My Plan for Campaign 3 is fairly simple. I'm going to cut back.
I have some other projects I am working on that necessarily will steal time from Campaign 3. I want to start a business making and selling designer aluminum hats for the insane/rich. I also need to mow the yard.
Anyway, I have decided that I am only requiring myself to write two letters a week. I know that is not much, but this way I can focus on not sending crap. It will also give me time to perhaps add some pictures. And who knows, maybe some of the letters will be longer than a single page this time.
If you think this is a bad idea feel free to tell me so. And if you work at Turner Broadcasting/Cartoon Network/[adult swim] then perhaps I'll listen. And if you do work there, by the way, you should hire me. I'm totally awesome.
---
Letter 13:
Dear [adult swim],
My office secretary just told me I was hot. Well, she didn't actually say that I was hot, but she did say that guys who wear Hawaiian shirts are hot, and I was planning on wearing one today. I changed my mind at the last minute and decided I would wear it tomorrow. So she thinks I'm hot tomorrow. But she thinks it today. So I have a futuristic kind of sex appeal.
Some days I wish I had a "now" kind of sex appeal.
Last night my wife let me know that if I talk about politics anymore there will be no more sex. She asked me to whisper something romantic in her ear and so I started talking about the economy and what this congressman had said about this congresswoman and how the were really getting heated and partisan and what not. It was all leading up to how nice my wife's boobs were looking, but when I finally got to make that point she was asleep.
This morning I was going to make up for it by telling her about her nice boobs when she woke up, but she had really bad morning breath and I just couldn't stand it. I'll remember that romantic boob compliment and save it for later.
signed
May 19, 2006
Ps. The I in line two was my attempt to write in italics. It didn't go well. When you hire me to work for you I promise I will work night and day until I can write all the vowels in italics, lower and upper case.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Financial Advice/Results of Survey/Campaign 2 over/Letter 12
It's been a while since my last post. I have fallen far behind because I've been dealing with trying to get into a house.
Incidentally, if there is anyone out there who knows as little as I know about credit and finances and they are wondering if they should buy a house, well, let me give you some advice.
Firstly, yes, you should buy a house. But only if you can afford it. Cash is the best way to afford something. So I recommend you have about $150,000.00 or more in cash. Another way to afford something is to get a loan. This way of affording something sucks. Because it really means you can't afford it and some rich banker can. And that rich banker is going to buy your house and let you live in it. And just to shove it in your face that he can afford it and you can't he's going to make you pay about 300% of the actual cost of the house. And he's going to make you pay it over the next 30 years. So kiss your life goodbye.
Secondly, if, like me, you have tried for the last five years to get a home loan and everyone has told you, "No way! You're credit sucks. I couldn't give you a loan for any interest rate you could possibly afford," but now someone is saying, "Sure I can give you credit, even though your credit isn't any better than it was last year and interests rates have gone up..." run like hell. Run, run, run, run, run like hell, hell, hell, hell, hell. He'll tell you, yeah, it's a competitive interest rate of 7.75%. It's not the best, but neither is your credit.
Run man, really. He's a monster dressed up like a banker. Underneath his fake fangs he has real fangs, and they are terrible. Your 7.75% loan is an arm loan and next year it will be 1,000,000,000%. And he will tell you this seriously, like he's doing you a favor. And you won't know what an arm loan is so you will still sign the paper. And you'll come home thinking you are totally awesome for being so lucky and you'll tell your brother who is a financial adviser and he'll say, "WHAT THE F-ING HECK WERE YOU THINKING!?????" And you'll cry a good bit. And then when the reality hits you you'll cry a lot more.
So when the greasy monster at _ _ erican _ quity _ _ rtgage comes to you with his fake fangs and his slicked back fur, kick him in the balls and rent for another couple of years. You'll thank me later. Oh, and don't have kids yet. They're expensive and they say things like, "But I want my own room." And, "If you loved me you'd stay at that horrible job to provide me with financial security and insurance." If you already have kids then I'm so happy for you. Aren't they wonderful.
---
Ok, on June 19, 2006 the survey closed. The survey was to see how many people out there thought I would eventually get a job at Cartoon Network's [adult swim] and how many people thought that I would not. I am very happy to notify you that a full 100% of people in the world* agreed that I would eventually get a job at Cartoon Network. Nearly half were so certain that I would get a job that they speculated on what odd things might cause me to not get a job there and none of the were able to come up with an answer.** Thank you for your votes and support.
