I'm Comic Sans, Asshole.

Listen up. I know the shit you’ve been saying behind my back. You think I’m stupid. You think I’m immature. You think I’m a malformed, pathetic excuse for a font. Well think again, nerdhole, because I’m Comic Sans, and I’m the best thing to happen to typography since Johannes fucking Gutenberg.

You don’t like that your coworker used me on that note about stealing her yogurt from the break room fridge? You don’t like that I’m all over your sister-in-law’s blog? You don’t like that I’m on the sign for that new Thai place? You think I’m pedestrian and tacky? Guess the fuck what, Picasso. We don’t all have seventy-three weights of stick-up-my-ass Helvetica sitting on our seventeen-inch MacBook Pros. Sorry the entire world can’t all be done in stark Eurotrash Swiss type. Sorry some people like to have fun. Sorry I’m standing in the way of your minimalist Bauhaus-esque fascist snoozefest. Maybe sometime you should take off your black turtleneck, stop compulsively adjusting your Tumblr theme, and lighten the fuck up for once.

People love me. Why? Because I’m fun. I’m the life of the party. I bring levity to any situation. Need to soften the blow of a harsh message about restroom etiquette? SLAM. There I am. Need to spice up the directions to your graduation party? WHAM. There again. Need to convey your fun-loving, approachable nature on your business’ website? SMACK. Like daffodils in motherfucking spring.

When people need to kick back, have fun, and party, I will be there, unlike your pathetic fonts. While Gotham is at the science fair, I’m banging the prom queen behind the woodshop. While Avenir is practicing the clarinet, I’m shredding “Reign In Blood” on my double-necked Stratocaster. While Univers is refilling his allergy prescriptions, I’m racing my tricked-out, nitrous-laden Honda Civic against Tokyo gangsters who’ll kill me if I don’t cross the finish line first. I am a sans serif Superman and my only kryptonite is pretentious buzzkills like you.

It doesn’t even matter what you think. You know why, jagoff? Cause I’m famous. I am on every major operating system since Microsoft fucking Bob. I’m in your signs. I’m in your browsers. I’m in your instant messengers. I’m not just a font. I am a force of motherfucking nature and I will not rest until every uptight armchair typographer cock-hat like you is surrounded by my lovable, comic-book inspired, sans-serif badassery.

Enough of this bullshit. I’m gonna go get hammered with Papyrus.

(a short imagined monologue by Mike Lacher)

It puts the lotion in the basket

Where do you go to find that peaceful yet productive self that you've inhabited before?

Where there's calm and grace, and practical motivation for geniunely living without squandering?

Where all the crazy in your head can be put to rest comfortably...preferably on a hammock?

Suggestions are welcome.

....

a stampede of horses

It's a Fantastic World

Jim and Bert at the Museum of Moving Image

Procrastination

I'm supposed to be writing my resume right at this moment. It's only been about 10 days since I've intended to work on it. And it's only been about four bazillion eons since I've written one. So it may be easy for you, my vast readership, to surmise that this blog entry is a visual representation of my lazy-ass-ness.

i also have this to show you:


That is all.

Who wants pie?

I feel lighter today.

Many factors play into this rare phenomenon. Yesterday was full of pleasantness: a slow workload, tsukemen miso, a good movie, a sunshower, a double rainbow, juicy gossip-mongering, some singing on the side. I'm inches away to being whiplash-free. And a new *opportunity* is on the horizon. If I ever did a cartwheel in my youth, I think I'd be attempting one right now.

This happy Ukrainian-like tune is like icing on the cake, although I prefer pie.
Beirut - East Harlem

This only means that my next descent is gonna be a stampede of horses.

If you do this in an email, I HATE YOU.

really slow morning. really long cartoon.
but damn if this didn't make me pee a little in my hiphuggers.



via the Oatmeal

Some (limited) girl crushing on....

Zooey Deschanel!

Yeah, i get it. Most of us are tired of her, what with the hype of that god-awful new show, her insertion into the indie music scene between films, and her new launch of a girl-friendly website with a vomit-inducing name. But looky, i can't hate on the song from "the Jerk."



Note the use of the uke. And you know how I feel about that.

Girl Crushing on....

Aubrey Plaza!

Born Jamerican Apparel

This video for "Who's That? Brooown!" by the kings of wiseassery, Das Racist, makes me LMFAO, for reals. It features the 7 train! And that douchey bar in Murray Hill, Joshua Tree! And it has a dance battle in Williamsburg!!!

peaks and valleys and in between

Yesterday was manic, and then pleasantly novel, and then slightly exhilarating.

Today is another fucking day.

cell scenes

because some of these scenes may want to live somewhere outside of my mind or my phone.