The real Erica and Fuzzy were actually at two different concerts tonight -- Erica saw Gringo Star at Schubas and I was at Buddy Guy's Legends seeing Bryan Lee. We're equally deaf, though. Kids, use hearing protection!
Results matching “cartoon”
Schmuzzy and Schmerica are Schm-ed precisely so that their adventures don't have to have anything to do with our real lives. So I'm not saying we ate leftover ribs and catfish and then watched Spike Jonze music videos and Good Eats tonight, instead of going for a run. But I will let you know that we finally cracked open our Crystal Head Vodka tonight and were surprised to discover that it's really not that great of vodka. Thank goodness when we bought it we knew that we were paying half of the inflated price for the packaging alone.
Left to Right: Amanda Rountree, Michael Lehrer, Regan Davis, Fuzzy Gerdes, Scott Whitehair, Henri Dugas. (Photo by Erica Gerdes.)
You might be able to discern by that Chicago Public Radio totebag, filled with CPR and Wait Wait Don't Tell Me swag, that Michael Lehrer was this year's MAELSTROM winner. And it was well-deserved -- Michael is a kick-ass solo performer. Don Hall called me "incomparable", which either means I did well or that Don is just having trouble coming up with similies.
I told three stories based on the audience suggestions of "He's been in there for three days", "Kung-fu Master", and "Two nuns, three hobos, and nine squirrels". Before the show I had talked here about a certain kind of pre-show nervousness, but once I was in the space for the show I started remembering how electric the whole experience was. I do plenty of improv, but something about the competitive aspect of it, about being onstage with five other great performers, not knowing when Don is going to call your name, about the time limits -- it all adds up to a thrilling evening for, at least, me.
And, oh, the time limits. I'm writing this down for myself in case I do next year: don't forget about the time limits. The three rounds are three minutes, two minutes, and one minute and Don rings a bell when you've reached that time and you have 15 seconds to finish up. I think the thing to remember (and I forgot it onstage) is that in this context 15 seconds is actually pretty long -- for the one minute story it's another 25% of the length. I need to not panic when I hear that bell and instead give myself a few sentences to finish up. (I'm not sure what can be done about the opposite problem we all seem to have with the three minute story -- everyone seems to finish at about two-and-a-half minutes and then stretches to fill the time. Sometimes interesting discoveries come out of that; sometimes its just stretching.)
Friday night I did the MAELSTROM improvised story-telling contest and this was one of the topics I had to tell a story about. This cartoon makes about as much sense as the story I told. And I know, it's "mahogany". I drew the cartoon at the bar after the show.
The good and the bad. And, oops, I'm full of inaccuracies - I called it a harbor seal, but I think it's a gray seal.
In case you are not aware of all internet traditions, that's a Neil Gaiman-Three Wolf Moon-LOLCat laser-etched on beef jerky.
Bacon!
It's another wedding guestbook cartoon. Congrats Agnes and Kenner.
We had our Unflattering Portrait drawn by Reverend Aitor on Saturday in the window of Uncle Fun and it was a delightful afternoon with a delightful result. (Sunday afternoon, Becky Johnson was in the window working hard on her Security Envelope Button Project.)
Itza Fumetti!
I know, I know, swimming is the first leg. Believe me, it bugs me just as much as you when my cartoons are factually inaccurate.
I drew this one in the guest book at Rebecca Hanson and Tim Ryder's wedding on Friday night-- a major component of the reception buffet was a mashed potato bar. Among other things, that means that this is, I think, the first one of the series that I don't have. I'm such an archivist/pack-rat, that's a hard thing for me to let go of.
It was, in fact, Miss Teen South Carolina on Tosh.0 who said "outer body experience," but since she was on for Tosh's "Web Redemption" feature, I thought it best not to kick her when she was down, so I made the villain of the comic a generic "he". Those sorts of malapropisms do bug me, though. Stabby!
(Need a large size for dialog legibility?)
This comic is, unfortunately, two-thirds true. And then, in some sort of dramatic irony, the comic about the day ended up requiring the most post-production work of any comic so far, trying to get all that dialogue to fit. I really should look into how people layout their words and word bubbles, instead of forcing both of you faithful readers to decipher my chicken scratch.
(You're definitely going to need the large size of this one, if you want to read any of it. Unless your eyes are reeely good.)
It's a wedding-filled year and we've got two in the next two weeks. And, actually, I don't really like cake.
"I'm the pig of failure," I scrawled and tossed the notebook back on the nightstand. "It's not a real failure," Erica said, "it'd be a real failure if you didn't draw anything." So that's what the cat is saying. I'm a winner, indeed.
I mean, wouldn't you leave the banana suit on for a walk through Wrigleyville on a Saturday night?
Two days in a row, reality-based.
Zombies. That's all.
You'll probably need to see the large size to read my self-pity.
And on this one you might need the large size to read the brilliant dialogue.
It is, in fact, unseasonably cold here in Chicago.
I know, I know. I've got two "fifth string" tuning pegs and neither are in the right place. That's what makes it so eeeevil.