---
Well, Campaign 2 ended with a wimper. I didn't send off any kind of portfolio or even a notice that my letters were done for a while. I sort of sucked butt on that one. Like I said, buying a house is stressful and it WILL get in the way of whatever you're doing. But, the good news is that I have already begun on Campaign 3. It will be different than the first two. I am not pushing myself to send a letter every day, but I am raising the bar on what I send. I want it to be a bit more in depth. The letters will not be confined to one page, as it grows harder and harder to keep it simple. And I want to try and start sending some of my drawings. This means I may only get one or two letters out a week. I will decide on the rules of Campaign 3 before it begins. If I have the rules laid out I will be more likely to follow them. I never made any Campaign 2 rules and thus I broke every one.
---
Letter 11:
Dear [adult swim],
I rode the bus home yesterday. There was a family sitting near me and the two sisters were talking. Their discussion was benign, but it was clear the older sister was getting snotty. Then she pulled from her bag this beautiful candy apple. It looked and smelled delicious. I've never seen anything so tasty, and clearly neither had the little sister. her eyes popped right out of her head and rolled up under her sister's seat to beg.
The older sister ignored the younger and wrapped her rather large mouth half way around the apple. then she bit into it. Even the sound was delicious. As she chewed red dissolved candy gushed from the corners of her mouth like a candy vampire. The sweet smell of candy permeated the back of the bus and temporarily pushed out the Carbon Monoxide.
The little sister literally had her tongue hanging out of her mouth as the big sister went to town on her candy kill.
"Do you want some?" the big sister asked, and the delighted little girl just about bounced out of her chair. "Ok, but I need to hold it so you don't drop it."
The little girl didn't care. She was about to bite into heaven. Then the big sister held up the eaten side of the apple so all she could reach was the exposed core; the slowly browning meat of the seedy middle.
Little sister tried to twist and turn her head to reach the candy side, but big sister kept turning the apple so she could only see the mauled, mostly devoured side, which had little apple left, and no candy.
"Let your sister hold the apple," Mama Justice finally said.
"But she'll drop it."
"Well if she does it'll serve you right for being mean."
Little sister's eyes glowed. Oh, and I could tell it was sweet. I could almost taste it as she took hold of the stick and took the tiniest little bite. It was obvious she savored it. She let the candy sit in her mouth for a while before chewing it. She let it linger.
"Can I have some?" asked big brother from the row back. Both girls looked at him with dismay. the little one handed up the apple and he clumsily and quickly chomped down most of what was left. And he slobbered on it.
"Thank you," the little sister said to big as the boy handed back the ravaged core. "That was good."
About half an hour after the smell of candy apple dissipated the bus filled with the smell of dill pickle. Big sister had pulled out a bag full of juice and a giant pickle like you see in old 50's films at the 'Soda Shop.'
She made quick work of the pickle and this time she completely ignored the longing stares of little sis.
Don't worry Little Sis, vengeance is coming soon. I just hope the toilet in your house is close to the door and properly aerated. The Lord of the Colon is going to teach big sister not to mix apples and pickles.
And your brother will get herpes his freshman year of highschool.
signed
May 18, 2006
---
*...who voted...
** Interpreted from the phrase "How could you not?" -Coolcat
Incidentally, if there is anyone out there who knows as little as I know about credit and finances and they are wondering if they should buy a house, well, let me give you some advice.
Firstly, yes, you should buy a house. But only if you can afford it. Cash is the best way to afford something. So I recommend you have about $150,000.00 or more in cash. Another way to afford something is to get a loan. This way of affording something sucks. Because it really means you can't afford it and some rich banker can. And that rich banker is going to buy your house and let you live in it. And just to shove it in your face that he can afford it and you can't he's going to make you pay about 300% of the actual cost of the house. And he's going to make you pay it over the next 30 years. So kiss your life goodbye.
Secondly, if, like me, you have tried for the last five years to get a home loan and everyone has told you, "No way! You're credit sucks. I couldn't give you a loan for any interest rate you could possibly afford," but now someone is saying, "Sure I can give you credit, even though your credit isn't any better than it was last year and interests rates have gone up..." run like hell. Run, run, run, run, run like hell, hell, hell, hell, hell. He'll tell you, yeah, it's a competitive interest rate of 7.75%. It's not the best, but neither is your credit.
