Ok, the blog is FIXED. I am not a web designer or tech-type, so it took me way longer than it should have.

Things I am doing:
Moving in to my new studio at UNLV.
Getting ready for my first show in Las Vegas.
Shooting at the Neon Boneyard with Charlie Chu, and going to Roller Derby Con.
Assistant teaching at UNLV in preparation to teach drawing this fall.
Cooking a lot. I can make a pretty mean pork tenderloin and parmesan chicken, and I made a (very pink) non-dairy strawberry pie.
Working out with my friend Miles who used to be a gymnast and who is now trying to teach me to walk on my hands. (I don’t think this is going to happen, but I am willing to keep trying!)
Working on CARRIER. Oh, neverending CARRIER, how I love you.

Thing not on my list: Going to SDCC. Yeah, I missed it this year, first time in 9 years. I am still a little bummed, if for no other reason than I would have liked to been around to see Comic Book Tattoo, which I have a (very short) story in (with Kelly Soup!). But with the wedding coming up, and my way reduced income (teachers make bupkis, y’all!), I just couldn’t afford it. Plus, I have nothing coming out any time soon that needs promoting, and Serpico will kill me if I take on anything else. So… yeah, no Nerd Prom for me.

Anyways, I am now all fixed, web-wise, and I am still thinking about what to do with this space. I want to keep promoting my work, but lately, it’s all CARRIER, all the time. I like talking about stuff that I obsessed with, so there is always that. (Lately, it’s the abuse of female soldiers in Iraq, and the government and Halliburton covering it up - more on this later.)

But I would like to have this kind of go towards being my journal of my experiences in grad school, my work processes, and… yeah, I don’t know what else. It’s a fucking blog, whadda ya want from me?

Dearest blog friends, how are you? No, really. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages. And that would be because - well, I haven’t.
I am neglectful, yes. Also, a touch unfaithful - I find that Twitter is really the place where I tend to put my deep thoughts on breakfast and the way that Bunny tosses her bowl around like a frisbee while she eats and how freaking HOT it is in Vegas. You know, the really meaningful stuff.
But, I feel like I can’t just shutter this blog. It’s like my first internet boyfriend: at first I was here every day, chatting about inanities, posting pictures of myself (not half naked, mind you - I’m not that kind of blog!) (anymore), just generally making out with the new internets medium like the tech slut I was. And then… well, shinier things caught my eye. And I also discovered the joys of leaving the house and exercise. And then, well, THEN… the real shift happened when I got an ACTUAL boyfriend, and I wanted to keep my private life, y’know, private. (Well, private-er. I am always going to to be be an oversharer.) Plus, I started working for actual money, which is always a rare treat, and tends to cut down on blog time. There were brief resurgences of the old feelings (I am still working with the metaphor of blog-as-boyfriend, but I think it’s falling apart). When the real boyfriend dumped me, I came running back to be miserable in your bloggy arms (because, where else should you be miserable except ONLINE WHERE EVERYONE CAN SEE?!), and then I moved cross-country, and then the real boyfriend realized how awesome I was and what a terrible mistake he’d made, and I moved cross-country AGAIN (note: your mileage my vary). And, again, this blog slipped into neglect.
I think the problem is… well, there are problems, really. The main one being - I don’t know what to do with this place. I like it. I like having a home on the interwebs. I like the friends I have made because of it. Honestly, I also like having a place where I can promote my work. (I still do that, you know. Work. For moneys.)
Life demands make it unlikely that I will blog daily about minutia - besides, I have the Twitters for that. Hmm… I should put my Twitter on here somehow. How the hell do you do that, anyways? (Which highlights another blog issue I have - this design feels very out of date. But, where am I going to find the time to redo it? )
So, should I turn this blog into a work blog? I’ve always kind of wanted to do that, but the term seems so undefined in my head. Does that mean you see sketches? Inks? Do I talk about process? I need to get better about talking about process anyways, since I am teaching now, so… hmm. Hmm, hmm, hmm.

Alright, internet - I put it to you: What the hell should I do with this blog?

