Barkeater Lake and Li'l Spencer

I've got some pretty big things brewing, so I've had to push Barkeater Lake and Li'l Spencer aside while I get the paying jobs in order.

This, unfortunately is how it goes until one single gig can cover the bills. The Elderberries helps, MAD helps and the rest has to come from freelance work, which I have to take time to go out and get.

If I pick up a lot of new work, the fun stuff (BL, Li'l Spencer and DAW posts) has to wait. If there's a dry spell, that gives me time to work on all your afore-mentioned favs.

You can continue post mean and cutting anonymous posts, send me emails that accuse me of being a slacker and a failure, but it will not change things. Its nice to have fans, but fans do not run the show.

I do what I do and you all are welcome to watch and continue to comment. Just know that your chides and mini-diatribes are only for your own self-assurance.

Congratulations Anonymous!

Anonymous' last post on the Angry Eyebrows blog was his/her 10,000th post to Drink at Work.com!

Over the years, "Anon", as he/she often prefers, has really set us straight. From the vague three paragraph diatribes analyzing why our site is unfunny, to sharply criticizing our poor work ethic and lackadaisical attitude, you do indeed rock!

Kudos to you, Sir/Ma'am/Miss! We all wish we had life figured out as well as you do. Your confidence and apparent expertise in everything affecting our stay on the blue planet is to be commended. By the very nature of your chosen moniker, you've managed to circumvent any accountability for your actions! For this, we are forever envious.

As a reward, we've arranged a private party for you behind the Drink at Work Woodshed. Bring nothing but your unflappable ego and be there at 5pm sharp.

Oh, and ignore the ticking.


Congrats, Sir/Ma'am/Miss... Congrats.

The Drink at Work Team

Good God, I'm a Cartoonist

I'm torn.

I really didn't like that song. I did try to like it and Natalie Embruglia was fun to look at, but that tune drilled a hole my head.

Sorry.

ANYWAY... I'm torn on what to say it is I do for a living. Evidently, I'm a cartoonist. And I'm not very proud of it. I think I'd rather be a REAL Rockstar, or someone who gets paid to name celebrity voices in TV ads (I'm a hoot at parties). But I'm not those things. I'm just a cartoonist.

I say I'm JUST a cartoonist because I mostly don't like that it immediately places me in the current "cartoonist community." Allow me to 'splain... When I was pushing to get into papers through a syndicate, I got to meet some other newspaper cartoonists. Out of the 15 or so I've met, I like one. And the reason I like him is he feels the same way I do about being a cartoonist. So, now that I have a "webcomic", I've tried to join the "webcomics community" through emails and feigning interest in other's work, only to be shunned quicker than... Than some clever character reference to some online game I don't play. Don't get me wrong, I like the idea of having a little community of like-minded souls I can bounce ideas off of... Just not the like-minded souls I've met so far. I do really like the WORK of being cartoonist. I love to draw and I love to write. And I LOVE to get paid. I'm just not interested in the title of "cartoonist"and the baggage that society seems to place with it.

I'm passionate, sure... I guess. I don't know. Look, I like to make people laugh and I like to get paid for it. I'm not interested in taking it too seriously because I don't take anything too seriously. I suppose this alienates me from nearly everyone in comics... And possibly everyone in every other creative genre. Which is fine. I never bought into the whole "I Do it because I love it, despite getting paid." Being paid cash money is the best feeling next to sex, beer and bacon. Or, Sex WITH beer and bacon... Can you imagine? Anyway, the money makes me love what I do. A shallow statement perhaps, but at least I'm honest. I suppose there are days when I wish I was included in the "community" more, but then I look at the way most of these guys/girls conduct themselves and I think, "Do I really want to be associated with that?" The idea of discussing the seriousness of being funny seems counter-productive to me. It also makes me sick to my stomach. I'd much rather get drunk and not talk.

I want the fame and fortune, but I want the regular ol' fame and fortune. Not this weird niche Internet cartoonist faux fame, where you have to attend conferences, buddy up with people you wouldn't normally speak to, and engage in mind-numbing conversations about the industry and the future of the industry. I like geeky things. I like Batman. I love Superman comics and movies. I like to see things in space and I like to watch things blow up. But I like those things to a point. I have a life outside of that. I don't want to talk about how ground breaking something is for four hours. And I don't judge every aspect of society through a tiny sarcastic fish eye lense, peppering my chides with references from star wars and online comics no one's ever heard of. There's a new sitcom that does this... And it's so sad.

I guess I need to practice my guitar more and write a hit TV show staring Jennifer Connelly eating bacon at a bar.

Could you imagine getting paid to do THAT? Now that's the ol' iron clad fame and fortune I'm talking about. Uh-huh. I'm sure there are no weirdos or cliquey communities in TV entertainment. That's where all the cool kids are. Right?

Cheers!

Corey "Fake Rockstar/Real Cartoonist" Pandolph

Horribly wonderful

I work from home and my office faces the back of our house. Behind my backyard is a total white-trash day care center, complete with a Rottweiler, Dachshund and a sand box they poop in when the kids are inside.

When the kids are outside, its unbearable. They scream just to scream pushing, me to a point when I stick my fat head out the window to yell "Shut the fuck up!".

Today, however, was different...

Somebody nearby was using a nail gun, which in the distance, sounds remarkably like a real live killing gun being fired. Just before I reached the point of bellowing my futile decree from my window, I realized each time the nail gun went off, the kids got quieter. It was just a coincidence of them being called back inside at the exact same time the nail gun was fired, but without turning around to face the window, it sounded exactly like someone was picking off each screaming maggot, one by one.

I was elated and terrified all at once.

Just goes to show that it really is the little things that get us through the day.

Cheers!