Happy Valentine’s Weekend, J!

From Dear Nancy Parker by various unknown hands.

I’ve been mostly absent these past few weeks because my demo has been occupying most of my attention. One of the more pleasant aspects of combing through my old work is stumbling across a piece I was sure had been lost. Such was the case with the scene sampled above, still one of my favourites.

Click to embolden!

I can’t pinpoint why, but this animation I can watch over and over and laugh every time. Maybe to me it’s the act of a man trying to maintain an image of sanity to the world around him that I love. Is this from a movie or a random maniac? It seems familiar for some reason.

Just when you thought I was done with derby here on I Was Ben, J. showed me the Maid of the Fists highlight reel, which includes the gang doing what we do best; eating bread, rocking cardigans and doling out el cronados, sometimes simultaneously.

This has got to be one of the greatest things I’ve ever seen on the internet.

“Garfield Minus Garfield is a site dedicated to removing Garfield from the Garfield comic strips in order to reveal the existential angst of a certain young Mr. Jon Arbuckle. It is a journey deep into the mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against loneliness and depression in a quiet American suburb. “

Click to embolden!

This was a free book from 7-11 that I really dug peelin’ my orbs all over. I really liked the solid art inside. I’ll have to get around to grabbing some more pics of the interiors to show off, but this pic of the cover’s my favourite anyways.

After months of grueling practices, massive bruises and elbows to the face, J. has been accepted into the ranks of the roller derby elite. Congratulations, sweets!

A bunch of us attended a roller derby bout in Buffalo over the weekend. The highlight of the night came when a bunch of roller girls took to the rink at halftime carrying bins full of loafs of bread. J. asked the person beside her what they were for, and she responded “They throw the bread, and you catch it.” It was like we were in Soviet-era Russia.

At first we were too bewildered to make the effort, but eventually Nagy came around and scooped a loaf of delicious rye out of the air. He had the plastic wrap torn open before he hit the seat again. Everyone else seemed to be saving theirs for when they got home. There was barely any left of Nagy’s loaf when we were through with it.