Now That's Just Sad.

As Mr. Ritter would say: "Pitiful. Just pitiful."

-Late

Have I Got Shoes for You

Greetings, earthlings. I'm going to act like I've been posting with regularity, as to allow us to get on with the post. Mmkay, alright?

Where to begin? I draw in Moleskine notebooks a lot. One of the things I love doing to both conserve paper and make things look super-cool is to cram tons and tons of tiny drawings onto one page, as such:

(photo is courtesy of my Samsung Fascinate's Ps Express app...gotta love the blatant product placement. By the way, I'll take a check, Verizon.)

Just ignore the random scribbles...they honestly make no sense, even to me.

During the less than exciting classes (math), I'd draw in my spare time. Then someone would want to see. And then that other person would. Who would then tell their friend to check it out. Within ten minutes, they would have made rounds around the classroom, garnered a look of disapproval from Mr. Satyr, and I would be on the verge of a panic attack because- "WHERE ARE THEY? WHERE'S MY BABY!?".

Back to the story. But there was a certain someone who took a special interest in my drawing skizllz. This was Belzy. She approached me one day with an engaging conversation, a proposal, if you will (it's a world-wide punomenon!)- she wanted me to draw on a pair of white keds. 

I'd been thinking of doing this for a while, but never had the initiative to actually buy a pair of shoes (the horror!)

I agreed and got to work with my magical bag of Sharpies. After about a week of really hard work, they were finished.

Viola. 

She loved them, and wore them around the school. Within a day, I had tons of requests for shoes. And they were saying they'd pay for them! Squee! Although many failed to bring in shoes for me to draw on, two others did. I labored over these things, still only charging $20, which is insanely minimum wage (one person even had the gall to ask if I'd take $5...). During the beginning of the break, I did two more pairs of shoes for my aunt and my cousin. 

For more pictures, you can go to my deviantArt page (there's a link in the sidebar) where I will soon have pictures of all the shoes.

Anyway, I'm still working out kinks in the system, but my next move is to make shoes for myself and wear them around town. I'm thinking Batman, Harry Potter, or Portal themed. Suggestions?

-Leighton

BZZZZZZZZ.

I love Spring. The weather's finally nice and warm, but not blistering hot. Flowers are in bloom, the school year is winding down, everything is peachy. Not for me. Along with crippling allergies (and a slight case of Dramaqueenium), I have this...phobia. Of-wait, can you hear that? That buzzing? No, there's no way that's the laundry machine. Wait, why are you locking me outside-NO! NO THIS IS BAD THIS IS BAD THIS IS REALLY BAD THEY TESTED THIS ON MYTHBUSTERS YOU CAN'T CONQUER FEAR THIS WAY THIS IS TRAUMATIZING WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU OMG HALP HALP OMG HALP.

[has anyone noticed that my grammar goes out the window when I panic?]

If you haven't figured it out yet, I have an irrational fear of bees, wasps, hornets, what have you. When many people see them, they see cheerful, cute, hard workers. When I see a bee? I see a vicious, psychic, immortal, killer mutant.

They know when you're afraid (at least that's what my parents always say), so I'm wondering how advanced their mind-probing technology is (and how much time we have before the coming Apiscalypse [word play pwn]). I'll bet that they have all sorts of organic gadgetry in their silly little hives. Also, haven't scientists proven that, aerodynamically, they shouldn't be able to fly? They must be mutants gone horribly wrong. In mythology, bees are a symbol of immortality. No comment. Bees can and WILL take over the world (only after teaming up with Switzaii City, of course). It's only a matter of time.

But I digress.

I hate bees. They're scary. I can't stand going outside during Spring for fear of be(e)ing stung. At my dad's house, the walkway is borded by huge, beautiful, BEE INFESTED rose bushes *whimper*. At school, there are also some large, lovely, flowery trees. Let's just say that most Spring recesses I can be found running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, shrieking and flailing my arms about my person. Alternately, I can be found sucking my thumb in the fetal position under the bleachers. I'm very popular, you know.

Adi-OMG A BEE.

