6.23.03 Whew! What a horrendously busy weekend. Despite being sick I had to attend a wedding and a comic convention. Both had their surprising ups and downs. At the wedding I managed to convince my dad that Amaretto Sours were good, reconnect with cousins I'd not seen in over a decade, spill food on my dress three times yet not get a stain, and make my mom happy that I'd simply showed up. Unfortunately I did not manage to avoid being dragged out onto the dance floor when the song "Lady in Red" started up, punishing me for being the only apparent lady in red in attendance. Immediately after that happened I realized I have no idea how to dance. Luckily I avoided the Electric Slide, the Macarena, the Hokey Pokey, the Locomotion and the Conga Line in one fowl swoop. Thus ended the wedding. The trip to MoCCA in New York did not go as smoothly. Lauren, despite also attending the wedding with me the previous day, foolishly agreed to accompany me to New York as well. She soon realized her mistake. It took us a mere three and half hours to make the trip up, and with some tricky maneuvering and skillful navigating here and there, we'd landed in The Big Apple. Next I left my car keys with a very sketchy man in a parking garage, strongly reminding me of Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Luckily my car is by no means a hot/sporty one. We gleefully skipped into MoCCA, where for the next couple of hours I dragged Lauren to table after table, circling multiple times before randomly stopping to purchase this or try to talk to that person. Among the people I bravely approached were the lovely Friends of Lulu team (who instantly stumped me when they asked what comics I read), Tim Fish (very happy), Rob Ullman (somehow managed to recognize my name), Todd Webb (sporting a beret), Matt Madden (very sweet and I had no money left to buy his book--ugh), and Oni Press (provided me with half the comics I'd been scoping online). All-in-all a very good time, leaving me penniless yet wishing I lived in New York. After that Lauren and I wandered aimlessly around some side streets, stopping to gawk at all the uber-cool merchandise you only find in New York. After stopping at two Tower Records that completely baffled us, we returned to the parking garage. The man had the gall to charge me for three hours when we really took two and a half, but I was too relieved my car was still there to care. We bravely battled traffic back the way we'd come without a map and somehow made it out alive. Unfortunately, shortly after that we hit pocket after pocket of traffic on our way back, stretching our three and a half hour ride to five hours. We paid the same fortune in tolls that we'd paid the way up. And for some incredibly stupid reason, New Jersey thought it necessary to make all gas stations full service. Which involved waiting in a huge line for twenty minutes until the overworked employees could get around to pumping gas, something I pride myself at being able to do fine on my own. The three bright spots of our trip home were as follows: 1) The pizza we had for dinner. 2) The extremely jovial toll booth girl. 3) The car with a Massachusetts tag that was THE ONLY CAR THE WHOLE TRIP TO WAVE TO ME WHEN I LET HIM IN. I saw the worst drivers of the world yesterday. Don't even get me started on how important waving is. Okay, I'm done ranting. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix has arrived. I'm on page 95 and it's already terribly exciting. Updates might be a little slow this week. Sorry, I love you all, go out and read!!

6.18.03 By the way, there's a really cool, surprisingly insightful and in-depth journal entry on what I said last time about my psychotic obsession here. Dylan Meconis, an insanely witty comics gal, typed it up for comics and non-comics enthusiasts alike. Go forth and learn! Feel our comicky pain! . . . By the way, once I get less slack-assy and put up a links page, Dylan's comic will be listed along with the other gems I read daily. . . . In other news, I am finally, after at least a year of being disease-free, sick. I'm convinced it's cause I ran out of Fish Oil weeks ago. That stuff can make you immortal, I swear. Without it, we're all screwed. So my ramblings might get a little more out of whack and the comic updates slower. Plus I need to produce something of interest to hand out at MoCCA. Ugh.

6.17.03 I've included my site to the list of Top Web Comics, so if you feel so inclined to give me a boost in readership, kindly go to my main page and click the link at the bottom to vote for me. It would be mucho appreciated, but honestly all I really want is just readers. Awww. . . . and Fruit Snacks.

6.16.03 It's eleven o'clock, I have a huge crick in my neck, an aching wrist, and a sore throat. Yet I felt it absolutely necessary to sit here and update even just a bit of comic. Is that love, or more like psychotic obsession? . . . In other news, Lauren and I and hopefully Dan are hightailing it to MoCCA in New York this Sunday. I hope to spy on my favorite comics creators and wander around aimlessly handing out postcards. Just like a dream come true.

