Justin-
Yeah, so I’m fairly certain I have spent about two days straight getting this site to a condition that I am happy with. I’ve been obsessively changing little tiny things all over and over again and I think I’m finally satisfied. While this has been the 294th most fun way to spend this time, the satisfaction rank now that I’m feeling sort of done is way higher than the fun rank.  I hope you all enjoy the new page, and do feel awesomely free to contact lots with input, ideas, or bitching and moaning.  Actually, keep the last two to your damn self.

Justin-

So today marks the first official day the site is running without error that I can find.  The new comic went up at midnight, just like it was supposed to, and all of our links seem to be working properly.  All the pages and pictures are showing up. (which is a much larger victory than you would expect)  Please try everything on the site, see if you can break it, or if anything is broken, and comment or contact me on it.  Today I started officially putting out notices to everybody, so tell your friends, and check out the new updates every week, Mon, Wed, and Fri.  Thanks for reading the comic!

Justin-

So if you want to burn a Sunday morning/afternoon doing nothing productive at all, just hit the Flea Market, that was my solution today.  I don’t know if everybody has a Flea Market near them, but imagine something halfway between a shopping mall and your weird great-aunts attic.  Then fill it with people who if you saw them in the mall, you would give them a wide berth, but you can’t here, because it’s so cramped full of crazy junk circa 1972 that you have to physically molest anybody just to pass them in an aisle.  Why do I go? clearly it’s not because of all the useful things there.  Maybe the one restaurant, that would be on my list of places to eat just below “Hey look at this hot dog I found under your tire when you backed up your Buick that has been parked for 3 years and has a bees nest in the trunk.”  Or maybe it’s to get some sort of ego-boost by silently mocking everyone around you for their obvious shortcoming.  Which leads me to the top 5 worst things about a Flea Market.

#1.  If you can find about which to silently mock everyone around you in a given location, then you must realize that you are not exempt, and there must be something horribly wrong with you.  If you don’t immediately know what it is, then it’s that much worse. (”I am here with these people” doesn’t count as the thing wrong with you.)

#2. Seriously, they prepare and serve food here?  Pretzels are not supposed to have icing and a man ordering a bear claw should not be offered ketchup packets as well.

#3. The two 10 year old girls chatting and flipping through a binder of Pokemon cards, only to pause when a customer comes up and would like to see one of the fine hand-blown glass water pipes from the case in their booth. (Nope, it was just the two of them working the booth.  No adult anywhere in site.  If you combined their ages they could barely buy cigaretts, and here there were selling “”tobacco water pipes”)

#4. If you are looking at a rare interesting find of some vintage Ninja Turtle action figures still in the packages, and a young girl behind you tries to strike up a flirty conversation, no matter how pretty her voice sounds, resist the urge to turn around and just respond politely and leave without looking at her.  You gotta trust me on this one.

#5. Smiling (or even making eye contact in some cases) with any of the sad, lonely, attention starved vendors will net you into a conversation lasting no less than 18 minutes regarding how much better (insert dated form of technology, i.e. telegraphing) was than (insert current form of technology i.e. text messaging).  I use th word conversation loosely, because you won’t be talking, simply releasing the occasional guttural grunt in an effort to excuse yourself politely.

Next Sunday I am sleeping in followed by watching Stargate reruns.  I won’t even need to shower to do this, where as today I felt the need to shower both before and after going to the Flea Market.