Monday, August 7, 2000
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Couple of news items...
I’m giving Aren’t We Real a new look. I mean, I’m giving the Aren’t We Real webiste a new look. I should be able to premier it NEXT MONDAY, with all sorts of new cool stuff and new features. I hope you take the time to stop by and enjoy the eye candy.
The crossover week which I am planning should be done by the end of August. For one full week, every day, I will be creating delightful encounters between your favorite AWR characters with various characters from other comic strips which I enjoy. I will obviously only be doing five of them, so that means I won’t be covering the scope of ALL the webcomics I enjoy, but that will only mean that another crossover week will grace us down the line. Hope you’re excited.
I’m also still pining over the color comic strip. I’m thinking I should save it for a special occasion, like maybe the 100th strip or something. Still pining over this one...
On a personal note, I think I’m going to sue the bastard cyclist who ran me over about two weeks ago. I’m currently looking into legal representation and the expenses it will entail. Already one lawyer I talked to said that this kind of case could have political repercussions and could tense relations between the city and the cyclists association. As it’s probably the case in your own city, the cyclists association is demanding this and that favors so that they can have better conditions and so on and so forth. And like I said previously, they already got their bloody cycles-only lanes downtown and everywhere else, and yet they still ride sidewalks and make more demands. Could you believe that I could be a legal hero? Me either. Kinda scares me too.
Adios!
posted by Case Yorke,
8/7/2000 2:08:29 PM
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Monday, July 31, 2000
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There. As you all have probably noticed by now, I have today's comic up, so you know I'm happy. It was a silly little problem that the scanner had which I was able to fix, so rah for me. Tomorrow's strip is already uploaded too and tomorrow I should get the next storyline up in some kind of backlog.
I have to say that I have been amazed with all the email I have recieved only this week. If anything, my move to Keenspace has attracted much more attention to my strip and it seems that there are quite a few people who like it. I'm touched. So consider this a general and public "thank you" to everyone who wrote in and/or wrote on the discussion board on how much they enjoyed what I was doing. I'll keep the pressure on to try and remain fun so that you all can continue to enjoy the strip.
Smells like football... I believe this year should belong to the Titans. Who's with me?
Back to work!
posted by Case Yorke,
7/31/2000 2:19:19 PM
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Hello there everybody! Bet you’re all wondering what the hell is going on, right? I mean, no comic on Friday, an apparently late one today, no news at all over the weekend... betcha thought I was dead, huh? Unfortunately for you, no dice. However, I will take the time to explain what happened.
I was in a bicycle accident on Friday morning.
No, don’t worry. I wasn’t the one riding the bike. Actually, I was hit by a speeding maniac on my way to work Friday morning. The bastard was doing about 35 mph on the sidewalk when he rammed right into my from behind. Most people could hear him coming, but I didn’t, since, as it is with every morning I go to work, I was listening to the music blaring from my Discman’s headset. I fell hard, twisting my ankle and suffering a concussion, since my head bounced off the pavement. Bastard cyclist only got away with a few scrapes.
You know, for years cyclists in my city have been fighting city hall to try and get their goddamned reserved lanes in downtown. They finally got them last year, amidst the grumbling of regular automotive commuters who find themselves with less space in the lanes. Still, cyclists pollute the sidewalks, preferring not to ride “too close to the cars”. Goddamn. What the fuck kind of reasoning is that? And Chirst, you don’t go barreling down a sidewalk at 30 miles per hour! What kind of idiot does that?
Anyway, they kept me under observation all Friday and released me on Saturday, with my head still foggy and rather tired. So I took the day off. On Sunday, I drew. Like a madman. And I scripted. I have lots of great material just waiting to be loved and adored. Problem? I get to work today and the stupid scanner isn’t working. Can you say “augh”? So I’m stuck here with my comic strips and nowhere to go. I might jump out on my lunch break and hop into a shop where I can get them scanned. That would mean that I’ll have to pay for them, though. What I wouldn’t do for my fans.