6.12.03 I am dutifully carrying on with the Red Lipstick Mission. When I was at the gym today a girl came up to me in the locker room and said, "Wow! What great lipstick! Did it really last through your whole workout?" Why yes it did. "I don't mean to sound like some dumb woman in a commercial or anything, but what kind of lipstick is that?" So I told her, and she remained surprised. What poor, depraved, lipstick-free existence was this girl living? To think someone could be surprised by both a nice, red color and a consistency that didn't melt away at the drop of a hat. I like to think that I changed that girl's life today. She will now wear lipstick a lot more often. One by one I will convert all the women of the world! Make-up trends will return to the 1940's! Like the name of my favorite lipstick color, soon there will be a time of Crimson Joy!

6.11.03 I sat down at breakfast this morning and was shocked to see an 8x10 glossy picture of John Travolta's huge face awaiting me. He had a little word bubble attached that said, "Hi Monica! My name is John. John Travolta. How ya doin'?" . . . . This could only be the work of Kerry. (Lemme use an example to explain how great my roommate Kerry is: When my other roommate Lauren scratched her cornea and had to wear a huge ball of gauze on her eye, rather than call her Cyclops like I did, Kerry left her a huge bouquet of flowers and this note. I think that says it all right there) Besides the head shot, Kerry also produced another weird piece of memorabilia from John for working on his latest film. A silver pen inscribed with the words, "Ladder 49. Thanks, J.T." This pen is nothing compared to the one I recently acquired. When I had arrived at my parentals' house last weekend to house-sit, I found a curious box with my name on it. Inside was a maroon pen with "Monica Gallagher. No. 1 Daughter" inscribed on it. This means from now on I'm excused from all familial obligations, Father's Day, Mother's Day, Anniversaries, Birthdays, what have you, cause I now have proof that I'm the Number One Daughter in the world. That's right, Number One. Any of you who dare question me will immediately be confronted with proof. Written on a pen.

6.8.03 After two weeks away, I have finally returned to my apartment. Enough of this vacationing/house-sitting nonsense. My belongings are finally unpacked, Marguerite (my plant) has been watered, my flat tire is fixed, I spoke to my roommate Kerry, and the upstairs neighbors are noisy as hell. Things are back to normal. I added a new very mini-comic that I did recently. I'm gonna start re-vamping stuff soon so keep a look out for cool new organizational buttons and thingies. And don't get freaked out if Gods & Undergrads spontaneously changes from 7 pages to 31. Oh and please Bend It Like Beckham.

6.7.03 Dan and I made a valiant attempt to go to a Nina Simone tribute concert that was happening in Baltimore. It's sad that I'm proud of myself as long as I at least attempt to do things. Anyhoo, we pulled up to the place, certain we were in for hip, well-dressed people in their twenties in a smoky, dim atmosphere, all ready to sip martinis and get down to people covering Nina. Instead we noticed a different trend in the people flocking to the entrance -- they were all at least 60 years old, dressed to the nines, clutching pocketbooks. Dan and I evaluated the situation and made the mature decision. We high-tailed it back to the car and sped off to a bar instead. We listened to Nina on the way back. Maybe someday my Kahlua commercial-inspired dream will come true.

6.4.03 . . . And Beach Week 2003 has come to an end. Despite the fact that it was very un-beach weathery out, me and the rest of the Fabulous Foursome had a good time indeed. Please indulge me while I re-live the highlights. Pine & Brine, the lovely condo where we stayed, located very near a fire station that would have extremely loud drills early in the morning. Lingo's Market, where a tall, stern woman named Jessica would treat us like royalty when we came in to buy breakfast pastries. A dolphin sculpture decked out like Marilyn Monroe. Washing Lauren's contacts down the drain at three in the morning, forcing her back into Middle School glasses till she could get replacements. Finding a new Tom Robbins book. Raoul, my grumpy new bean-bag friend (see image below). Ordering an Appletini and immediately sloshing it onto several hot, gay men. Getting my ass grabbed by someone mistaking me for a guy. Watching dolphins show off in the ice-cold ocean. Going to the lifeguard hangout. Seeing X2 for the third time. Donnie Darko. Walking on the boardwalk drunk at 3 a.m. by myself. Getting frustrated and angry after two turns at Cranium. The "Pat-Pat-Slide" technique. My complexion not getting the memo that I'm 23 and should no longer be breaking out. "I'VE GOT A VENTI MOCHA FRAPP.....uccino." Having a nice eggy breakfast disturbed by an angry cleaning lady kicking us out of the condo. Getting a flat tire immediately after squeezing everything into the car. And last but not least, despite having spent a week in close contact with the rest of the Fabulous Foursome, immediately wanting to see them the next day. Awww.