All right, fuck-nuts. Here’s what’s goin’ down.

I think the time for being incredibly over-dramatic is at an end. I know I’m fucking sick of it. So here’s the new news. Earlier this month, I finalized some plans and am awaiting the return on some applications for me to (wait for it) go BACK to SCHOOL. Shocking, yes. Is your mind blown? Mine is. There’s brain and fecal matter everywhere,,, I don’t really know why the fecal matter is there, but whatever, shit happens. (Note the double entendre)

But back to school… I’ve seen the repercussions played out on people who decided to drop out first hand. Hell, I lived that. But the greater difference was for the people I know who’ve gone to college and used that time and experience to build fantastic lives. My sister is a shining example of that. Shelly is another such example, though more grounded and minus the children.

But what now? Student loans and FCCJ for four semesters and 42 credits until I can continue my education at a higher institution . Art school. Art is one of those things in life that I just can’t do without at all. Graphic art, music, film, and the written and spoken word. I’m drawn to it, what can I say? (Pun intended)

So, I’ll be dropping down to part-time before too much longer (two weeks at the latest) so I can devote my time fully to school. It’s gonna be tough, but I’m prepared to hang in there and hold tight for this new chapter in my life.

==

I’ve been writing practically non-stop since I moved out and I think I’m ready to start making pages for no/fly/zone and work on demo comics and random fun for Grey Matter. I’m also about to do a slight redesign on noflyzonestudios.com, so look forward to some changes for the better. I’m really excited about finally showing off what I’ve planned for the site and I think you guys are gonna like it too.

argo. (mtc)

I want to stab people at work.

A public forum where anyone not too retarded to operate a computer is probably not the most docile–or even safe–environment for me to make such a statement, but I’m a little peeved so I think I’m a little more than entitled to voice my opinions.

Until last week, I was set to take over supervisory duties in the merchandising duties for my supervisor while she’ll be gone on maternity leave. I wasn’t really enthused about taking over since most of the other people in the store refer to the Merchandising department as a group of lepers loosed from their cages. My health was deteriorating, my chest felt like I had a grenade sitting where my heart was. I remember the feeling from when I had really high blood pressure before. Of course this time, I can readily identify the origin of the stress. It’s work.

There’s an older woman at work who constantly tells everyone around her to get the fuck out while they still can. Myself included. Her words become more and more true whenever she speaks. She can’t leave yet because she’s paying off a loan, so she yells at people and asks “Why are you still here? Leave while you still have your mind intact”. I can’t keep working in this fucking place. I don’t want to become one of those mindless slaves that shuffles in like a zombie for the paycheck, or worse, a brainwashed moron who gladly relinquishes their individuality for the sake of the mighty machine. It’d be different if I didn’t think so much about how fucked I’m getting by staying there.

But the real question isn’t that I should leave, it’s what do I do afterward? What do I study? What do I do for the cash for school? Should I bite the bullet and hope another company won’t fuck me as hard as Best Buy in terms of freedom or do I drop to part time? Would a student loan be a bad idea? Should I even stay in this black hole known as Jacksonville? I’m wracking my brain on the subject.

==

Enough for today, kids.
argo. (mtc)

After 34+ years working for the Navy at Naval Air Station, Jacksonville, my dad, the public affairs officer for the base, retired today. And in celebration of his retirement, he left. He got in a car with his wife, and fucking left. Don’t dare take this the wrong way, I’m more proud of my father than anyone I can possibly think of, and there’s no one on the planet I look up to more. But my idea of a dream vacation was to hop in a car and drive for a long, long time. Dad’s driving cross country for six weeks. Envy is not normally an expression I wear, but I am as green as the motherfucking Hulk.

But God bless him on his trip. I hope he has fun.

However, there was one thing about his trip that would affect me more than making me extremely jealous: my cat is still in town. SO! In my new house that Zac, Jackie, and I are renting, we now are the proud keepers of one giant orange mop of fur and teeth that goes by the name of “Max”. My jealousy has been calmed with the presence of Max at my feet.

