On that note, here's one for the bee lovers.
This one cracks me up all out of proportion. I think it's the panic of the woman switching to her line in the last panel ("CIRCUSES ARE UP TO A THREE HEAD MINIMUM!")
The Boy and I keep saying it to each other whenever something causes us to stress out. ("Shit, I have to get the drive belt replaced on my car, and that's going to screw my budget totally and Christmas is coming and I'm not ready and" [interrupting] "CIRCUSES ARE UP TO A THREE HEAD MINIMUM!")
It's very effective at short-circuiting panic.
ION, I have to head out to a Christmas dinner-y thing that's also a high-school reunion-type thing that I would ordinarily avoid like the Black Death, but the two women who I'm actually still friends with said that they'd go if I go, and so we made a pact, and now I have to go eat salad with women I didn't like 20 years ago. Bah.
I like that one too, Tep. I love Wondermark.
I like that one too, Tep. I love Wondermark.
There are some fairly weird-ass ones that I don't get (or at least don't get why it's funny/supposed to be funny). But that happens with xkcd, too. On the whole, I love Wondermark and xkcd.
Okay, going to the reunion thing.
Okay, here is the funny-yet-horrifying story of what happened to me last night. Remember that I had severe gastric distress, so be prepared. It is totally TMI.
After a long time in the bathroom, during which I thought I had, um, cleared out my entire digestive tract, I got ready for bed. Jason went into the bathroom for his own ablutions. We have another bathroom just outside the back door (freaky design by the former owners, don't ask) and I then realized I had an urgent need for it. I ran out the door, and was in the bathroom frantically trying to untie my pajama pants and, well, was unable to remove them in time. So then I was out there, filthy, shaking and faint and TOTALLY HUMILIATED. I stripped off my clothes and cleaned up. I went across the yard to put them in the garbage can, on my tiptoes so I wouldn't step on a stray twig at which point Jason came to the back door. At seeing me standing in the middle of the freezing backyard, naked, on my tiptoes, he looked totally confused. I told him I did NOT want to talk about it and then went inside and took the world's longest shower.
Thus are the tender intimate moments of marriage.
Scrappy, you poor thing. I hope those weren't favorite jammies.
Yeah, they were. When I got into our office this morning, he was already on the internet looking for replacements for me. Because he's awesome that way, even if he did call me "poopy pants" all day.
Because he's awesome that way, even if he did call me "poopy pants" all day.
Ah, he's related to my husband.
And yet, we don't kill them.
I'm sorry you had to go through that, Scrappy, but that's terribly funny and your husband is very sweet. As we already knew, but more evidence is always nice.
he was already on the internet looking for replacements for me. Because he's awesome that way, even if he did call me "poopy pants" all day.
Bratty, sweet and ridiculously charming all at once.