So to all of you who sent me some email, I’ll be getting to it as soon as I can. I wanted to get this general message out so that you all know what the deal is and that you’ll come back and check Aren’t We Real despite the real life glitches. Guess I should really start working on that backlog, huh?
Anyway, thanks for your patience and hang in there, folks.
posted by Case Yorke,
7/31/2000 11:40:41 AM
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Wednesday, July 26, 2000
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Ah, finally a little time to give you some site news...
First of all, as you have probably all noticed by now, Aren’t We Real has finally made the full transition over to Keenspace. Let me tell you something, I’ve been on it for two weeks now and, quite honestly, I don’t regret it. The exposure it has given the strip is great, and the sense of community is great. It’s great because I’m finally in contact with other comic strip authors and I don’t feel as alone as I was back out there when I was on Crosswinds. Obviously, the server reliability is up, and the automated features are a godsend. Do you know how great it is not to have to worry about maintaining proper archives?
I think I finally got all the little bugs out of the webpage, got control of the Keenspace codes, and even got around to coding the news/rants section properly from the Blogger site. I have a fully-functional, top-notch website for you to enjoy. Now if I can get around to doing the Cast section of the site, I’ll be as happy as a little girl.
In the meantime, I hope you enjoy Aren’t We Real. I’ve found myself enjoying doing it more than I ever thought I would, so I have plans for it. No, they’re not big plans, they’re just... you know... plans. Obviously, the “Petey Loves Dannee” storyline is one I’m going to maintain for a while, I have some new characters just waiting for the perfect moment to be introduced, and there’s a storyline for Horse which I have written up which should appear on your monitors soon. Just whenever I feel the timing is right. Plus, I’m also getting ready to do a “Tribute Week” where for five days I will pull off some grotesque fan art with some of my favorite (and easy-to-draw) web comic strips, in a last-ditch need for attention. Oh, and I’m also mulling the idea of doing a color Aren’t We Real sometime down the road. I’ll keep you posted.
For now, folks, enough is enough. Have fun and... well... you know...
Tah.
posted by Case Yorke,
7/26/2000 11:03:10 AM
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Tuesday, July 25, 2000
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posted by Case Yorke,
7/25/2000 4:42:36 PM
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As the world turns, folks... look what I got in my email today...
“Dear Casey,
I have to say that I am very flattered for the way you portrayed me on that rant thing you put up on that little site you have. Yes, I found it. Small world, isn’t it?
I really wonder how good writing that up made you feel. I mean, I’m sure it’s not the first time you got shot down by a beautiful woman like me, so I guess you must have done it to try and rebuild that male ego I left bruised and battered after shutting you down in such an unceremonious way. I bet lots of them high-brow internet types wrote you tons of emails going “Yo dude, she be a skank bitch, don’t waste your time wit’ er, yo.” Must be comforting getting that rush of testosterone from your fellow online grunts. It’s really cute too the way you just left everything hanging there, leaving everyone who reads it think that I’m some kind of psycho powderpuff loon for deciding not to sleep with you because of the way you ate your Oreoes.
I don’t know how much Scuzzy told Mitch, but if that’s all Mitch told you, it’s his problem. If you must know, Casey, I didn’t decide that you weren’t worth my time because you dunked your Oreoes in your milk. While I believe that it is a testament to your level of overall maturity, and while I did tell Scuzzy that to poke some fun at your expense, the truth is that you were really bland. We spent most of the day running around, doing rides and stuff, so all of that was cool, and yeah, I’ll admit you’re a good-looking guy and you got me hot, but the minute we sat down and started talking, you just dug your own grave, brother. You just became tedious company and I really didn’t feel like being around you anymore. You’re dull, Casey Yorke. Dull as a stone wall. That’s why you didn’t have the chance to do me. I figured that since you were that dull at conversation you couldn’t be any better in bed. At least I have the satisfaction of saying that you missed out on the best pussy you ever dreamed of.
Christ, do you really think I’d be so stupid as to just dump someone because of the way they eat a cookie? Not only are you dull, but you’re an idiot. Man, you really are unique; not in the good sense.