==

So, I catch a break at work and just when I think things are starting to look up, I get pelted by a flying turd. I’ve been drafted, NOT ASKED, but TOLD, that I’m on truck duty again.

Fuck me.

If one were to say I’m a little angry about it is the understatement of the fucking century. I am in fear for my back, my neck, and my knees. I like those body parts. I’m 22, I can’t have them breaking. I need them! Do me a favor: if one day next week, you’re walking along and you hear something out of the distance that sounds like the words “FUCK!” in the distance, it’s only me. Just send help. I don’t need the whole “I hope you get better real soon” or the “Aww, poor Mattie can’t walk” or the “Where’s the money you owe us you bastard” bullshit. Send ice packs, heat wraps, painkillers, and coke. I will be fine.

later kids.
argo. (mtc)

Stress at work has been a little overbearing. Work does that to me. Luckily, I’m given two days off in a row. Albeit, those days are Tuesday and Wednesday, it’s still two days I can unwind and have a little fun without worrying about someone bitching and freaking out about some menial bullshit. It’s tiring. For months now, I’ve wanted to move on to another area in the store, but my hard work goes unnoticed and unrewarded. A little more pay, a little more recognition, a little less bullshit… that is NOT asking too much, I think. And I like working at Best Buy, most of the people there make the random bullshit seemingly go away, but it’s mounting up. Things are gonna come to a head sooner or later, and someone is going to go home unhappy. I just hope that’s not me.

Luckily, I’m getting an extra few days off coming up, MegaCon is this weekend down in Orlando. I can’t really afford it, but I know I need it. I leave Friday morning and it will be well worth it.

I’ll be back Sunday evening. Be good, kids.

argo. (mtc)

Coming back from a long time without really putting pencil to paper and expecting to be just where you were before the time off is a fucking dream. I’ve been sketching a lot for the last couple of days trying to get back into the groove of things. I’d say things are coming back to me quicker than expected, but straight poses are easy. It’s the dynamic shit I want to get back to.

I think that’s why so many artists like drawing Spider-Man. He can be in a completely dynamic pose and it will seem completely normal. Not a lot of other characters can say such a thing. So if and when I can make a good looking dynamic Spider-Man piece, I think I’ll be ready.

It makes me excited, thinking about putting the comic back up. I’ve obviously wanted to do it for a long time, but now I’m living in an environment that I think helps my creative juices get flowing.

If at all possible, I’d like to do a couple website tweaks (CSS tweaks, color changes, new title bars or menu icons) before I get to doing the comic. I’d also like to show the Grey Matter part of the site a little love. I think I’ve mentioned before that the story originally assigned that subdomain was evaporated before it even began, so I’d like to insert demonstration comics there for easy access. Y’know, demo comics, short stories, illustrated stories, that sort of thing. The gallery will probably get a face lift too.

==

March 7-9 I’ll be in Orlando. I’m going to MegaCon. It’s been two years since I’ve last been to the con, and I’m looking forward to hanging out with the crew again.

FUN!

argo. (mtc)

I moved on Saturday. Crazy shit, right? I moved out of my parent’s house last weekend. I’ve spent the last 22+ years living under my father’s roof. And now I’m out. I can’t say I don’t miss it, but I also can’t say I don’t regret it.

Zac, his girlfriend Jackie, and I are renting a house in Orange Park. It’s been an interesting experience already, as I’ve been charged with the handling of the utilities. Whee. We’ve already found a couple problems dealing with utilities, namely our faucet connection the cold water to the washer in the laundry room. Boring shit, I know, but important.

At first we were gonna stick with Clearwire until the contract that Zac had with them ran out, but our current situation leaves us with absolutely NO FUCKING SIGNAL. We spent two hours on the phone with some hapless dipshit from Clearwire arguing over why we shouldn’t be charged a cancellation fee. It was like arguing with a dog over why Napoleon lost at Waterloo. And finally, after a gut-wrenching four days, I have internet again. The Comcast guys came out with great speed and set up a super charged hi-speed internet connection alongside a digital phone service and the digital cable service. Now this house can become a home.