I am going to add my voice to the chorus of people singing Rory Root’s praises. I can’t even begin to express my admiration for this man.
Rory was the first person that bought a copy of XXX LiveNudeGirls, and he was always incredibly encouraging to me. It was Rory who suggested that I visit the WEF, he got me to start posting there by calling me out and through him I met the most important people in my life.
Rory loved doing that - introducing people. Making connections. (That, and talking you into spending way more on comics than you should!) He was so generous with his time and enthusiasm, and he encouraged a whole generation of comix kids. He would host the drawing jams after APE at one of his beloved Indian restaurants, and he made the East Bay feel like a real community. When I worked at Image, every Wednesday the whole staff would end up in his store, spending our paychecks. You’d see everyone there - Dan Clowes and Adrian Tomine, any visiting artists would end up there.. Comic Relief is like Mecca for nerds. He’d put a signing together for you a the drop of a hat - he did that for Image, and once he even did it over a weekend when Ellis was in town, but also for the small guys - kids with their first books and old timers alike. He was just so generous and giving like that, y’know? He’d buy tons of mini-comics from struggling artists, getting them into stores for the first time, and never acting like they were any less important than any of the books from the Big Two. I remember how I felt when he bought my first ashcan, how important he made that feel. And later, he would sing my praises to anyone who would listen - one of the last times I saw him, he introduced me to one of his customers as “the very talented Laurenn McCubbin”. And then, ever the salesman, he said “Have you seen RENT GIRL? Here it is right here. Take a look at that! And, if you like that, you should check out some of the other work she has done…” That poor sucker never stood a chance. But no matter who you were, Rory would talk to you for hours, on any subject you could imagine. Comics, sure. Or beer and how to brew it, whiskey and how best to drink it, cooking, politics… he was an excellent conversationalist. He would just stand outside of his store on University for hours at a time, chatting away with his smokes in one hand and the ever present Giant Cup Of Coffee in the other.
I was talking to my friend Dan about how something should be named after him. Like a scholarship, or a grant for new artists. Or just a really good whiskey-based coffee drink. Something to remember him by, you know?
I regret that I never told Rory how important he was to me, how much his encouragement meant to me. I regret that I never told him how much he meant to all of us.
Goodnight, Rory Root. And thank you, so very much.

ANA Soldier

Originally uploaded by Phil Peterson Images.

My friend, photographer Phil Peterson, whose pictures of roller derby and burlesque girls you have seen on my blog, well… he went off to Afghanistan to work as an embedded photojournalist. Without, y’know, TELLING ANYONE.
Jesus, Phil. Please be safe.

(This now makes the second friend of mine who has fucked off to Afghanistan this year. My friend Glen is now a combat psych somewhere out there as well. Far braver than me, boys. Far, far braver.)

Happy birthday, Serpico. I love you.

Want a whole new way to feel special? How about your own personal paparazzi?
I just… I am just so… wow. I’m speechless.

…

…

(Yeah, that lasted for like, 5 seconds)

Look - I understand the need to feel special and unique. Myself, I have an ongoing problem with terminal uniqueness - I mean for fuck’s sake, here I am, blabbing away on the internets, posting my work, and in general shouting “notice me!” to an unknown amount of strangers. I like attention (ahem, Cancer with Leo rising, hel-loooo!), and I have often fallen on my face when trying to get it. But I recognize this for what this is, and, this… this is not a lifestyle for me, y’know? I do not make my life about posting on the internets, putting up half-nekkid pictures and expecting to be patted and petted and treated like a celebrity. I post my blatherings and my work as a means to an end, and never as an end in and of itself. I think that I have… perspective.
(I could, of course, be totally wrong - you should have seen me blanch when my sponsor suggested that I stop sharing my life with the internets. Not post? That would just be… weird.

So, why am I getting so worked up? Because I think the entire country, and parts of the rest of the world (UK, I’m looking at YOU!) have become infected with the Hollywood Virus. You may have heard me talk about it before - it’s the thing that happens to otherwise perfectly normal people when they get too close to Hollywood. They… shift. They get so close to the unique specialness that Hollywood provides that they begin acting in ways they could never have imagined before. It’s not just greed… or hell, maybe it is? Maybe wanting to be a celebrity is another kind of greed, a craving for attention that just consumes you, till the next thing you know, you have sold out your friends, your morals, your…

(Oh my god. OH MY GOD. Am I punkrockranting about people SELLING OUT? Jesus, I hope not.)
(Maybe I am. Wait, I have a point here. I’m getting to it. No really, I swear.)
(I blame Kieron Gillen for my love of parens.)
(Bastard.)

SO WHAT I WAS TRYING TO SAY IS… why on EARTH would anyone PAY to be chased by faux-parazzi? Is this the same thing that drives people to audition for reality shows, or make fools of themselves on American Idol? Why on EARTH would you want to do something like that with your life? CAN’T YOU SEE THEY ARE ALL LAUGHING AT YOU?

