Category Archives: Hchom

Look, my sister gave me a horn spoon. We found it in a store called Old Faithful, where we embarrassed ourselves by making simultaneous ear-splitting squeals upon its discovery. It’s everything I hoped and dreamed it would be, my spoon.

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I know I’ve (more than) exhausted my quota for the word “birthday” on this site, and now that half a month has passed I have no right to be still talking about it. I mean, I think I’ve been quite restrained, considering everything, but enough is enough. On Saturday, though, my friends Sachi and Kimi made me a birthday dinner, and look, it was totally out of my hands, ok? It was like a giant supercomputer from the future took my original birthday feast, processed all the information, did some calculations using advanced alien technology, and came up with a new, superior birthday feast. With TWO DESSERTS. Nobody knows my tastes better than these people. If I had to choose my last meal on earth, I would want them to cook it for me, and I would die a happy woman.

Plus, look, they gave me a little wooden box of shinies. And oh, man, also a box of Finnska licorice  – I forgot to draw that. Brandon and I fought bitterly over the leftovers. Bitterly! Screaming and clawing! Well, not him so much. But he let me buy a wooden recorder, just so he could have the last piece of pie.

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These N.D.C. leather shoes (hand-made in Belgium-of-the-16-grain-bread) were my birthday present to myself.

This June, I decided that my birthday was going to be all about facing my fears, and making tentative forays into solid girl territory. That’s like the equivalent of being afraid of heights, and booking yourself a hot air balloon ride as a gift. Terrifying. Not OK.
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Yesterday was my birthday. I spent most of the day collecting components for this, the finest feast ever. Sadly I was cameraless, but this is fairly accurate. I want to do it all over again every day forever.

It was a propitious day for shinies, too. I’ll get around to those, and other presents, when I find my camera.

I’m always on the verge of wearing my onesie outside, but the problem is the bumflap. Or the bumslit, rather, which is what most onesies available nowadays have instead of a proper square flap. My onesies, let me assure you, would have perfect bumflaps (though the space one would have to be zippered, or something, to make it more spaceish).

The bra and underwear might seem a little weird to include, but they factor highly because I have a pissing devil of a time finding bras in my size. At least, ones that don’t look like they were made for Aunt Gertrude in her twilight years. Not that I want anything particularly saucy, mind you. It’s just that my tits don’t require a regiment of doily-plastered inch-and-half thick straps to hold them up. You’d think the reasonable, plain varieties would carry the largest range of sizes, wouldn’t you? You’d think so.
On the other hand, when it comes to underwear, I just want good-quality unfancy cotton, with no cheeky boyshortery, and no named waistbands. You might not reckon, but this also requires some serious exhaustive hunting for never-quite-perfect results.

I tried to make this post appeal to ass men and tit men alike. How nice am I?

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I can’t believe how many dresses and skirtish things made their way into this imaginary collection, given that I don’t own a single item of either. I suppose this goes to show that I would do, under ideal circumstances. Indeed, I think the onesie dress is what I want more than anything else amongst all of this stuff. Well, at least par with the thief jacket and space onesie.

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The pockety jacket, coat and skirt would be like the thesis of the collection. A shiny in every pocket! Sometimes a stone, sometimes a feather, sometimes a little ball of waxed string, sometimes a glossy chestnut. Hell, seeing as these don’t exist and never will, I can be as generous as I want. So let’s say that each piece just comes with a hidden treasure, hoard-ready.

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I’ve wanted to do this for a while. You know, when I was a kid I would make whole lines of clothing for Yoshi? Female Yoshi, that is. Or “Yoshina” as I’d ingeniously named her. For anybody who’s confused by that, I mean the green dinosaur in Super Mario Brothers. Even then I was mixing worlds! How volatile! How precocious! Dude, I don’t even want to tell you how inane Yoshi looked in a pair of pants.

And look, there’s still no stopping me.

I’ll put up “runway” shots over the rest of the week. I know that Autumn/Winter 2010 is actually last autumn, but I wanted room to do it all over again in a few months time, see.

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At the cabin with my sister, for (in both our cases) a brief vacation. Much extravagant feasting. Injudicious quantities of pastry.

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My birthday is in under two weeks, so I’m more than usually glutted with my various material wants. Most of  them are totally unreasonable (what else is new). Here’s a small selection.

1.
TES V:
My birthday happens to be on the first day of the big, E3 videogame convention. So naturally, I’m hoping they announce the next Elder Scrolls game, as a present just for me. Come on, Bethesda! Happy Birthday Marian!

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2.
Of course, that means I’ll need a new laptop. Which I do in any case, because this one has started to overheat and crash with increasing frequency. It’s only a matter of time before it goes black in the middle of some terrifying late-into-the-night deadline, sending me spiralling into a mortal panic attack.

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3.
I think I must be going a little whoopsy in my old age, because I have an enormous fixation with this skirt. Come on, dude, what’s going on with that? I don’t wear skirts. Those are for girls, who have cooties, and are, like, totally gross. But what can you do, I’ve checked on this every day for the past three months, to make sure my size is still there. I don’t know why, it’s not like I can afford it under any circumstances. But if it sells, man, I will be seriously depressed.

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4.
While I’m asking for impossible things, why not my own cabin? That would be nice. Chop chop, world!

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5.
If I have a cabin, I suppose I’ll need a car. I miss having a car (poor Volpone. Frever sleep). Thinking about it, I don’t know a single comic artist who owns one… not full-time comic artists, at any rate. Hell, most of them can’t even drive, which shows, I guess, an admirable sense of resignation to their likely fate.

6.
And now, since we’re getting really out-of-the-park (cars, yeesh), I’d like to have a shiny with a gift-granting creature trapped in it. I have a preoccupation with the “three wishes” concept. It must be a holdover from my childhood. I think about what I’d do, if faced with three wishes, on an almost daily basis. And actually, even after decades of angsting over it, I still can’t think of an ideal way of handling it. That must be the fascination.

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Now this jacket is seriously impossible, as far as acquisition goes. It’s made by Luxirare, and you can see it here. I find Luxirare to be fascinating. The stuff she makes (food and clothing) is almost always totally perpendicular to my own tastes, which is no impediment to my liking it. Sometimes I like it a lot, and sometimes I don’t. Often I have a strong negative reaction to it, and that’s interesting too.
Anyway, this jacket certainly doesn’t match my usual aesthetic (androgynous and plain in the extreme), but I think it’s very pleasant and wearable, even in its tits-out weirdness. Especially in its tits-out weirdness. Plus, you know. I draw a lot of topless women, so maybe I should put my money where my, uh, tits are.

Back in the city of muffins and endless deadlines.

I keep meaning to do a full inventory of my shiny things, but so far I’ve been too intimidated by the size of the task. Still, I like to gloat about them, so here are a a couple pictures of  some of my favourite ones.

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All I want in life is a larder full of meats and breads and pies, and a hoard full of shiny treasure. I’m at the cabin right now, and this would perhaps be the goblin equivalent.

I mentioned Baguette & Co. yesterday. Here is one of their almond croissants (rather mangled from the long walk home). I’ve never been to France (except to be driven through it briefly on the way to England) so I know that as far as the croissant experience goes, this must be a false ceiling. It is a really, really high false ceiling, though. With antique mouldings and elaborate gilding and frescoes of plump angel babies.

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