Thank You For Being A Friend. Travel Down The Road And Back Again. Your Heart Is True. You're A Pal And A Confidant.

From time to time, more frequently this year, I sleep on our couch. I'm not sure why I do it. I guess it's a small space, so when my cat doesn't sleep directly against me, I feel like, at least it's something (ie. the back of the couch).

Anyway, for my birthday this year, Sly gave me four Golden Girls pillows, each with the face of one of the characters. I almost always end up sleeping on Blanche's face.
Last night, after having some pizza and watching The Catherine Tate Show, I suppose I passed out curled up on the couch, yet again, probably around midnight; Blanche's face pressed up against mine.

With that, I had an extremely realistic dream where I was sitting upright on the couch, and all four of the golden girls were casually sitting next to me, drinking tea, or coffee.
I was shocked, but comforted. All of them, even Sophia, gave me concerned looks.
It was like I was in an actual episode of The Golden Girls.

Blanche, who was crouched over the side of the couch, came around to sit directly next to me, and grabbed my hands.
I actually can't remember a lot of what was said except the occasional, "Honey", or "Sugah", or a clever quip made by Sophia or Dorothy.
Blanche and Dorothy tried to give me life advice, while Sophia said how absolutely absurd that was.
Rose, for the most part, was pretty silent.

It was still comforting.
It made me think of my Oma.
I really miss her.

I Would Totally Want Elvis To Be My Landlord. If By 'Land', You Mean My Vagina.

I've been trying to fill my days with activities that require me to be around at least one other person every day. It's the whole loneliness thing again.
So, TW and I decided that we would spend an entire day of "adventuring", which was really us going to Venice and walking around the beach while looking at all the artwork.

Before we left, I was painting the Jay post, and still had some wet paint on the table. Without even thinking about it, I sat right on it in my black work pants to put on my shoes.

I spent the next couple hours trying to scrub the white out.
And after a couple hours of trying, it faded enough where I wasn't satisfied, but too apathetic to continue.


After a long, and wonderful time at the beach, we decided to head home when we hit traffic on the 405 (like always).
TW has a bit of road rage, especially toward those laid back Californian drivers, and every so often would mutter some sort of obscenity.
A lot of cars were weaving in and out of the lanes, which only caused more traffic, and then we hit the bottle neck, and everyone to our right had to merge over.
TW slammed on the brakes, and was agitated for 10 minutes or so before yelling,
"SUCK A BAG OF DICKS!"

I got so confused (as you see in the video, so was Louis CK) when this happened. It's not the first time I heard this phrase before, but I never really thought about it either.
I asked her,
"A bag..? Or a sack..?"
To which she replied,
"Does it matter?"

I was very surprised!
Of course it matters, TW.
Of course.

It's the difference between a grocery bag that fits some essential items, and a human sized potato sack.
Which would you rather suck?
Neither.
But if you had to choose?
The grocery bag. Of course.

*Side note*
For those of you who don't know who Louis CK is; he's a comedian.
He's a pretty vulgar comedian actually, who I didn't like for a very long time because I thought he was too offensive for me.
As I got older, I realized that being offensive is one of the best ways to live, so I gave him another shot.

You've Blinded Me With Science!

So, to continue with my introductory:
Jay.

Jay is majoring in Physics. She's really ridiculously intelligent, and she's gorgeous to boot, so to be a bit intimidated by her is an understatement.

She is also a huge Detroit Red Wings fan. Her and TW, but more Jay. She even has an app on her phone whenever there is a game going on, just to know the scores.

The greatest thing about her, however, (other than finally convincing her that pizza is not evil) is her love of really horrible 90s TV shows.
No offense to anyone who was obsessed with these shows, but I was never really into teen dramas when I was a kid.
I liked, you know, Rocko, Kablam!, and Sabrina the Teenage Witch.
Beverly Hills 90210 was never on when I was growing up. No one in my family watched it.

But when Jay drinks enough, it's most likely you'll hear a thing or two about how wonderful Brandon Walsh is.
For those of you who do not know, Brandon Walsh is a fictional character on Beverly Hills 90210. He's played by the actor Jason Priestley.
He's one of the two "heartthrobs" that makes out with someone new, I swear, almost every episode. He's also the supposed "twin brother" to Brenda Walsh, played by Shannon Daughtery, who is dating the other "heartthrob", Dylan, until they break up in the 2nd season so he could be with Kelly! Oh god!