(This, of course, does not include anyone on my beloved Project Runway. They are all spiritual beings on a higher plane. Especially Tim Gunn.)
(Shut up, you.)

Maybe the laughing isn’t loud enough. Maybe every person who tries to get on reality tv thinks to themselves “It will be different for me. I won’t be like those others - everyone will see me for the unique beautiful creature I am, and America (and parts of Western Europe) will love me. Unconditionally. And no-one will ever take photos of my blood stained crotch and publish them on the internets.”

Dear people who try out for reality tv, rent paparazzi, or try REALLY HARD to become celebrities without having any disernable talent except for the ability to get a lot of plastic surgery:

Knock it off. You are freaking me out.

Love, Laurenn

Hey! Internet peeps! I need a favor:
Go look at my online portfolio, and tell me - which do you think are my strongest pieces? Like which pieces, if you were, say, on a Graduate Studies panel, would make you say “YES! This Laurenn McCubbin person should be a Masters student at our school! And, we should give a full scholarship! And some cupcakes! And a pony!”

I’d have to turn down the pony, however. Fuckers are impossible to feed.

“…This is a real paradox for me: My entire life I’ve been told I wasn’t pretty enough. My entire life I was told by people that I was ugly, that I was too tall, that I was flat-chested, that I was this, that I was that. When I was a stripper I was never quite pretty enough. I was never one of the beautiful girls. I was never one of the top earners. Suddenly I achieve something in my life that is purely intellectual and purely creative, and I’m being told that it’s because I’m pretty. To me that is the weirdest, most ironic thing ever. Like all of a sudden I’m attractive when it suits people’s purposes. But in the past when I needed to be attractive I was ugly. So let’s pick. Which is it?” — Juno screenwriter Diablo Cody

Have I mentioned that Jezebel is my favorite blog evar? It totally is. Even though they talk about the getting drunk a leetle too much for my comfort zone, but, hey - everyone needs a thing, y’know?

Speaking of things:

A) - I won an iPhone at my new job. Which is hilarious and awesome, and keeps me from wanting to slit my wrists ou of boredom at said new job. Why oh why did I ever think I could do corporate drudgery? Oh yeah… paycheck. Grr.

I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE RICH AND FAMOUS BY NOW, UNIVERSE! WHAT GIVES? How did I end up poor and infamous? Jeez.

B) - If you cannot tell, I am feeling a little sorry for myself at the moment. I shall knock it off in short order, but for right now, I am mired in a a massive “poor poor me” sulk.

C) - Adjusting to Vegas is hard. I am so homesick I can barely even think about Kelly Sue or Henry without bursting into tears. I miss my sponsor, I miss my meeting, I even miss the freaking SNOW. I know stuff will change - it has to, right? I mean, I’ll make friends and everything, won’t I?

Won’t I?

OH MY GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE OH MY GOD.

D) - Vegas is very dry. Seeing that it is a desert, I should not be so surprised. But I am. I have turned into an itchy alligator creature. Who is sulking about it.

E) - Bunny has discovered the joys of cat poop. Oh jesus.

Ok, I am going to Target now. THE EXCITEMENT NEVER STOPS IN SIN CITY.

So, without really meaning to do it so quickly, I have left KCMO, and now reside in Nevada. (Which is pronounced Ne-VAAAAAH-da, not Ne-AHHH-da, and if you say it wrong people laugh at you, and by people I mean Getchell.)
Yeah, so, very suddenly, I live in a new state. I mean, I MEANT to move eventually, but, you know - EVENTUALLY! Not like this! Which is, I got a job offer, and they want me to start next week. Yow.

Bunny is staying with Tony & Kara till I can get back to KC to get her. Hilariously, it looks like I will be making the drive cross-country TWICE - once after I fly back to get Bunny, my car and whatever I can fit in my car, and once to pack everything in a truck and paint my apt white. THAT is how I will be spending New Years, people. In a truck stop outside of Gallup New Mexico, with all my worldly possessions, praying that it doesn’t snow. Me = retard. Yus.

So, I’ll be back in KC briefly on the 14th, then again Xmas day till prolly the 28th. If you are in town, and want to say bye, please lemme know. If you are in Vegas and would like to welcome me to the godless wasteland that is my new home, please do that as well.

In other news? Someone I don’t even know went and got my art tattooed on her arm:

That’s Marina, from one of the first RENT GIRL stories. That totally blows my mind. (As well as flatters me to no end). I mean look at that! It’s HUGE!