Run man, really. He's a monster dressed up like a banker. Underneath his fake fangs he has real fangs, and they are terrible. Your 7.75% loan is an arm loan and next year it will be 1,000,000,000%. And he will tell you this seriously, like he's doing you a favor. And you won't know what an arm loan is so you will still sign the paper. And you'll come home thinking you are totally awesome for being so lucky and you'll tell your brother who is a financial adviser and he'll say, "WHAT THE F-ING HECK WERE YOU THINKING!?????" And you'll cry a good bit. And then when the reality hits you you'll cry a lot more.
So when the greasy monster at _ _ erican _ quity _ _ rtgage comes to you with his fake fangs and his slicked back fur, kick him in the balls and rent for another couple of years. You'll thank me later. Oh, and don't have kids yet. They're expensive and they say things like, "But I want my own room." And, "If you loved me you'd stay at that horrible job to provide me with financial security and insurance." If you already have kids then I'm so happy for you. Aren't they wonderful.
---
Ok, on June 19, 2006 the survey closed. The survey was to see how many people out there thought I would eventually get a job at Cartoon Network's [adult swim] and how many people thought that I would not. I am very happy to notify you that a full 100% of people in the world* agreed that I would eventually get a job at Cartoon Network. Nearly half were so certain that I would get a job that they speculated on what odd things might cause me to not get a job there and none of the were able to come up with an answer.** Thank you for your votes and support.
---
Well, Campaign 2 ended with a wimper. I didn't send off any kind of portfolio or even a notice that my letters were done for a while. I sort of sucked butt on that one. Like I said, buying a house is stressful and it WILL get in the way of whatever you're doing. But, the good news is that I have already begun on Campaign 3. It will be different than the first two. I am not pushing myself to send a letter every day, but I am raising the bar on what I send. I want it to be a bit more in depth. The letters will not be confined to one page, as it grows harder and harder to keep it simple. And I want to try and start sending some of my drawings. This means I may only get one or two letters out a week. I will decide on the rules of Campaign 3 before it begins. If I have the rules laid out I will be more likely to follow them. I never made any Campaign 2 rules and thus I broke every one.
---
Letter 11:
Dear [adult swim],
I rode the bus home yesterday. There was a family sitting near me and the two sisters were talking. Their discussion was benign, but it was clear the older sister was getting snotty. Then she pulled from her bag this beautiful candy apple. It looked and smelled delicious. I've never seen anything so tasty, and clearly neither had the little sister. her eyes popped right out of her head and rolled up under her sister's seat to beg.
The older sister ignored the younger and wrapped her rather large mouth half way around the apple. then she bit into it. Even the sound was delicious. As she chewed red dissolved candy gushed from the corners of her mouth like a candy vampire. The sweet smell of candy permeated the back of the bus and temporarily pushed out the Carbon Monoxide.
The little sister literally had her tongue hanging out of her mouth as the big sister went to town on her candy kill.
"Do you want some?" the big sister asked, and the delighted little girl just about bounced out of her chair. "Ok, but I need to hold it so you don't drop it."
The little girl didn't care. She was about to bite into heaven. Then the big sister held up the eaten side of the apple so all she could reach was the exposed core; the slowly browning meat of the seedy middle.
Little sister tried to twist and turn her head to reach the candy side, but big sister kept turning the apple so she could only see the mauled, mostly devoured side, which had little apple left, and no candy.
"Let your sister hold the apple," Mama Justice finally said.
"But she'll drop it."
"Well if she does it'll serve you right for being mean."
Little sister's eyes glowed. Oh, and I could tell it was sweet. I could almost taste it as she took hold of the stick and took the tiniest little bite. It was obvious she savored it. She let the candy sit in her mouth for a while before chewing it. She let it linger.
"Can I have some?" asked big brother from the row back. Both girls looked at him with dismay. the little one handed up the apple and he clumsily and quickly chomped down most of what was left. And he slobbered on it.
"Thank you," the little sister said to big as the boy handed back the ravaged core. "That was good."
About half an hour after the smell of candy apple dissipated the bus filled with the smell of dill pickle. Big sister had pulled out a bag full of juice and a giant pickle like you see in old 50's films at the 'Soda Shop.'
