Clearly I didn't earn my paycheck today. Someone in the office mentioned Reese Witherspoon and her chin so I thought that might be fun to draw. As it turned out, the fun was much less than expected. There was no point going any further... as Jim Franzen used to say: I'm polishing a turd.

Just goofin' around... who better to goof with than Kim Jong-il.

Damn! I just had a sneezing fit -- what the heck is that about? I hate when some little devilmite finds its way up my shnozz and there's nothing I can do but sneeze. And after sneezing a million times, it's still there! Then the dizzyness and hot flashes come... it's like getting kicked in the head but instead of pain, my unsecured brain debris is now floating around looking for a new place to rest which is completely upsetting to the synapses, neurons, meninges and rhododendrons. It's woozy chaos.

My daughter tells me what to do; my wife tells me what to do; my boss tells me what to do; everyone I talk to already thinks they know what I'm talking about but the truth is they know less about more than I do. My ability to understand whatever is happening around me is severely compromised because I'm not smart and I'm tired and my brain is soft (or is it hardening? – whichever leads to memory loss and dullness is what I have). In any event, I can hardly breathe without thinking I'm doomed... don't worry: this is not a cry for help. But each day passes by and it seems like another opportunity to do something great has been wasted.

Let's see, what did I do today? After waking up at 6:30, I made a bagel with cream cheese for Zooey and started coffee. Most people probably flip a switch on a machine or buy their java from a coffee hut... not us. We have an elaborate way to brew our junk which results in something that's definitely not worth the effort. Why? Because we're broke and buy whatever shit is cheapest at the crappy supermarket. Anyhow, after all that, I walked outside to get our newspapers. We get the LA Times and the NY Times. The former is horrible but necessary because you need a local paper. The only part of the the NY Times I hate is Sunday's Style section because it reminds me of everything that's wrong with contemporary culture. Anyway, while retrieving the papers, I noticed the wife's front passenger tire is low. Since she drives the freeway with both kids to Zooey's school, there's no way I can ignore it: I gotta pump it up. It's still early so I'm thinking I can do it without disrupting the morning's routine too much. Wrong. Zooey wakes up and freaks. After 412 explanations of how I'll be back in two seconds, she agrees to let me leave.

Later at work, my boss repeats the word "rich" a b'zillion times to a vendor he selected to develop artwork for Dragonball – a live-action movie based on the animated series. Oh boy. Then he tells them he would maybe-perhaps-possibly like to see stuff in 10 days because our super-big boss needs to tap dance for the show's originators in Japan. They didn't blink but, man, you could tell they weren't happy. I tried to spin some sugar on it all but realized I sounded only slightly less phony than the cheese... I lowered my head and doodled.