Oh, wait, it was just a guy on a bike.
(I'll take a check.)*

-Leighton

UPDATE: Was recently stung by a wasp, went through a bit of an allergy scare ("Did you bring an Epipen?""No...!""Are you allergic to stings?""I don't know!""Let's get you to the front office"). Completely intensified my fear, as I was minding my own business when it flew right up my shirt. That little-*grumble*

*Basically, if you're reading this blog and you don't know what that means, then, HOORAY! You're not a friend or member of my family/extended family, so that means I'm famous! Or I'm about to be spammed by a scary Chinese site that wants to know if I would be interested in "free offer ipad from Pear Computng."

Spectacular Spectacular

Watched "Moulin Rogue!" the other night. Not surprisingly, I enjoyed it. What's not to love? Good music, Obi Wan Kenobi, Professor Slughorn, dancing movie theater attendants, and more. Here's a short list of my thoughts of the movie, because, really, they're all irrelevant observations that would otherwise be difficult to string together.

• I want to steal Nicole Kidman's hair. 
• And voice.
• Zidler is a scary conglomerate of Prof. Slughorn with a Felix Felicis OD, Carrot Top, and a cross dresser. Combined, we are...ZIDLER (Zany Imbeciles Dance Lithely and Evilly Resemble-Rodents)

• In my mind, I kept seeing the Duke as Gabe from The Office. Sorry, Gabe. But you're just too creepy. I mean, seriously. Dwight is FAR cuddlier than you are (and that's saying something).
• The gun (a literal Chekov's Gun) was stupid. It was like: suspense, humor, suspense, YAY, humor, DIE. Didn't work too well for me. 
• Two words: ELTON JOHN. Win.
• The "Like a Virgin" scene is just about THE most disturbing thing I have EVER witnessed. Jim Broadbent...singing...Madonna...and scary dancing...*shudders*.
• I wanted to see the Duke sing some Bee Gees. 

...yeah, that's about it. Go watch it.

-Leighton

NAW, Vol. 1

You know those times where something bad happens and you're all like, "NAAAAAAAAAAW!". Considering that I get a lot of these, I've decided to make some comics based on that. Hopefully this one makes sense.

Sorry for not posting in a month...I've just been busy. Which is the worst excuse ever, but I need significant amounts of free time to both enjoy it and blog. Anyway...I'll post when I can, but don't expect regular updates. I'm so sorry.

SHAME.

-Leighton

Original.

At the Copa, the Copacabana, they urge you to have a banana. No, really. "Have a banana," they say.

I can really imagine Barry Manilow's convo with his producer or whatever...

BARRY: So I have "Copacabana...aaaaahhhhhAHHHHH...Copacabana...aaahhhhhAHHHHH."
PRODUCER: Very nice, very nice. The ignorant little saps will adore it, MHUHAHA *strokes evil baby kitten*!!!
BARRY: Great. What now?
PRODUCER: Something that will absolutely baffle our audience. They'll look so deeply for meaning, that they will destroy themselves in the quest *cuddles evil baby giraffe while chuckling with a dark inflection*.
BARRY:...what?
PRODUCER: "TALKING HAVANA". WRITE IT *lightning strikes*. I COMMAND YOU.
BARRY: *frantically scribbles, fear in his eyes* But, um, [gulp], sir, what, may I ask, rhymes with Havana?
PRODUCER: You poor [mentally challenged donkey], Barry. What rhymes with Havana? *gesticulates wildly* Louisiana, Pollyanna, bandana, Indiana, capital of Ghana, banana!
BARRY: ...none of those make any sense.
PRODUCER: *returns evil, physicist murdering cuttlefish into tank* WRITE IT!!
BARRY: *whimpers and scrambles to write* Yessir. Anything you say, sir.

...hmmm. Yeah.

-Leighton

I'M POSTING AS FAST AS I CAN, PEOPLE. GEEZ.

Bus Driver Does Not Understand Physics

Dear Mr. Bus Driver Guy,

Please don't speed up immediately when I get on, only to stop abruptly right before I get to my seat (which is in the very back, thankyouverymuch).