Yeah.

TW and Jay are subjecting me to 90210.
And I've come to the conclusion, the only amazing thing in the entire show is The Peach Pit.
Why doesn't this wonderful establishment exist? I want a Nat that I can talk to when I eat my fries at the local diner.
What the fuck, LA. You're supposed to be like the TV.

Pretty Pretty Please. Don't You Ever Ever Feel. Like You're Less Than. Fucking Perfect.

So, obviously, I have never had a webcomic in my entire life. I have no idea what to draw next, or if I should introduce anyone mainly because:

1. My life is not that terribly interesting. This is more of a therapeutic experiment than an entertaining gesture. I am not a comedian, and I am not here to amuse. (Insert Goodfellas quote here)

2. If I purposely go out and try to make my life funnier, or awkward, I'd feel like that would be cheating.

3. Making up things is not what this blog is about. See above.

I figure the only way to start, instead of just throwing randomness at you, is to introduce each person in my life, nicknames assigned, along with a story.

The stories will most likely be the most recent events.

With that said, (or written), drumroll please!

My first VICTIM(s) is/are:

My roommates/friends/people I hang out with the majority of the time. (Sorry guys.)

TW and Jay are my roomies and great friends. We moved to LA back in August from the midwest. They're both from Michigan, and have been friends since middle school.

TW and I have been friends since I was 15 years old/about 9 years now (fucking scary realization). Jay and I met at the beginning of last year.

I've never had a whole lot of experience living with girls other than my sisters.

When I was 18, I started living with my best friend, Kris, and then the Ex, who was just a friend back then, moved in with us. After that, I lived with him, the Ex, for about 4 1/2 to 5 years.

I digress. That's an entirely different story.

Living with TW and Jay has definitely made me embrace my femininity, and has helped with the loneliness in my life.

TW is a writer, and English major. And even though she puts on a front, breaking down her shell is very difficult, but warming. She is also absolutely, hopelessly obsessed, and in love with Elvis Presley.

She and I are in the same boat when it comes to how our lives are right now (except for the whole boy situation), so we recently decided to go out to a bar we had never been to, but I was always really interested in. It was British themed, and if you ask anyone, they will tell you how much I am in love with the English, so it was a trip that was long overdue.

Unfortunately, I hadn't met one Englishman the entire night, but my loneliness, sadness, and the small amount of alcohol in my system dominated my emotions.

I was determined to find another boy; someone to make me feel like I was attractive, interesting, and significant. On the prowl.

When I found a guy I thought was pretty attractive, things started to turn out well!

And then I was horrified.

Looks like I won't be doing that again for a while.

To make things worse, I woke up the next morning thinking about Freckles (aka the boy), of course.

Wonderful.

Trying to keep that optimistic attitude.

PS. Sorry for the wrinkles! I'll try to flatten my papers next time I use the water colors!

Moving On.

I know that this thing with the boy isn't working out. Him and Prim just went on a vacation, and I just keep thinking, Cupcake. You're not worth it.
And then I start feeling like Bridget Jones.
Thinking that I will die "fat and alone, and then eventually be eaten by wild dogs".

Or maybe I should just get a puppy...

Either way, it's definitely time to stop feeling like shit all the time, and move on. Have a good cry, and just move on.

New Year. New Life.

Ah, smell that imaginary ink on a fresh new Internet page. I've decided that the only way a fine art major like myself will stay distracted from life, or at least find the humor in it, is by starting up a brand spanking new blog, and a webcomic to go along with it.
Some people call me Cupcake, and this is my life.
Pardon the grammatical errors that will ensue.

Welcome, oder Willkommen!

So, to start from the beginning of 2011, I recently started dating a guy, who's in an open relationship (or a polyamory) with his girlfriend for 2 years, after breaking up with my boyfriend of 4 1/2 years.
He asked me to come over to spend the night one day, while she spent the night with someone else. She came home (they live together) the next morning, right after he made coffee...



Now, don't get me wrong. Despite the awkwardness, I still had a nice time. Maybe it'll be less awkward (although, I doubt it) when things aren't so new.