Midweek madness. I must be coming down with something - i'm putting up a comic mid week... in COLOUR
(ey don't get used to it... I never won a colouring in competition in my life)

How I found the time I do not know... I've got a list on my whiteboard a mile high...

I've just got to address the first one now... Anyhow I never meant to bombard you with so much nipplage, but thats the way the cookie's been crumbling...

ey leave us a comment in the daily doodle if you want me to draw a picture!

All this talk of nipples! There must be something in the air because I've been on the receiving end of more than my fair share of nipple cripples lately. People gravitate toward them like moths to a flame - in affection and aggression alike...

The days of pretending to be a code monkey are over. Most of Argh! is finished (bar the several thousand bugs that need ironing out as people discover them) and it's back to regular comic action! I found I couldn't draw hands all over again after spending several weeks immersed in PHP. It took me a while, but eventually I overcame that problem...

while ($hands == "shit"){
reDrawHands("well");
}

Wow? It's been that long? I still love you, really I do. I've just been so busy lately, you understand? you understand.

If you want to see some of what I've been working on, head over and join the Argh!

So no comic this week, but here's a peak and here's another peakat some artwork I just finished for a damage little zine known as A5. (yeah i'm bringing in the word "damage". I think it's the damage...;) These posts may or may not contain nipples, so proceed at your own risk.

This "work" shit will all blow over soon and we can get back to our regularly scheduled program, but in the mean time, why don't you leave me a comment or two on the daily doodles and make me draw some ridiculous shit!

So theres a lot of new things on the site which I won't go into right now (but the daily doodle is now in VERSION 2, and the Argh! ImageForum is now integrating all your myspace buddies - I'll expand on these later). Heaps has been going on since that rainy evening since we last spoke. So much knowledge to pass on, but time doesn't permit me (well my houseguests don't permit me - they want me to come out and play)

I miss you already... your comments, your emails, your sweet aroma. I hope you all had a great Easter. I have to say though, it didn't turn out quite how I expected

There was a guy in grade four named Joel who was the coolest kid in my school. He had an undercut - an undercut with trax! He had the most awesomest happy pants - the kind that would make MC Hammer wet his knickers. He strutted, with steely gaze, the mean pathways between the tuckshop and the little oval. His chilling 'tude would send the girls swooning for a pash, and the guys gushing for a chance to get invited to sleep over and play on his Atari Lynx. It couldn't get any cooler - and then came Kris Kross.

The morning was like any other. We'd gathered behind the toilet block, taking the cash out of our lunch bags to substitute the maternally planned "Salad Sandwiches" for a more wholesome packet of Toobs and a Breaka Milk. We just sparked up a couple of "Big Boss" cigar candies and had thrown the morning's first marbles when we were distracted by a blinding light. Our eyes surely couldn't be deceiving us... This image of beauty and perfection can only be real. The eyebrows of the coolest kid in school were shaven in a holy alignment of trax previously unknown outside of the glitz and bling of the inside of Kris Kross cassette booklets.

For one brief day Joel, the coolest kid in the universe had transcended the clouded and futile cool of the material world and entered the universal cool normally reserved for gods and celestial bodies. Maybe you think I'm over exaggerating, but if you've never seen eyebrow trax in person, you'll never understand.

The story doesn't end there however. (Tragically they never do) Joel, like Jesus before him, was shortly thereafter crucified by a society which didn't understand him. After his mother shaved his eyebrows completely off that evening, forcing him to go to school with mascara eyebrows, Joel was sentenced to spend his remaining primary school days hanging out with the nerds and weirdo's. (Yeah us) The collapse of the global HappyPant industry followed soon after.

All we have left to remind us of that golden age are those rare 57 minutes when we miss the bus

I'm free! I'm free! I've finally finished watching every episode of Heroes that currently exists. I can finally get back to my life, spend time with my family, change my clothes etc.

The show hit a special nerve with me, because like the characters in Heroes, I too have a secret.

I'm a Prime-Time PreCog.

Somehow I have aquired the ability to dream the outcome of primetime TV shows. For example, when "My Name Is Earl" was first advertised, I dreamt that I found $100,000 in US dollar notes and hid it in the dashboard of my car. When I checked the dreamdash later, It was gone! I dreamthought about it for a moment and decided it was my karma for trying to hide it. True Story. I also had a dream about a week before Heroes came out where this chubby Japanese guy in an elevator manifested this blue-fire-plasma-time-inhibitor from his hands when he concentrated real hard. Everything else became frozen in time but me and him.

So I, like the characters in Heroes have a super power. When I dream, I can see into the future! Well I can see into the present... I can see into the present during prime-time programming... Still it's not a bad super power. Better than this guy's anyway.

So, a comic huh? Why not sit back and enjoy these Jiggly Bits

Everyone spends a bit of their life drinking on a weekly basis. (Well everyone except straight-edgers who inevitably replace this phase with either A) a Rap-Rock phase, or B) a period of bad haircuts & self loathing, brought on by the unbearable comfort of having two loving parents and nothing to rebel against - however I digress.)

Most kids go home at a reasonable hour, or at least move on to the after party to melt their brains and tell complete strangers they love them, but there's always one guy trying to get back into the club at 4:37am for that one last shot at cherry pie - Are you The Last Binja!?