Sincerely,

That Chick That Trips Every Morning

The Most Traumatic Birthday Party Ever

Once upon a time, I was a toddler who had never been to a birthday party without my mother. My good friend's fourth birthday party was coming up, and her mom convinced my mother that I would be perfectly fine at the party by myself. Aheh. Oh, wait, was that foreshadowing? Hmm, didn't mean to do that. Anyway, parental unit numero uno dropped me off with a bunch of other psycho three year old girls. We were sugared up upon arrival, bounced off the walls for a while, bothered my friend's brothers (BOTHER BOTHER BOTHER BOTHER), and when her parents got sick of us destroying the house, they sent us out to...the trampoline *dramatic music plays*. I was extremely jealous of my friend who not only had a humongous trampoline, but a ginormous back yard. We all raced through this big yard to the very back where the trampoline was. We hopped and jumped til we could hop and jump no more. One thing that I might point out about this trampoline is that it was very high up off the ground; so high, in fact, that we needed a step ladder to get up to it. After a while, my friend's mom poked her head out the back door and yelled "CAKE!". Note to readers: never, ever, ever get between a toddler and cake. Just...don't. Don't make a mistake. I happened to be at the back of the trampoline, and everyone shoved to the little flap, and bolted to the house. The last kid grabbed the stool. Gee, thanks. I was okay with this for a few minutes. I was all, "Suckers. I get more hopping time, so ha ha on you,". About a minute later did I realize that not only was it not very good that I was trapped on a trampoline without any way of getting down, but that no body was coming to get me. And that's when I started to panic. I yelled in the general direction of the house for a while ("GUYS?! HELP? HELLLLLP! HELP ME!!!"). It didn't help that there were some dark clouds closing in, and it smelled of thunder. So, I did what any normal toddler would do in this situation: I plopped down and sobbed dismally. I can't remember how I got back into the house, but once I did, the cake was mostly gone (and to add insult to injury, it was one of those horrible cakes where they stuff a Barbie into the center. I was so excited), and there were no flower candies left. People were even starting to leave. Luckily, I did get a gift bag, and I think I was appeased with a mini tube of Barbie lip gloss. However, I don't think my mom's anxieties were assuaged that easily...

Let's just say it ended badly.

-Leighton

Do Not Eat the Purple Starburst

DON'T.

DON'T MAKE A MISTAKE.

A while ago, I found a two-pack of purple Starburst. Being a huge connoisseur of Starburst (If you get in the way of me and a pack of Starburst, girl, imma cut you. No, really. SUHKURRITY!*), I will eat any flavor you give me. The Starbursts were really pretty...lavender and stuff...apparently the flavor was "Passionfruit". Upon hearing that, some klaxon bells should've been blaring, because PASSIONFRUIT SUCKS. YES, IT DOES. I popped one in my mouth, chewed, and dry heaved a bit. To describe the flavor: Dawn dishwashing liquid (yes, I know from experience what it tastes like) mixed with the nastiest artificial fruit you've ever had the misfortune of entering your oral cavity (read: flavored water). The taste stayed in my mouth for the rest of the day. *shudders* That goes right up there with the most disgusting things I've ever tasted: chocolate peanut butter meringue cookies and guava/cream cheese on a cracker.

...toodles!

-Leighton

*Are Cairo and I the only ones who know what that's from???

Happy New Year/Happy Birthday

A few years ago, on this very day, my dad and I had a conversation that proves just how spacey I can be:

Dad: Hi.
Me: Hi.
Dad: Happy New Year!
Me: Happy New Year to you too.
Dad:...
Me:...
*awkward pause*
Dad: Don't you have anything else to say to me?
Me: Uhhhhh....*thinks*....uhhhhh....I love you?
Dad: *facepalm* It's my birthday!
Me: *awkward turtle just had awkward grandchildren*

Happy New Year, and happy birthday to my daddy-o!

-Leighton

PS: For those of you wondering how old he's turning: he was born in 1997 *smirk*.