Time Change Chaos

I’m not used to the time change. No, I’m not going to go-off about it or anything. After all, this is the GOOD time change, right? Extra hour of sleep. You know, this is the one most people like.

I don’t mind it, but I think I’ve taking it’s original intention a little too far. I find myself not wanting the extra hour – but two to three extra hours instead. Like, I’m taking advantage of it. Almost like I keep borrowing time from, well, Father Time, without paying him back. And it’s ruining my normal productivity.

Above: Some kid borrowing something (looks like an egg – sunnyside up) from Father Time

I figured I would wake up all bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed now that I get the extra hour in. Nope. I feel more tired. And in the evenings, I am starting to get tired around nine instead of eleven. It’s all out of whack.

Here’s my mornings – BEFORE the time change:

ME: “Well, it’s morning. HELLO WORLD! Time to get up! Coffee needs made. Oh yea!”

Here’s my mornings now:

ME: “uGGGH. Mppph…..”

Here’s my evenings around nine PM – BEFORE the time change:

ME: “I’m so glad there aren’t shows like that God-awful Friends on anymore. Plenty of better options. I couldn’t stand that Joey character. Where’s that remote? Cheese and crackers sound good about now. Mmmm. Or wait, do I want Cookie Crisp instead? Hmm.”

Above: Joey: The lowest form of comedy ever broadcast on network television. Period.

And around nine PM now:

ME: “uGGGH. Mppph….”

And a bit later:

ME: “uGGGH. Mppph….”

I’ll get used to it. It seems to be taking longer than usual this time around though. I guess I don’t adjust well to change. But then again, I change my clothes everyday without any setback.

Like I mention though – I’m not complaining. I’m a known insomniac. In fact, I’m lucky for all the sleep I’ve been getting. But, like my jokes, insomnia for me isn’t consistent. Which is good for, well, sleep.

What will happen is I’ll get used to the time change, and then it will be time for the other time change (in the spring).

Oh well. I stayed awake this long to write this post. After you reading this and wasting your time on this shit, you’re probably wishing I didn’t.

A Week of My Cartoons From October 31st to November 6th

Something new for you here that I thought I’d try to hopefully grab your attention is a roundup of the past week of my Break of Day cartoons. I’ll be adding in my little comments about them, explain a few of them and whatever else comes to mind. I can only assume it might be a bit repetitive if you read my work already and then I just post them up without anything else to offer. But don’t worry! I’ve got stuff to say. Nothing too insightful, but hey – what post of mine are?

So, I like to think of my little tour de force as my “wrap-up” show. Even though it’s not a show – it’s a post.

Today, we’re starting off on a holiday. Yes, that’s right, kids – HALLOWEEN! Thou it’s over, here’s where the comics begin from a week ago.

Above: October 31st cartoon

Aaa, good ol’ Alfred Hitchcock. He’s been a viable source of comedy for a lot of my work. It shows how good of a director he was when decades later, people of all ages still can get the Bates Motel reference. That makes my work easy! Thank God he didn’t have this movie take place in a Super 8 or something. Have you slept on their sheets? Now THAT’S scary!

This idea stemmed from the last line in the movie when it’s mentioned how Norman Bates and his mother (well, spoiler alert – they’re actually the same person in this movie) “wouldn’t harm a fly”. Yes, yes they would. In fact, if a fly took a shower, it would probably be a pretty disturbing scene.

Above: November 1st cartoon

This one – a LOT of people didn’t seem to get the reference or get it (from what I could gather from the comments). Even people that watched The Shining (which is what this cartoon is from – der!). But for me, this was one of those personal comics that was fun for me to draw and make. And it made me laugh – so at least one person got the gag.

My caricatures can suck on some level. I get them good on occasion – other times, not so much. A few people didn’t think this looked like Jack Nicholson. What I did was trying to make him the way Jack looked in The Shining (early 80’s) – not currently. And I went off a picture from the movie – and honestly, he kinda looked like this. Did I nail the caricature? Eh, could have been better. Did I make a good cartoon? Well, it’s a fave of mine. I do wish I would’ve put an axe in the background, but oh well.

Above: November 2nd cartoon

I’ve never tried to count sheep to get to sleep. Does that work? I would have more fun counting elephants or toasters hopping over a fire pit. But, I guess if you can’t count to begin with – it wouldn’t matter.

Above: November 3rd cartoon

The joke on this was actually an idea I got from watching the movie Me, Myself and Irene with Jim Carrey. He (Carrey’s character, Charlie) had three sons that looked nothing like him (if you’ve seen the movie, you know what I’m talking about). So, with this snake believing that his kids are his – it either shows a wild case of adultery with the snakes significant other (like, she had worm babies) or just a case of mistaken identity. More so, it’s just a pretty dumb snake.

Above: November 4th cartoon

“Step right up, ladies and gentlemen!” blared over the loud-speaker as everyone was about to check out the high wire act. And shortly afterwards, a cruel collapse due to having a morbid swing partner leads to a “Auughhh!” followed by a thump. Well, unless – let’s just say – there was a safety net. But, picture the next panel as you will.

I’m not a fan of the circus. I don’t like how animals are treated, but I wont get into a rant about that. Mostly, it’s the creepy clowns and annoying organ grinders.

And high wire acts? They can be entertaining. I like my take on it. THAT would be entertaining!

Above: November 5th cartoon

It would be like a missing person walking around with their picture on a missing person t-shirt. Awkward.

Above: November 6th cartoon

Ant farms are a goldmine for good ideas. I’ll be having more ant farm cartoons coming out throughout the next several years – or my lifetime – whatever comes first. If ants could talk, I would love to hear what they think about their surroundings in a encompassed, plastic farm life. Would they sit out on the porch and talk about the weather like most farmers?

ANT: “Welp, I heard it’s supposed to be dry the next few days.”

ANT 2: “Yup.”

ANT: “The weather sure don’t change much around here.”

ANT 2: “Yup.”

ANT: “I reckon it’s not going to change anytime around here.”

ANT 2: “Yup.”

ANT: “Welp, good talkin’ to ya’.”

ANT 2: “Yup.”

Guy Fakes, er….Fawkes!

Growing up and to this day, I’ve always heard from various relatives and sources that there’s a good chance that I – yes, me – am related to Guy Fawkes.

Don’t know who Guy Fawkes is? Well, many here in America don’t. But, if you lived in England you might be more clued in. Here’s what Wikipedia has to say about the fellow:

—

Guy Fawkes (13 April 1570 – 31 January 1606), also known as Guido Fawkes, the name he adopted while fighting for the Spanish in the low countries, belonged to a group of provincial English Catholics who planned the failed Gun Powder Plot of 1605.

Fawkes was born and educated in York. His father died when Fawkes was eight years old, after which his mother married a recusant Catholic. Fawkes later converted to Catholicism and left for the continent, where he fought in the Eighty Years War on the side of Catholic Spain against Protestant Dutch reformers. He travelled to Spain to seek support for a Catholic rebellion in England but was unsuccessful. He later met Thomas Wintour, with whom he returned to England.

Wintour introduced Fawkes to Robert Catesby, who planned to assassinate King James I and restore a Catholic monarch to the throne. The plotters secured the lease to an undercroft beneath House of Lords, and Fawkes was placed in charge of the gunpowder they stockpiled there. Prompted by the receipt of an anonymous letter, the authorities searched Westminster Palace during the early hours of 5 November, and found Fawkes guarding the explosives. Over the next few days, he was questioned and tortured, and eventually he broke. Immediately before his execution on 31 January, Fawkes jumped from the scaffold where he was to be hanged and broke his neck, thus avoiding the agony of the mutilation that followed.

Fawkes became synonymous with the Gunpowder Plot, the failure of which has been commemorated in England since 5 November 1605. His effigy is often burned on a bonfire, commonly accompanied by a firework display.

—

Is it true? Is this guy (Guy Fawkes, that is) a distant relative? Cool!

Okay, hold on there. I’m not too sure about the facts. After all, I didn’t look any of this up on ancestry.com, so who knows what the truth is.

BUT – from what I’ve been told – Fawkes, when translated, is Fakes. Which, if you think about it, could make some sense.

However, from what I do know, I’m mostly German. And this is an Englishman. Hmm….

So, why am I bringing this up now? Well, thanks to Occupy Wall Street and Halloween – if he IS a relative, I think I’m subject to some good royalty checks, considering my relative has the hottest mask on the market right now!

Check out some of these party pics from the last month or so:

Above: Thug Wall Street!

Above: Sporting the mustache! Very cool, bro!

Above: Hey, man, it’s backwards. Dumb shit.

Above: More party goers! Whoop-whoop!

Above: A couple of Fawkes next to their vacation cottages

Above: Um, what’s the message here, Mr. Fawkes? Awkward.

AND WAIT! THERE’S MORE!!!

Above: Could this be further proof that I’m a relative of his? I’m indecisive, too!

Above: I’m starting to think these Fawkes are party bashers! Not cool!

Above: A Fawkes and his girlfriend? They might be going steady – or pickpocketed

Above: No, buddy, it goes ON the face. ON!

Above: Why isn’t the mask wearing anybody?

Above: Dataran – the name of the port-o-potty – and yes, it’s occupied

Above: “Kumbaya, my Lord. Kumbaya. EVERYBODY! I WANNA’ HEAR YOU! Kumbaya…”

Above: The Occupy Wall Street version of Mrs. O’Leary’s cow

Above: More party people!

Guy Fawkes mask incorporated has to be raking in the money. If this IS a relative of mine, I’m guessing that the translation of all of this is Guy Fakes mask – therefore, me – along with the rest of us Fakes’ (oh yes, there are quite a few of us) are really missing the boat. Should I get a lawyer?

I really need to get on this as soon as possible and make sure I’m related. With the holidays coming up, what kid WOULDN’T want a Guy Fakes mask? I can’t think of any.

Above: The PERFECT stocking-stuffer!

So, I’ll be doing some investigative work into this. I could even coin myself “The REAL Guy Fakes” if I needed to. But, baby steps. Let me find out if I even have a slice of history tying me into this mask-mega cash machine that was inspired by the one-and-only Mr. Guy Fawkes.

I’m expecting the royalty checks to be rolling in at any moment.

Copyright 2011 N. Fakes

Am I Abusive to My Smoke Detector, or Is It Abusive Toward Me?

So our apartment has a kitchen. Shocked? Probably not. It even has a sink (even bigger shocker!). Here’s the deal though: Whoever designed our place put the smoke detector practically right over the oven. So, ever time I cook – the shitty thing will go off.

And I don’t even have to cook. I can just preheat the oven, and it will beep.

Here’s a typical scenario when I’m about to cook.

ME: “Mmmm….burgers! Well, these will be good for dinner.”

A few moments later…

ME: “But if I cook the burgers, it will set off the smoke detector….”

Oh, and something I forgot to mention – we DON’T have an exhaust fan. So, this kind of builds into the story a little bit more.

ME: “If I cook the burgers, not only will the smoke detector go off, but it will get very smoky in here, because we don’t have any ventilation. Hmm….what to do? I. Don’t. Know.”

Considering that there’s actual food in our place, I can’t just let it go to waste, so I opt for risking it and grilling the burgers on the stove. Well, actually broiling them. No, we don’t have a grill or anything outside. Why? Because we don’t have a patio or balcony. If we tried that, we’d fall out of our window. (Which, we’d be stupid to do considering there’s no grill outside our window.)

ME: “Maaaan…this is going to get ugly. Ugly. Like, Whoopi ugly.”

Here’s something else. Our smoke detector doesn’t have a way to temporarily turn it off. And to make it more aggravating, if you remove the batteries, it will beep at you ever 15 seconds. Yea, it’s hardwired like that. Jerk.

ME: “Mmm….burgers!”

Above: A burger that was probably made without too much aggravation – except for the cow

So, I put them on the broiler. It’s not so bad at first. Just a little heat, but no smoke alarm is going off. Why not? Here’s a little trick I did discover: Put a plastic bag over the smoke alarm, and it doesn’t go off as easily. That’s right…suffocate the thing.

Above: No, it’s not a ghost, silly. It’s what my smoke detector looks like with a bag over it. Kinda.

But the smoke detector is possessed. I believe a little part of Satan himself lives in there. Doesn’t like smoke? I think it might be the opposite. It seems to thrive on it. I mean, what other appliance gets that excited over heat and smoke. Devil. Some might say its doing it’s job, but I think it’s gone rogue. I think during a REAL fire, it would probably just shut up.

Above: A normal smoke detector. Not possessed. Probably bought at Wal-Mart.

ME: “Burgers are looking yummy! Lets see…I’ll need some ketchup, mustard and mayo to go wi – Oh, crap! Look at all the smoke!”

The apartment slowly starts to immense itself with some clouds. And you know, it’s not that good smelling cloud for some reason. You know, the kind you smell at Burger King (except in their restrooms).

ME: “Is this worth it?”

I slowly start to wonder why we even bought burgers. We knew we’d have to cook them. And our only way is stove. We don’t even have a microwave. Schucks.

And looking at the burgers, they have a ways to go. In other words, I can’t just take them off the broiler. If I do that, they’ll be as pink as – well – pink stuff. Gross. I like them well done.

ME: “Auughh! The smoke! (cough) This stuff is getting bad. I can’t even see (cough) the television anymore. I know it’s, like, ten (cough, cough) feet away.”

And then.

FIRE ALARM: “BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!”

It just loves to have that gentle pause.

Frantically, and with aggression, I try to hit the temporary “off” button on the thing. But, it’s hard to see with a plastic bag over it.

ME: “I hate you, fire alarm. (cough) Or smoke detector. Whatever you want (cough) to call yourself, Satan.”

I can’t find the button, so I start to hit it. Making it more upset.

FIRE ALARM: “BEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEEP!”

It’s getting angry. But, I don’t care. So am I. I have to live with the noise, smoke and….wait a minute. I think my burgers are almost done!

If I was wearing a wife beater, this moment would look like a domestic dispute between owner and appliance. I was smacking it. Hard. Even hitting harder.

Above: Nate abusing the smoke detector.

The fire alarm stops for a few seconds. It will do that until it realizes it’s not done yet. There’s plenty of smoke left to make me well aware of, even though it’s obvious to me since I can’t see my television – and now my couch has disappeared.

ME: “Well, at least I’ll have (cough) a tasty burger.”

I get the burgers out of the broiler. And now it’s time for a relaxing meal.

No it’s not! We all know that. The fire detector, smoke alarm thingy still is rattling off a few more beeps. I’m constantly walking back up to it trying to push it’s “relax, it’s okay, buddy” button that quiets it.

ME: “I give up (cough). I’m sitting in a smoke (cough) filled room, eating a tasty burger, but the enjoyment of the taste is trumped by the (cough) annoying beeps and smoke.”

FIRE ALARM: “Beep”

ME: “Oh, a quick one! Nice.”

FIRE ALARM: “Beep”

ME: “Next time, I’m going to Wendy’s.”

At the end of the night, the apartment is still smoky. Ventilation is a no-no here. It’s worse than a cigar lounge. But, I did eat some tasty burgers. Totally NOT worth it, but I did eat them regardless.

Above: Nate’s living room (without the exclusive beverage selection and rowdy crowd)

I looked at the smoke alarm the next morning, just trying to figure out a way that we could both get along. I mean, there HAD to be a temporary off switch – but there wasn’t. I had other people look at it throughout the week – and nobody could help. I looked at the manufactures website – nothing. I checked Google. Nothing. Why?

Smoke detectors are here to save lives. I’m sure they save many lives, and they’re an important appliance (I guess that’s what they’re considered) to have around. But, there are times, when….I hate ours. I can’t cook in my own kitchen anymore. I gave up.

And the landlords? There’s nothing that can be done. Mandatory.

The deal is though – I want to keep the smoke detector. Even if it is possessed. But, I want one that works with me – not against me. One that can be a cooking buddy and just shut up when told.

Not happening.

A few mornings ago – okay, this is going to sound weird – but I chatted a bit with it.

ME: “I’m preheating the oven now.”

SMOKE DETECTOR: (No response)

ME: “Shut up now, okay? So, you know, I don’t hit you.”

SMOKE DETECTOR: (No response)

ME: “Why am I talking to a fire alarm? Hmmm…who knows. Okay, now, what was I going to have for lunch?”

10 minutes later:

SMOKE DETECTOR: “Beep!”

ME: “SHIT!!!”

No more burgers have been served since. Oven is still being preheated and used, but typically for things I just have to heat up. It’s not worth it. My place still has a lingering odor. Like a smoker used to live here or something – except it’s that musky oven smell. Hard to describe. I’d say it’s a mix between smelling a wet sock that was sitting in a charcoal grill for a couple of days.

I feel like a beaten man. Beaten by an appliance that I have no control over. I like vacuums so much better. We get along great (probably because we don’t have one).

So, what’s the moral? Don’t build smoke detectors over a kitchen. OH – and make sure exhaust fans are around. Exhaust fans are your friends. Remember that.

Copyright 2011 N.Fakes