==

So, after years of working in the merchandising department at Best Buy, and several months of begging to move to another department, I have recently realized that I’m not going fucking anywhere. My pregnant supervisor is going on maternity leave right before a major remodel in the store and I am the most qualified person to take her place while she’s gone. Fuck. I like merch and all, but after nearly two years of doing the same droning menial job, it becomes something where dragging a rusted knife across my wrists starts to seem like a worthwhile alternative.

I wonder why, how even, some people stay on there. I go in this morning, for instance, and notice that last night’s truck was never finished. The truck looked as though it was just emptied and then everyone said, “Fuck it!” and left. I learn that only three of the six people on the truck actually worked on it, while two of the others dicked around and one didn’t bother to even show up. These people still have their jobs. These people make more than I do. I want to stop and scream at them, “HOW!? How do you do it!? How can you do nothing and manage to keep your job!? Tell me your secret, lest I kill you and eat your brains to gain such knowledge!!!”

I’ve also just found out today that my GM is leaving the store to go back to Orlando, permanently. From what I understand, the man taking his place will be the GM that was in place just before I started at Best Buy, who happens to be a douche of gargantuan proportions. So much so, that my supervisor, Angela, has stated that if that is indeed the case, she may not come back from her maternity leave.

With that in mind, I get to play supervisor from May through July… Guess who’s gonna have a brain aneurysm?

==

keep safe and no playing in traffic, kids
argo. (mtc)

It was at 28 degrees this morning in Jacksonville. That doesn’t fucking happen. Ever. I recall waking up around 9 and thinking, “Ah, time to start a new–FUCK, it’s cold!” It’s good too, I love the cold.

So, I just got back from Tampa where I spent New Year’s with my friends. I got pretty torn up on New Year’s Day, but aside from that, I was well behaved in the drinking department. I was nowhere near Tucker Max drunk, but my friends told me I was pretty hosed.

The trip was pretty good, I got to give my nephew his Christmas gift on my way down, a Xbox 360. He was thrilled and I was glad to give it to him. Of course, I still have my new 360 Elite for my own use…. Yay! 

Well, I hope everyone had a good holiday. And Happy New Year.
argo. (mtc)

I don’t know what to say, I’ve been out of contact for a while. Between the holiday season at work, and the gaming holiday season, I’ve been weighed down under a ton of bullshit from well before Halloween. From my highly revered Halo 3 Legendary edition, to the Orange Box, to the recently released Assassin’s Creed, Uncharted, and Mass Effect, with sprinkles of Wii and PS3 goodness in between, I’ve been either busy at work or busy on my gaming. But enough of that for now, let’s get to brass tacks people.

==

Let’s talk about the Worst Week in Crews history: it started on the last weekend of October.

== Saturday through Sunday…

Me and my pal Matt make our way down to Orlando to meet up with Anthony for Halloween Horror Nights. When told of the exact date we’d be going to Horror Nights, I quickly recalled my time at Spencer Gifts when I sold tickets to the event and remembered this piece of advice: “If ever you have a choice, don’t go to Horror Nights on the last Saturday before Halloween. It will be packed and you won’t get anything done.” I passed along this tidbit of knowledge and was told to “stop acting like a pussy and get the fucking ticket.”

Well, fine. We get to Orlando early in the afternoon and decide to “get so drunk, we won’t remember tonight even if it sucks.” Things go according to plan when the Gators start losing to the Bulldogs and I start to drink away the pain. It also starts to get rainy and chilly. Bringing along my hoodie doesn’t seem like a bad idea anymore.

However, when we get to the park, albeit pretty toasted, we start to realize the gravity of the situation when the wait times in front of the haunted houses start reading anywhere from 70 to 120 minutes. I start becoming sober and depressed immediatly. Then the rain stops and the temperature rises… I am God’s personal source of humor in the Orlando area this evening. We wait over an hour for the haunted house based on the Fredy Kreuger Nightmare movies, which was about an hour longer than it was worth waiting for. I recall walking through with a beer and a hot dog, eating as I went through, thoroughly unimpressed.

