This blog is about butts, aliens, vampires, David Bowie, pokémon, and zombie dictators.

What search terms are leading people to this blog — and are those people disappointed?

Let’s take a gander!

“Rural Big Booty”
I can deliver on this promise. I live in a cornfield and I have an ass for days.

“Crazy Hair On Ancient Aliens”
I can help you with that. If you look at my Ancient Aliens tag, you’ll discover his name is Giorgio Tsoukalos. His hair levitates because it’s being beamed up to the Mothership.

“How To Look Rich”
Nope. I’m essentially Oscar the Grouch. (You, know, like, scruffy and living in a trash can.)

“Overpopulation Drawings”
Oddly… I have illustrated this! I was ranting about Stephen King’s blasé attitude toward vampire overpopulation.

“David Bowie Themed Party”
Wow. I’ve never posted about this — but thank you for the suggestion.

“ghost spam is free from the politics, we dancing like a paralytics
I have nothing for you. It’s time to seek a professional.

“Pikachu vs Jigglypuff”
Easy. Jigglypuff. Next.

OSS_BERNE242

“Zombie Hitler”

If you have been watching Hunting Hitler, you’d know that he’s not a zombie. Because he’s not dead.

Well, maybe he’s dead.

But he died, maybe, in Argentina, instead of Germany. Listen, it’s a whole thing. His death/bodily remains situation isn’t as clear as you’d think.

Anyway, if you spot Zombie Hitler, you need to go for the headshot.

Unless he did actually shoot himself in the head in the bunker, in which case, he’s already handled it for you. Easy-peasy.

Thank you for consulting with me on this important matter.

Putting A Positive Spin on A Fucked Up Owl

I created a pillow that slid out of my control.

Burn your eyes on this image:

Derpy-Owl

Words of comfort from my nerdy friends:

Rachel: “Navajo weavers would include intentional mistakes to let out any bad spirits that got trapped.”

Alice: “Persian rug weavers did as well, since only God can make perfect things. Actually, the Greeks had a myth about how one should not be prideful over how perfect their weaving is too.”

Josie: “It’s even MORE special ’cause it’s done with love from the heart and not mass-produced!”
Me: “GOOD SPIN. Have you considered a career in PR?”
Josie: “Stick with me, kid… I’ll make you a crocheting STAR!”

I can’t wait to be famous for fucking up basic patterns!

What’s so appealing about the Dark Side, anyway?

The only thing worse than working in a cubicle is working for the Dark Side. The lighting is terrible. The outfits are uncomfortable. Your boss is a sith-head.

(Get it? It’s like shit-head. “Shit” and “sith” even have the same letters.)

What are the benefits? What’s the health plan like?

Let’s talk about it in today’s Long Digression About Star Wars (no spoilers).

WhyDarkSide

The Dark Side has a great PR campaign. The argument posed to Anakin Skywalker was something like “hey, buddy, this will make you feel better. This will solve your problems.” The Jedi weren’t offering such a deal. Which leads me to…

Being a Jedi sucks. You have to be pure. You can’t get married. The outfits aren’t cool. Meditation is boring.

The Dark Side is addictive, like drugs. Like drugs, you act all erratic and raged-out — and it’s terrible for your skin:

PalpatineSidious

The Dark Side is a cool way to rebel against The Man. Is there anything more metal — literally or figuratively — than Darth Vader?

The Dark Side has better toys. Who wouldn’t want to push the button on the Death Star? How tempting is that?

The Dark Side is cleaner. If you have OCD, you’ll like that all those Empire ships are spick-and-span. The entire fleet is spotless. Their organization game is on point.

But seriously, here’s what I actually believe is the case:

The Dark Side’s structure makes it easier to rise in the ranks. You know if you’re powerful.

In the real world, it’s tough to determine who’s “winning.” (Insert Charlie Sheen joke here.) There are so many different ways to figure out hierarchy.

Is the rich guy winning? Is the healthy guy winning? Is the attractive guy winning?

Is it the guy who has a hot wife — or is it the guy who’s found his soul mate?

Is it the guy with kids — or the guy who managed to dodge the kid bullet?

Is it the guy who travels all the time? The guy who hangs out in his mansion? The guy who abandoned all that and just surfs on the beach near his apartment?

The “real world” has so many variables and ways to attain success. It’s hard to know if you’ve “made it.”

In the Empire, there’s no scrambling or uncertainty — especially if you have the Force. The variables are gone. You are immediately at the top. You are important.

(Or, at least, the creepy guy in charge tells you that you are.)

It’s simple, and it’s clear.

But if you realize you’ve made a mistake, it’s almost impossible to go back.

Who wants to shame-walk back to the people they’ve betrayed?

Once you’re in the Dark Side, you’re stuck.

A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again: Octavia The Octopus

If you love tedium, I have the crochet pattern for you!

Everyone, say hello to Octavia the Octopus.

Adam1

Her name was originally Ophelia the Octopus, but I was told that was “too depressing.” (See, it’s funny because Ophelia ends up in the water. Literature appreciation can never start too early!)

She’s a Hanukkah present for my friend’s son. 8 days, 8 legs.

I briefly considered sending one leg a day and having my friend assemble her on the other side. Hilarious, right? Again, I got told I could not have the things I wanted.

Octavia3

Ophelia was originally meant to be done months ago.

Here’s why it took so long.

I made the head.

Then I made a leg.

Then I made another leg.

And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another.

Then I made a suction cup. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another.

And two eyes. (You’ll notice they’re different from the pattern. I thought the pattern’s eyes were scary for a child.)

Then I sewed the whole kit & caboodle together. Including each suction cup.

Octavia2

I’m not going to lie to you: this was the worst.

If you calculated time spent vs my hourly wage, this is a multi-hundred-dollar octopus.

If you want one for your kid, you can feel free to make one yourself.

The Holocaust. 9/11. The Octopus. NEVER AGAIN.