{Housing Type Thingies}



For those of you who know, my life is a little crazy right now: mostly coz i’m not quite sure where I’ll be living next September. I applied to grad schools and have yet to be accepted to one. Which, while terrifying, is exhilarating, and has really made my stand on my own two feet and has strengthened my sense of sense, my personal faith and beliefs, and my relationships for sure (my poor boyfriend and mother, good Lord, have both been on the receiving end of many tearful phone calls). I’ve watched far too much How I Met Your Mother and taken breaks from writing. I’m taking a very well timed vacation. I’ve gone shopping. I’ve gotten really good at self care. I’ve gotten pro at crying and looking like I haven’t been.

But through all of this, my friends, my family, and some wonderful institutions have really helped me to realize: I’m gonna be okay. Life may look completely crazy. And I may sob. But… at the end of it, I’ll be much better for that.

I hope you find the same.








Right now, this is kinda my life. Especially in regards to writing. One moment, I’ll be absolutely fine: absolutely, completely fine. And the next. . . EVERYONE IN THE WORLD IS BETTER.


And then I’m the coolest person ever.


It’s a very odd state to be in. That’s all I’ve got this week, guys.


P.S. I will attempt to keep posting while I’m away these next weeks, but I’m not making promises.

{Dog Sitting Gone Wrong}


ME: (staring at “Kennel  —>” sign as we pull into the parking garage at Universal CityWalk) Kennel?

THE BOY: Yeah, people leave their puppies here so they can walk around.

ME: O___O THEY DO??!?

HIM: … y-e…e-e-s…

ME: Let’s go free them!

And that’s how this happened.

Enjoy your day! Thank you!

{Life is Alright when You’ve Got Friends}


So, I’m having a hard time of life right now. I feel very exposed and vulnerable typing this, but I haven’t been accepted into any of the grad schools I’ve heard back from (granted, I still have three to hear back from, so maybe of them will be THE ONE) and I just got word that the press which was going to release my novel for serial publication won’t after all, because they shut down.

Through all of this, I have learned I have THE MOST EXCELLENT friends. Who are cool with offering to come over and sit with me. Who try to find me across the crowded Megacon. Who are okay with knowing I’m okay, but I need to sit at home, be alone, and just cry for a couple of hours.

This post is for them.

Thanks, guys.

You make it all better. Even when you can’t help except by being there, you do more than you know.

Enjoy your day.

{Ren Faire}


Hi everyone! Happy Monday / Saint Patrick’s Day!

I went to a Ren Faire this weekend and it was MAGIC.

I know it’s vaguely nerdy, but I really don’t care. I dressed up. . .


Got my hair did


Met a mermaid


Watched people dance


And in general had an amazing time.

But the hilarious thing was, anything that happens there, you kinds of just accept. Dude walks by as a storm trooper in a kilt, you kind nod and say, yup. That happened.


And then sometimes, you walk by a fairy, playing a fiddle… And you dance.


And that was my weekend. How was yours?

(Thanks to my good buddy Matt Caulder who is pretty bangerang himself but is also married to one of the coolest people I know for the photos).

Enjoy your day!

{Jogging Fellas}


Don’t lie ladies. We oggle too! And often times, a fella will have a very similar reaction to us ladies when we get unwanted oggles.

Oggles. #brilliant

I apologize for the briefness, but my brain is tired after a particularly intense life-week. Remember to be kind and gentle to yourself, and to those around you.

Have a lovely gorgeous day.

I’ll stop moralizing at you now.

{Spanx: Reverse Feminism Part One}


Happy Monday!

You ladies and fellas and others know: we can’t talk about one side of the problem if you don’t talk about the other. (Plus I had a dude or two IM me and say, I alone can’t be the problem. No, fellas, you are not, singlehandedly the problem.) So let’s talk reverse feminism. This is part one, I had another comic planned, but going to the mall this weekend prompted this topic becoming a two-parter.

The stocking and body shapewear company, Spanx, has come out with a men’s line. I spotted it this weekend in the Dillard’s in the Oviedo Mall and my first reaction, quite honestly, was to bust out laughing. The idea was so silly to me! Men? In glorified hosiery?

And then I realized something much darker:

ONE: that the idea was silly to me, but that I don’t blink twice when I think about my fellow women shoving and shunting their beautiful, normal bodies into tiny pieces of nylon.

TWO: this is where we are now, and I highly doubt many others find it silly.

Because, yes, I can write all I want about expectations of women to be constantly made up and in heels and always being looked at and all of that is WELL and TRUE. . .

But then there’s the fella-related half of humanity who is now being marketed

and, oh, yeah,
“make-your-dude-smell-like-a-dude-and-not-a-lady” scent stuff

And I have to wonder: did we cis, straight women create this? With metrosexuality? With our desire to make our men possess Heath Ledger level hotness?