After that, we wandered the park, as per instructions from Schilke via my cell phone, toward Jack’s Clown-O-Vision, a much better house with a much longer wait. I was looking at my wrists the entire time, wishing I had a knife. It was awful. I was sweating like a new inmate about to lose his cherry in prison, I was unimpressed with the Horror Nights experience everyone else talked up so much, and I was completely fucking sober.

We only had time enough to do two Haunted Houses… TWO! After Clown-O-Vision, we went and saw Bill and Ted’s halloween revue and watched some dumbass kid get arrested stealing from a gift shop. Both equally entertaining, but not enough to redeem the night.

Another thing about that trip: I realized my mistake of asking my buddy Matt to drive immediately after getting on the interstate. His quote, “If I use my blinker, then they’ll know my next move. I can’t give them that advantage.” My quote, “If we go any faster, we’re gonna go back in time!”

== Tuesday…

So the Tuesday following Horror Nights, just out of spite, I was issued a straight kick to the gut. My dog passed away. … Yeah. The diabetic dacshund basically had a massive cardiac arrest and passed away in my stepmom’s arms. At least she died with someone there. I’ll miss that mutt.

I poured out a bottle of coke in memoriam of her. Bye Chi Chi.

== Thursday…

My luck thus far on the week in question was in the shitter because to top it all off, I got into my first traffic accident EVER. I made my way up to the mall with inentions to purchase the new version of the Sony PSP. Handheld in tow and hunger on the mind, I get back to the car and start up. I don’t know how fast the other car was going exactly, but I know that it wasn’t 15 like she said it was. That’s bullshit. No one drives under 30 in a parking lot unless you’re 87 and asleep at the wheel. I backed up and the way our cars hit, it made the question of who’s exactly at fault a really hazy question. I recall getting out of the car and looking at her front bumper on the ground about three feet away from where it was settled before my car forced it from it’s home. I proceeded to call my parents, who pay my insurance, as the other driver called the police.

We waited a good 45 minutes before the “officer” arrived. This douchebag… He’s one of those Public Safety officers who ride around thinking they’re cops, but weren’t good enough to complete the academy courses because they’re either crazy or stupid or, in this case, both. They’re easy to spot too. Just look for some dick who looks a cop, minus a gun and common sense, but rather than the average blue, black, or even khaki uniform most people associate with police, they’ve got a bright yellow nylon reflector shirt. I assume it’s for the “officer’s” safety when working traffic duty to make sure they’re not creamed by some idiot driver. Because of my interaction with this guy, I vote they give them pitch black uniforms and have they patrol I-95 on foot. (This is just pent up aggression that I’ve been wanting to let out for a while.)

It’s all routine from there. The bitch-ass-douche-nozzle-plastic-badge motherfucker cites me for fault of the accident because I’m backing out. I’m sorry I couldn’t see past the SUV to my right when I was backing out. I thought someone would see my slowly retreating back end and, I don’t know, stops before they impacting my rear bumper. Then things takes a turn. I’m about halfway through filling out my statement when I notice the other driver, who has been fine the entire time, even gone as far as saying “I’m okay” when I asked her if she was immediately following the collision. Not anymore, apparently. She starts complaining of neck pain as though I jabbed a wooden spike into her neck when the cop’s back was turned. Now the Clay County Fire and Rescue are here.

Fuck me.

They strap ass to a board and load her up on an ambulance. I’m staring at this all unfolding before me with my mouth gaping wide open and a look on my face that can only be interpreted as “What the fuck is this shit?” My thoughts mirror my expressions.

I have to wait another half an hour while the retard in his “Please don’t hit me, Mr. Car” shirt types up the report, thus ensuring my ass getting handed to me by my car insurance. He proceeds to tell me my options. He cited me for improper backing and not having my proof of insurance, which was a bullshit citing. He even said, “I don’t have to cite you for the insurance thing, but I’m going to anyways.” Goddammit.

