WARNING. In case you haven't noticed… I do not like the concept of giant fighting robots. They're just too impractical. Oh! Hey! Instead of making practical weapons like guns and tanks, let's build a gazillion-foot-high metal thing that will cost billions of dollars to make and will go through resources like poop through a sieve, just so we can watch it get blown to pieces! That's TOTALLY worth our time and money!" Yeesh.
Hello, TEO fans! I am very, very sorry for the crappy coloring this week. (Especially in Panel Five. In case you can't tell, those are laser guns that just popped out of the Midnight Run's chassis. We will have laser guns in the future, and unlike jetpacks, they will be exactly as cool as we think they will be, if not more. Also, they will glow in the dark, as you can see here.)
You see, for all of this weekend I have been drawing this comic under the influence of a fever, a runny nose, and general overall illness and malaise. I believe I have come down with the common disease referred to by medical experts as "The Creepin' Crud".
Were I not sick, I could tell you about the very hectic and exciting two weeks I just went through, with events including:
~An ultimately fruitless trip up to Pittsburgh with a classmate of mine to check out the Art Institute up there (not to mention the awkwardly silent car ride home) ~My attendance with a friend to a They Might Be Giants concert, which, in the words of another classmate's older brother, "rocked my ass out of my head and back into my seat" ~The entire run of The Phantom Tollbooth, which went off without a hitch ~The bizarre bacchanalia that was the Phantom Tollbooth cast party ~My sudden ownership of a dark blue 2000 Chevy S-10 pickup– quite sweet, but my dad has started to believe it is his and not mine (which is OK for now since I can't drive, but will inevitably become sort of creepy) ~My taking of two out of three AP tests I have to take this month (the next is on the 11th) ~My taking of the SATs, which were unusually easy
All of these and more I could expound at great length about, but I can't, because my stomach feels like a cement mixer and my head feels like a Mylar party balloon in a high wind.
But don't worry, there's hope.
For the price of hopefully more than a cup of coffee per day, you can help pay for much-needed supplies to battle this fever (Tylenol, orange juice, new CDs). Remember, we can overcome this together. Donate as much money as humanly possible to the Help Ian Jay Stop Feeling Like He's Going To Die fund today.
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