Okay. That'll teach me to be butch.
So, what do you do when you've only got two days till you're going on holiday, you have a list of chores longer than a gorilla's arm and it's dark cold and you're tired? I up my workload. Sleep is for wusses. Yeah. Bloody idiot. Do one page for my weekly strip? Not difficult enough! Do two! In full colour! With effects and continuity! ... I suppose at least I wasn't doing animations, too ... half an hour experimenting with compression levels at the end of it all would have been truly gruesome. And it is the end of it all: I've finally finished the last of my stories from hell (from The Fall to The Hole), though it took me two pages to do it. Damian asked me if there was an overall title, and I couldn't think of one, but stories from hell probably covers it; not a firey hell with demons and stuff, but a cold hell, dark and lonely, swept by freezing winds. (... where people you have loved and failed turn their backs to you, endlessly ...) The ending is an homage, but I can't say to whom (a friend has it on loan), though, once again, just as the story will mean more to me than anyone else, the stolen story-element is probably clearer to me than to anyone else.
And pop goes the network!
Just back from my Christmas lunch, actually made a work appointment there, I hate that, can't you just have fun, separately? Secret Santa gave me a quiety kinky steel and rubber necklace (the sort that could go with a dress or leathers) and a pair of stripping santa earrings. I just don't seem to be able to keep my reputation out of the gutter. I wouldn't mind if I got more fun out of it.
And pop goes the network! ... though it is a different error from this morning. Damn it, just five minutes!
Back, very briefly doubtless. Must work fast, fast, fast.