I come to find out a couple weeks later, after filing the claim and all that fun noise, that the lady I hit wasn’t going to have her expensive red and white limo service from the accident to the hospital paid for by my insurance. They did thier thing and came to the conclusion of “There’s no way she could have done that mush damage to her neck and back in the accident in question… So fuck her.” I didn’t object. I then got a nicely worded letter from the local offices of Farah and Farah, the neighborhood ambulance chaser and well known dick. I haven’t heard anything since I forwarded the letter to my claims rep. So either everything’s going great or everyone is dead. Niether would surprise me nor make me feel bad.

==

Holiday times at Best Buy suck.

It’s bad enough throughout the rest of the year, but from the day after Thanksgiving to New Years, there is this giant fucking GAP in shit to do for my department. The task of arranging shit on shelves just disappears for a month and a half and we need to be there extra early. Take the other morning: I’m at work at 4 am. Why? I don’t have a valid reason. Another guy has been spending 15 percent of his time at work doing work, and the rest of the time, he just shopping. Why? Because there’s nothing to do.

Sure there’s always something to do, like stock shelves, or shop, or shoot heroin into my ballsack, or even blog. God fucking help me.

==

Well, in any case. Merry Christmas, everyone. Have a good one.

argo. (mtc)

So, what’s up? Let’s see, Dragon Con was fucking awesome. The only thing I thought sucked about it was that the Marriott Marquis hotel, which is the hotel between the other two hosting Dragon Con and largest one, was under renovation. So traveling from the Hilton to the Hyatt and vice versa was hard pressed to be any less irritating. Aside form that, this year was very fucking cool. I look forward already to next year.

AWA is this next coming weekend from September 21-23. Unfortunately, most of the people who’ve been going with me for the last few years have dropped out for reasons ranging from money to time restraints. So only Angel and I will be going to Atlanta for AWA this weekend. Whee. I’m gone from Thursday to Sunday evening.

==

Work is driving me insane, my direct manager is an unrestrained asshole. Even I know when I should stop being a prick and start acting like a human being, but the Product Process manager at my store, a little cum stain named Will, has been running the warehouse people ragged, leaving most of us with extreme overtime, little help, and an unhealthy amount of ill morale. Sooner or later, he’s gonna piss off everyone back there and we’re all gonna stop working for him. If he doesn’t lighten up, I’d like to be there when the shit finally hits him in the face.

==

What else is up? Ah! I now own all three next generation systems: an Xbox 360, a Playstation 3, and my newly acquired Nintendo Wii. I’m lovin’ it.

Yeah…. We’ll talk more later, bitches.

argo. (mtc)

So… It’s been a little while, huh? I guess the real question is: what’s gone down recently in the world of Crews?

== work is hell…

Well, I’ve recently returned from the desolate hell known as the Best Buy overnight resets. The Home Theater department at my store was recently remodeled and I was stuck for two weeks straight doing some very demanding shit with some very fucking irritating morons. I won’t name anyone, but some of the assholes I was forced to work alongside were some of the most disgusting, irritating, annoying, lazy, retarded, and whiny ass motherfuckers I’ve ever had to fucking deal with in my life. It’s like they grabbed the store like a fucking throw rug and shook it and the normal and hard working employees managed to hang on (with the exception of the people who actually busted thier ass and came though on the overnights, they know who they are).

Needless to say, I’m glad that bullshit is over and done with. And the work paid off, too. If you’re in the Orange Park area and want to fight with traffic and parking, go to the Best Buy and check out the new home theater area and our new Plasma wall.

== home front…

Schilke is a goddess. After having procured a Playstation 3 from her work for an ungodly cheap price, she had to part with it for some hard earned cash… namely, my cash.

I swooped in like a fucking vulture and picked up her PS3 for $300 and currently have it hooked up in my bedroom. Oh yes, it’s fucking sweet. For that price, you cannot argue that it was a damn good deal.

== art of war…
I’ve been sketching during my lunch hour throughout the overnights at work. It was my best way to avoid the others and relax while there. More or less, it’s been far too long between sketches for my to be consistent in my work. This needs to change if I even want to return to no/fly/zone. Once I find a way to discipline myself that’ll work for what I need, I’ll start postiing more often.

argo. (mtc)