Is this something humanity forces on each other? Did we ladies create metrosexuality as much as fellas may have started certain aspects of feminism?

I had hoped Spanx on men might create an open discussion. . .

. . .but maybe it’s just another door slamming on freedom of self.



{Feminism, Part One}


Hey everybody! All right, ya’ll, I warned ya: the Blob is taking on some honest (as inspired by the brilliant Robot Hugs and the always courageous Brene Brown) stuff now. Today, feminism.

So here’s the “too long, didn’t read” version:

Just because a lady wears a skirt doesn’t mean you get to stare at her legs.
Just because she wears a tube top means you get to comment.
And comments on appearances aren’t always appropriate.

There’s also this video, which I LOVE—feminism from a dude? YES PLEASE.

Also, a couple of people I know run THIS twitter feed, which handles a lot of the similar issues discussed below, with some other rad, controversial topics.

The longer, frustrated word bubble of vulnerability is here:

I’m a lady.
I work in an office.
I wear makeup.
I wear heels.
I wear skirts.
Because I like to feel pretty.
For me.

For me.
Not for the janitor.
Not for the security guard.
Not for the other guys in the building.
Not for the macho guy in the gym.
Not for my male coworkers
(who, yes, occasionally make comments that I nervously laugh at,
because I’m just now learning how to stand the heck up for myself)
Not for my female coworkers
who make more comments about what I wear
than the male coworkers.


and not for my boo.
Whom I adore.
But let’s be honest. . .
He’s the kinda guy who thinks plaid is okay to wear with stripes.
True story.
(BUT he’s that kind of feminist-dude-man, which is wicked awesome
and he likes Downton Abbey.

No, I look good for me.

Again, learning to stand up for myself.

Which is why, when I wear a skirt,
I don’t want you looking at me like I walked outside wearing a sign that reads





I want you to hold me to the same level of respect you’d give your

Look at me and think


Look at me and think

“Good dresser”

Look at me and think

“Human being.”

Because that’s all I’m trying to be:

a human.

Feminism is not about down with the male establishment.

Feminism is about women
not tearing each other down
and about men
letting us share in their privilege.

Because we’re equal.

Not better.



{Not a Comic: Thoughts on being an Artist}

This is really just a brain dump, that I may or may not illustrate.

Sometimes, being a writer, and being smart, and being creative sucks and is so painful. Truman Capote may or may not have said about “In Cold Blood” that when he was writing his book, all he could do was cry and think about how good his book could be. I do this same thing. But the problem is ART: writing, creating, rewriting, recreating, re-arting: it means sitting down. It means taking the punches. It means working and working and working til you cry and doubt yourself and think you’re no good but you keep going anyway.

You keep going despite what you feel about yourself.
As a woman, you keep going despite that time of the month.
You keep fighting against the dark.
You just keep writing. No matter what.

You keep going despite the bad thoughts in your head.
You keep going despite no MFA programs so far accepting you (and all the people who tell you, don’t worry you’ll get in somewhere, well meaning though they are)
You keep punching away at the status quo, the what ifs, the “don’t-you-know-your-art-form-will-be-obsolete-soon”. You keep trying.
Just keep art-ing. Creating.

And that’s really hard. Whether anyone reads or not, notices or not, there you are, your own little ship in the distance, pushing forward. You keep being funny and deep and introspective and wondering because that’s who you are. That’s what you need.
Despite the little voice in the back that tells you you aren’t good enough.
There’s another voice deeper telling you that you ARE.

Yes, ignorance is bliss. Yes, life would be SO MUCH EASIER if you were dumb.
Life would be SO MUCH EASIER if you just sat down, took the damn office job, and accepted 80 plus years of status quo: diets, white picket fences, and an eventual pill addiction to just make your sad, addled brain quiet.

But you won’t. You love heartbreak like you love joy, because it helps you remember why you write.
The day that things are different is the day that matters.

Fight. . . against the dying of the night. . . or some such nonsense.

On another note, there may be some changes here soon. I’ve been encountering a lot of BRAVE AS HELL comic blogs out there (RobotHugs and Hyperbole and a Half) that actually discuss… well, real stuff. Real problems the artists have. Depression. Identity. And, along with learning a lot more about who I am and about myself as a person, I realized… Maybe I should make my blog/comic/thing more brave. More real. More about things I genuinely struggle with and don’t know how to process. More… human. So heads up: messy topics, human topics, important topics are coming up. Real stuff.

Because the only way to acceptance, love, and understanding, really, is transparency and vulnerability. Maybe, if I want to love and understand the dark places of myself, I need to make them, well, a lot more transparent. Vulnerable.

Make it so.