And your comic strip bites.
Sandy”
Well now, I guess I should write her back, now, shouldn’t I...?
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Dear Sandy,
Thank you very much for obsessing over me as much as to go and find my website and write me an email where you try to quell your unconsumed fantasies of squeezing me between your legs. It’s the only rational explanation I can come up with. If you have such adverse feelings towards me, why come here in the first place?
Bruised ego? Don’t think so. It made for a great story. All you did was ruin the magic for everyone. So now everyone thinks you’re a bitch. Ha-ha. It’s your loss.
For the record, I still think you’re a wonderful girl with great spunk and very intelligent despite it all. I bought the Oreo thing because this world is full of crazy stuff and nothing surprises me really anymore. I tend to believe the weirdest shit out there because reality is stranger than fiction.
I don’t see where you get off going on about me like that, but all I know is that you could have opened your mouth and said something and maybe there wouldn’t be as much bitterness as there is now, and maybe I wouldn’t have the impression I completely lost that day. And by that I don’t mean that I should have had you in the sack as a payoff. All I’m saying is that I’m disappointed that I can’t really call you a friend.
It’s really too bad.
Case
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Hm... think I should email it to her?
Nah, she’ll be back.
posted by Case Yorke,
7/25/2000 4:39:09 PM
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Friday, July 14, 2000
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Set your bookmarks to arentwereal.keenspace.com like now. The new site is up as a beta right now, and all the comic strips are there. Something happened to the archives here on Crosswinds and I'm not up to fixing them now that everything is in running order on Keenspace.
posted by Case Yorke,
7/14/2000 4:51:16 PM
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So my friend Mitch hooks me up on this date, right? He knows this friend of his who knows a girl who just moved into town. Yeah, a blind fucking date. Ech, how corny can this story get before even getting started?
Anyhow, so this girl, let's call her "Sandy" because I don't feel like coming up with a false name for her, apparently just moved in from this really far-off place, doesn't know a soul, and is starved to meet some new people. Therefore Mitch, knowing that I am starved to meet just about any girl I can, decides that-one-plus-one-equals-fun and sets up a date for me, without my prior consent, with this Sandy chick. No pun intended.
Now you know when you watch these sitcoms on television and you see this exact same situation happening to the main character, and he's hopping mad at his well-intentioned buddy for setting him up on a date without asking him first, and the main character spends the first ten minutes of the show wondering just how ugly the girl is, while she actually ends up being something close to a Victoria's Secret model? And you know how tired and cliché, boring and predictable those storylines have become?
Well brother, I can tell you one thing: when it happens to you in real life, there ain't NOTHING bad about it.
Okay, so Sandy wasn't exactly Victoria's Secret material. She was more along the lines of an Airwalk commercial: shoulder-length red curly hair tied up into a pair of ponytails, big brown eyes, freckles, skiing goggles atop her head, white loose-form-fitting navel-cut (rrowl) white T-shirt with black trim with the word "BRIGHTON" written across her savory chest, hip-hugging silvery pants, and black elevator sandals. Her face was round and bright, cute as a button, pretty, not overbearingly intimidating in her looks, but good looking enough to get the blood pumping. In summary, she wasn't beautiful in any classic sense... just a real naïve attractiveness about her. This was almost surreal. All Mitch told me was that she'd have red hair up in tails. Bastard was toying with me.
"Hi," she said as I moved over to the bench where she sat. "You must be Casey."
"Actually, it's just plain old Case," I answered, smiling widely, making a note to tell her later how much I hate being called "Casey". "On my way over I was thinking about trying to do a witty and make usage of your name which is, in fact, an adjective, but I figured you probably have heard them all before."
"You're right," she giggled. "You score."
Mmmmmmmmmm... score...
Since this was late morning, I had planned out a very simple day which consisted of going to the amusement park (which she thankfully hadn't got around to going yet), grabbing a bite to eat together for dinner, then see if we were up to spending the evening in each other's company. Somewhat fly by the seat of your pants, but that's my style.
