Wednesday, June 17, 2009

FTPs and Scanned HBs

Guys, can I tell you how pooped I am? I can? Excellent.

I'm pooped.*

It's the computer. It's a marginal excuse, I know. But can I just say "FTP" is now a permanent fixture in my vocabulary? I fought with the Great-Kahuna-Internet and I won. The only problem now is letting go of my little pet project and giving someone else the reins.

I wish all of my sketchbooks would look like this. Not dark, shiny and kind of hard to tell what it is, but more what it looks like in real life. Like I care. Because I do. It's just sometimes hard to tell. I'm telling you. I need a scanner.

*I don't actually like the word, "pooped" because it brings up images in my mind I would rather leave un-thought. Something like leaving bags of flaming fecal matter on doorsteps on Halloween only instead of laying there inconspicuously they're flying through the air toward my head. I'm going to venture a guess and say this was too much information.

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