She made quick work of the pickle and this time she completely ignored the longing stares of little sis.
Don't worry Little Sis, vengeance is coming soon. I just hope the toilet in your house is close to the door and properly aerated. The Lord of the Colon is going to teach big sister not to mix apples and pickles.
And your brother will get herpes his freshman year of highschool.
signed
May 18, 2006
---
*...who voted...
** Interpreted from the phrase "How could you not?" -Coolcat
Friday, June 09, 2006
Computer Animation/Kiss It/Letter 11
I know that I have maintained all along that I am a writer and not an animator. This is still true. But it never hurts to know the other aspects of your desired industry. You make yourself more valuable. And since right now my value seems to be sitting at:
SHIT + 0
I figure it couldn't hurt to diversify.
So this is GUS. Gus is a Ginger Bread man I rendered in Blender, a FREE animation program. He was a tutorial, so I can't take full credit. I also made him walk, but I couldn't figure out how to upload that. Besides, when he walks he looks kinda like he's recovering from polio. Anyway, here is my first attempt at Computer Graphics.
And for those of you who want me stick to writing and stay away from art I say, "Kiss It."
Letter 11:
Dear [adult swim],
Why is it everyone wants you to use a realtor to buy a house? My sister got screwed by her realtor in a business deal. The realtor walked away with five grand, after blowing the deal, and my sister walked way with no land. Still, "You've gotta have a realtor," she says.
My brother was looking for a house and he had a realtor. He also looked on his own, and on his own he found his next house. Still the realtor got to come to closing and collect a heafty commission. "You gotta have a realtor," he says.
I was curious. I wasn't about to hire a realtor to do a job I could do on my own. So last night I went to a small, local realtor, and asked her why I "need" her services.
"You gotta have a realtor," Paulette said.
"Why?" I asked.
"You gotta. We find your house."
"I can find a house," I said.
"Well, what about closing? You have to know how to close."
"All you have to do is sign the papers."
"But which ones?" she asked, thinking she was clever.
"All of them?" I guessed, and she paused for several seconds. "But where do you sign them?" she asked.
"Where it says signature?" I guessed again.
She rubbed her chin, then quickly she jumped up and pulled the candlestick on the wall. Instantly a hole opened up in the floor and my chair dumped me down it.
I hit the ground hard then waited in the dark for several long minutes. I heard a steel door open, then I froze in terror as two glowing, cat-like eyes approached me. When the figure came into view it was my realtor dressed in skimpy clothes. I thought she was purring. "You know you want me... to be your realtor," she said and rubbed herself against me.
"No," I said. "I don't."
"YES! YOU DO!" she yelled and jumped back. Then, before I could say anything else, she hit me with a long leather whip.
"Ow!" I yelled. "Damn."
Crack! Crack!
She whiped me again and again. "Ok! Ok!" I hollered. "You can be my realtor." I sank to the ground, defeated and panting. I looked up at her silhouette in the light of the door. Then, from the dark corners of the room I noticed figure after figure, all with whips, walk by her and out the door. "He broke easy," one said. "You are the real estate goddess, Paulette," another said.
"Yes," she replied, and slowly laughed.
signed
May 17, 2006
Friday, June 02, 2006
Behind again/Letter 10
Yet again I am behind. My trip to Valdosta really cruded up my speed. I may have to just accept another skip in letters. As it is I am over a week behind; approximately 10 days.
This weekend probably won't be much better. I'll probably spend most of my time trying to figure out how to work After Effects. I bought the program on E-bay. I got a good deal on it, but it didn't come with a book. I knew it wouldn't because it had a DVD tutorial. But the DVD tutorial doesn't work in my computer or my DVD player. So now I get to do the trial and error approach and After Effects isn't one of those programs you can just sort of "figure out" like Powerpoint or Excel.
Simulation:
Hey, what does this button do? Oh, it erases everything I've done so far.
Letter 10:
Dear [adult swim],
You like to think when you are on the bus that the driver is highly skilled and knows how to handle what he/she is doing.
When I got on the bus I assumed the driver was just having a bad day. She was a fairly young lady and as I climbed on the bus a single tear slid down her cheek as she stared at the dashboard. I hat to sound chauvinistic, but I assumed it was boyfriend troubles. I was not the only one to assume this.
