking about the filthy barista cranking around his apartment at 3AM. I'm talking about his ghost friend. I want a ghost friend. It's almost friggin halloween for gods sake. Where is my cute ghost friend?!

That's it, Great Pumpkin. You wanted to know what to get me for Hallow's Eve? There you go. Adorable, cuddly, Boo-berry esque, and likely delicious tasting ghost friend. Hopefully pumpkin spice latte flavored. Pull some strings!

And that glowing has got to be solar powered or a result of the primordial ether of basic goodness from whence we all come...either way, you won't need to turn on the basement lights any more so Yay, cost effective and energy efficient!
Cute cuddly ghost friend, you know how I feel. How long will you make me wait??

Invention re-do request

So apparently it didn't rain for the first month after tires were invented. Because wet asphalt and round slippery rubber things do not a sufficient stop make.
I believe Shakespeare said that.

MILLION DOLLAR IDEA OF THE WEEK

Hot Hobos!

Maybe in calendar form, like in that British teadrinking naked ladies movie, where they're like, "We're doing this to save our friend from cancer...even though we're a group of at least 15 people so couldn't we just take up a collection instead?" ? (that punctuation is correct. Check the Nasdaq if you don't believe me. And yes I know that movie is based on a true story. Suck it, cancer!)

Or maybe a quarterly publication with hobo interviews and steamy pics (for fan service)?

Chibi of the Week

When I was about 11, I got a sweet new 10 speed - read: first bike without training wheels - that was black and silver, with neon pink styling. It ruled and everyone who saw it was hugely jealous. And rightly so.

The problem?

I was kind of a short 11 year old and my feet didn't really touch the pedals unless the seat was all the way lowered and even then I was straining with my tip-toes.
Hiding this from my parents was hard enough...but actually getting the thing up and hoisting myself onto the seat and then moving it forward was nothing short of a Herculean feat of determination that I think required the use of a magic flute I had lying around.

One day, I was riding (well, pushing and jumping at) the coveted 10 speed around at a family member's house (I had used a porch step to tip myself into the seat) and I suddenly lost a jelly sandal. The jelly had been just thick enough to give not only proper traction, but the full length of limb necessary to properly power the bike.

I felt a terrible white hot fear in my stomach and almost like I might faint. And then...a moment of clarity.

I was obviously going to die, yes, but I didn't have to flail around like a scared baby and make my last moments horrifically embarrassing. I could go down with dignity.
The bike was losing momentum. I only had a few seconds left now. I thought about how I had begged for the bike, even though I knew I wasn't really big enough to ride it yet and realized we all have dreams. Big dreams that maybe we're not quite ready for, but as long as we keep dreaming, even if we die in a horrible bicycle-squishing-our-guts-out-through-our-nostrils accident, that's what makes the dream and living all worth it.
Seconds later, the bike stopped and tipped sideways into the grass.

I'm safe, I thought for a second. My belief has carried me through to a nice soft grass landing.
But not to be.
My upper torso hit the grass, but my right leg - and the bike on top of it - hit the scratchy new sidewalk concrete like a bag of melty ice cubes. I heard them break. It was awful.


I looked down because I couldn't feel my knee, and saw a chunk of it was missing. Somehow, despite landing in the grass, my chin was all scratched up (I think it was the handlebar - that wicked evil 10 speed).
I dragged myself to the porch (I had only gotten as far as the sidewalk in front of the house) and examined my knee.


"I can see the bone!" I yelled, my eyes darting around in a panic for the nearest adult.

That night when my mom picked me up, I had a lot of band-aids. And a lot of donettes in my tummy. Apparently they're the only thing that keep knee injuries from feeling like the icy hand of death. Thanks, wicked 10 speed.

Chibi of the Week

James Coburn Edition

James Coburn is one of the coolest actors ever. He always looks like he's ready to throw down with a mountain lion if he has to, but halfway through he'd probably be like, "Screw this - I'll buyya beer!" And then they become best friends and tear up and down the countryside, stirring up trouble in a drunken cloud of good-natured revelry wherever they go.

If you've never seen Duck, You Sucker (also billed as A Fistful of Dynamite) do yourself a favor. Get a Netflix account and watch it. It's amazing. Plus, it contains 2.5 hours of what is probably the best, funniest, most enjoyable, honestly awful accents ever portrayed in a major motion picture by the dainty Rod Steiger.

He really gets going around the 1:35 mark.

In spite of (and in part Due To) that accent, it's a truly moving and genius movie and one of my favorites.

In my mind, if Chibi met James Coburn, he would instantly fall into a Rod Steiger-ish accent. You know, just to make Coburn feel at home. Like he was back in the American southwest, shooting movies and chumming around with drunken mountain lions.

Chibi of the Week

(of the Wibi?)

Some have undoubtedly noticed by now, that the depiction of the most rad dinosaur ever, Tyrannosaurus Rex that is this site’s mascot is not exactly the most chibi thing you ever saw.

Let me explain.

In Japanese culture (mainly via anime and manga, Japanese comics/graphic novels), chibi indicates something that is cute, small and childlike – often connoting the super deformed style of drawing/animation that makes characters that are “normal” into caricature versions that are short, stumpy and adorable.

This is often done to express extreme emotion – typically rage or having a big crush on something. (images property of the radical Kentaro Muira, not me).

Not surprisingly, people LOVE this style of art. Seriously, just type “Naruto” into google and you’ll see a chibi version of one of the characters in the first 5 images or so.

I, too, am highly addicted to all things chibi (and kawaii, but more on that later).
A few more examples for ample cuting out over.(images property of the amazing Shirow Masamune, not me).

So, back to what I was saying, my T-rex isn’t that chibi. It’s sort of cute, and kind of smallish but really it’s just a crap version of a good T-Rex drawing.

This is due to my own shortcomings as an artist – don’t blame Chibisaurus!

DON'T BLAME HIM!

One of my main goals right now is to learn to draw and well. So I hope someday soon to have a much more stylistically adroit version of Chibisaurus that I'm unembarrassed to flaunt all over the world. But, until that day, we’re all stuck with “5 year old tries to draw their dog then changes it into a horse, then changes it into a dinosaur” Chibisaurus.

And, with that – a toon! Chibi has a life, a very weird, naughty life and that probably should never be shared, but too bad. Without further ado, the first Chibisaurus Toon: