Personal Problem
The simians cosmonauts are back in today’s comic, which skirts the edge of the inter-species dating issue, then backs away and blushes at the use of the word “Skirt” as a verb.
PJ came over last night into our (my wife+me) new, still-cluttered upstairs office, which is awesome except for all the boxes and HeftyTM-brand trashbags full of books and software lying littered like wounded bodies full of fun. We’re going to get some bookshelves built in there to accommodate our tomes, but in the meantime, it looks like a start-up dot-com office, circa 1999, with wires everywhere and two computer desks unadorned with the inevitable toys and stickers.
PJ brought his laptop, lasso’d up some wireless Internet and we finalized some ideas for an upcoming comic and compared some iTunes tunes. It was a cool way to work — these comics are usually born out of IM conversations and the one we had last night would have been frustrating to try to formulate online. Now that I only live 20 minutes away, I’m hoping we’ll be able to do a little more of this.
A Monkey’s Wet Dream
A friend of mine was confused a bit by the last panel of yesterday’s comic.
I assure you there is nothing dirty to be read into it.
Can’t a monkey just have a recurring dream about online personal ads and squelching a sure-to-be lubricant-smooth process of mating and procreation, which pierces his mind back and forth; in and out, over and over again?
Man, I gotta get some cleaner friends.
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