After we had been driving for about 20 minutes the driver absolutely burst into tears. The bus shimmied and everyone started paying attention.
"Girl," one lady said, "Is it man troubles?"
The driver stopped bawling and shook her head.
"Come on, girlfriend," the lady continued, "I know man troubles. Is he cheating?"
"No," she said and sniffed.
"Then what's wrong?" the lady asked. "Why are you crying and driving all crazy?"
With that the driver started crying again and said, "I don't know how to drive this thing."
"Oh nonsense," the lady said. "You're doing fine."
"No," she fussed, "I'm not. I've had my eyes closed for the last five minutes. I keep forgetting which pedal is the gas and which is hte break. I don't know what any of these buttons do, and I have no idea where we're going," and she trailed off into a whine.
I looked around the bus and everyone was bug-eyed. One man hollered angrily, "You have to have experience to drive a bus!"
"No," the driver sniffed. "Just a clean record."
"But you have that, right?" the lady encouraged.
"Yeah, but I've only had my license for a month and today is my first time on the interstate."
Immediately there was a line of people at the back door fighting to be the first to jump off. One man finally struggled through and broke free. He hit the ground running. No sooner had he gained his footing was he hit from behind by a Ford Expedition. On contact he burst into a cloud of money; some bills, but mostly nickels and pennies that went rolling across the highway.
"No way," the next man said, "My life's worth more than that." And in agreement we all returned to our seats.
Turns out the driver really was mad at her boyfriend, but she was too embarrassed to admit it. She apologized, but that really doesn't help the family of the guy who jumped.
When I close my eyes I still see the cloud of dollars and the pennies and nickels rolling away. I knew I should have brought my net today.
signed
May 16, 2006
This weekend probably won't be much better. I'll probably spend most of my time trying to figure out how to work After Effects. I bought the program on E-bay. I got a good deal on it, but it didn't come with a book. I knew it wouldn't because it had a DVD tutorial. But the DVD tutorial doesn't work in my computer or my DVD player. So now I get to do the trial and error approach and After Effects isn't one of those programs you can just sort of "figure out" like Powerpoint or Excel.
Simulation:
Hey, what does this button do? Oh, it erases everything I've done so far.
Letter 10:
Dear [adult swim],
You like to think when you are on the bus that the driver is highly skilled and knows how to handle what he/she is doing.
When I got on the bus I assumed the driver was just having a bad day. She was a fairly young lady and as I climbed on the bus a single tear slid down her cheek as she stared at the dashboard. I hat to sound chauvinistic, but I assumed it was boyfriend troubles. I was not the only one to assume this.
After we had been driving for about 20 minutes the driver absolutely burst into tears. The bus shimmied and everyone started paying attention.
"Girl," one lady said, "Is it man troubles?"
The driver stopped bawling and shook her head.
"Come on, girlfriend," the lady continued, "I know man troubles. Is he cheating?"
"No," she said and sniffed.
"Then what's wrong?" the lady asked. "Why are you crying and driving all crazy?"
With that the driver started crying again and said, "I don't know how to drive this thing."
"Oh nonsense," the lady said. "You're doing fine."
"No," she fussed, "I'm not. I've had my eyes closed for the last five minutes. I keep forgetting which pedal is the gas and which is hte break. I don't know what any of these buttons do, and I have no idea where we're going," and she trailed off into a whine.
I looked around the bus and everyone was bug-eyed. One man hollered angrily, "You have to have experience to drive a bus!"
"No," the driver sniffed. "Just a clean record."
"But you have that, right?" the lady encouraged.
"Yeah, but I've only had my license for a month and today is my first time on the interstate."
Immediately there was a line of people at the back door fighting to be the first to jump off. One man finally struggled through and broke free. He hit the ground running. No sooner had he gained his footing was he hit from behind by a Ford Expedition. On contact he burst into a cloud of money; some bills, but mostly nickels and pennies that went rolling across the highway.
"No way," the next man said, "My life's worth more than that." And in agreement we all returned to our seats.
Turns out the driver really was mad at her boyfriend, but she was too embarrassed to admit it. She apologized, but that really doesn't help the family of the guy who jumped.
When I close my eyes I still see the cloud of dollars and the pennies and nickels rolling away. I knew I should have brought my net today.
signed
May 16, 2006
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)