The amusement park was a charm. We went in (I paid her admission, so I had better not hear any more comments about my stinginess), she bought me cotton candy and a 3-dollar soda (what a fucking rip-off), we did the rides, and I found she had this really fun energy going for her. I could really connect to it. And she seemed to lack all sense of public decency. We were sitting at a fountain just shitting around, taking some playful jabs at each other, when I pushed her into the water. She obviously got her revenge by pulling me in as well. I avoided the big of the wet, but she got thoroughly soaked. I laughed so hard when she got out of the water, looking like a little puppy dog in the from the rain. But even I took a moment to double-take when she pulled off her T-shirt right there, in the middle of everyone's immediate eyesight, and wrenched it to get the big wet out of it.
"I'm soaked," she playfully growled, standing there in her bra, her flesh glistening with the water. "Fuck you," she adds, giving me a crooked smile.
Anytime, baby; I have newfound respect for you. That's probably what I thought at that precise moment.
Anyway, the rest of the day goes well, but eventually we break from the theme park and head over to a little diner-spot for some dinner. She has chicken fingers with a salad. I have a double cheeseburger with a side of onion rings. At this stage, stuff is clicking here. Conversation, looks, smiles, fun... there's definitely some very VERY fun tension here. And we're both building on it. Playing with it. Taunting each other with it. Playing all around it without making actual mention of it. It's a game. It's an energy. It's ours to do what we want with it.
Dessert: we both order sundaes. I order a glass of milk with it because since I know the diner fairly well, I know they serve Oreos with the sundae, and, I mean, who the hell eats Oreos without a glass of milk, right? So I go about my thing, eating a bit of the sundae, losing myself in her presence, opening up both halves of my Oreos and dunking them into my milk... while she just seductively licks up the ice cream from her serving. I want her SO bad.
Ring, ring, the scourge of the 21st century, the cellphone, MY cellphone to be precise, bellows and I answer it, only to hear Mitch's voice on the other end. After taking the time to check up on me, he informs me that a group of people are going out to a club that evening. I relay the information to Sandy who seems game to the idea, as I silently curse Mitch from preventing me from taking her home and romp around like we're supposed to.
So we chow down, and head over to Sandy's so she can freshen up. I feel like there might be something more to this, but, surpassingly, there isn't. No accidental nudity, no chances of me walking in on her changing, nothing. And while she actually seems just as pleasant as she was, she seems a little less playful. I blame it on fatigue.
I'll skip the details of the club, which are really a blur anyway. All I remember was Sandy being friendly with everyone, not paying any special attention to me, Mitch trying to hit on some girl at the bar, and telling myself just how fast this Ecstasy shit kicks in.
So I head home, alone, wake up the next day around 11:30 AM, with Sandy being the first thing on my mind. I go about my day normally, thankful to not be hungover (thank God for narcotics), shower, dress, eat, Smackdown on the Playstation, when Mitch calls. He asks how my day with Sandy went. I basically tell him what I just wrote here. He says he got off the phone with his friend who is friends with Sandy. The friend said that Sandy told him that she really had fun with me and that she really thinks I'm a nice guy, but that she could never be with a guy who eats his Oreos like a 10 year-old boy.
Mitch has this thing about fucking with my mind. I think it makes him ejaculate freely every time he does it. I really do. Because he does it often. Every chance he gets. What better opportunity than now, right? So I laugh. "Yeah right, Mitch."
"I'm serious dude," he says. "That's what her friend said."
I distinctly remember sitting there in dumbfounded silence, watching Big Show chokeslam me (as Mankind) for the pin on the TV screen as he said those words. Anything symbolic irony there? Who gives a fuck. One of the hottest and most interesting girls I ever got to date turns out to be psycho. She decided that I didn't rank up there in her choices because of the way I ate my Oreos? Christ, I'm actually kind of happy she never saw me eat a Tootsie Pop. No telling what kind of opinion she could have of me then.
However, she did remind me of one consequential element of my persona, one which I brandished triumphantly like a trophy for years as a beacon of my own salvageable needs and desires, one which I had tucked away for the time I was with her, but which now resurfaced with force and set itself up in my brain with aplomb. And I shared that element with Mitch to conclude the whole messy affair with as much rationality as I could muster up:
"I hate rave bunnies."
posted by Case Yorke,
7/14/2000 12:23:07 AM
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Thursday, July 13, 2000
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And now time for an update on your favorite bleeding heart no-name comic strip hack...
Late Tuesday afternoon, I was viciously assaulted by a 24-hour flu bug which kept me completely out of commission yesterday, but which thankfully left promptly, allowing me to go on with my day today as planned. Obviously, the downside was that it kept me away from work, thus away from the scanner and the files I had readied for the Wednesday upload.
As you may or may not have noticed, Wednesday’s strip is up and ready for your love and adulation. I will get to work on today’s strip over my lunch break and hopefully have it up sometime this afternoon.
And remember, we are T-minus 3 days to the brand new start of Aren’t We Real on http://arentwereal.keenspot.com, so make sure you save a seat for this unforgettable and all-important gala event!
I’ll try to be back later, there’s lots to talk about.
posted by Case Yorke,
7/13/2000 11:49:02 AM
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Monday, July 10, 2000
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Already in the short, short history of this wonderful waste of space, Aren’t We Real will be moving to a new server. I’m going to have the pleasure of joining up with a substantial chunk of the online comic strip community at Keenspace. I’m looking forward to having my stuff up on the Keenspace world, essentially because of all the promotion advantages and archive automation services they offer. It’s always good to be a part of a group where people can reference to you easily. Nothing against Crosswinds, really, because they are a good service, but the server gets jammed too often for my personal tastes. Besides, the weblog may actually stay on when I make the transfer to Keenspot because I’m not quite sure at how reliable their FTP service is.
Therefore, starting next Monday, Aren’t We Real will be found at http://arentwereal.keenspot.com and will be still chock full of all the usual google-doo-ness and fenroop-bnutter-cnu you’ve got used to blindly tolerate.
I hope you are all enjoying your summer. I can’t remember the last time I’ve enjoyed a summer. I have worked in the hotel business for the past eight years, and lord knows that in the tourist business, especially in a tourist town like the one I live in, summer is not the time to take a vacation. This is the time of year where the moolah rolls in and I want/have to be around to take advantage of it.
So year after year, for me, it has been tourist on top of tourist on top of tourist on top of tourist, asking me where the sites are, what the best restaurants are, complaining where there’s a problem with their room, getting pissed at me when they get a ticket for parking at meters and not feeding them.
If there’s one thing that I have noticed is that people seem to automatically stop thinking the instant they go on a trip. All sense of independence halts. Any capacity for self-reliance is nullified. Suddenly, men and women alike become total idiots and have difficulty performing and understanding the simplest of tasks. And there isn’t really a type of person in particular, they are doctors, salespeople, florists, artists, administrators... they all become the same type of mush-brained twits.
Example: A client comes up to the counter, all smiles.
“Could you tell me how to get to the Caroussel restaurant?” he asks.
“It’s very simple sir, it’s just on the next street corner down to the right,” I pleasantly answer.
“I’m sorry, you said it was...” he says, leaving his question hanging so I could fill in the blank.
“Yes,” I start again. “You step out of the hotel and go down the street to the right and you will see the Caroussel just on the street corner.”
He gives me a puzzled look.
“Could you show me on a map?”
I give him a small grin and very, very, VERY subtly shake my head. I take a little map, pick up a highlight pen and have it squeak down the map for about a quarter of an inch.
“It’s right there,” I state, smiling, trying not to let my annoyance shine through.
“Okay,” he says, picking up the map and squinting at it. “Thank you very much.” And he leaves.
Trust me, it happens more than you would imagine.
You should see them when they ask me how to leave town.
posted by Case Yorke,
7/10/2000 3:28:03 PM
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