16 August 2011

I had a latte today.

For readers not familiar with lattes*, they (the lattes, not the readers, although I don’t mean to make assumptions) are whipped, heated cow pus, caramel, two heavily beaten coffee beans and two scoops of sour cream. Yum.

I drank the beverage and felt like I had eaten fifteen bags of jellybeans inside twenty doughnuts. (I think the jellybeans were in the doughnuts. I was not.)

I sank into bloated depression.

Then the two coffee beans kicked in and I felt good.

So GF and I walked home. On Metro, nothing exciting occurred as far as I could tell. GF said one ginger-domed dude was being a grade-A hole to another passenger who may have been:

A. His sister

B. His friend

C. His cousin

D. His girlfriend

E. His mother

F. His holographic projection of insecurity

G. Fab Morvan (yes, that Fab Morvan)

Will the mystery ever be solved?

Earlier this week, the post held my final stack of comic books from Night Flight Comics. DC Comics is restarting their comics by issuing 52 #1 titles (the titles are literally numbered “one”). I don’t agree with the choice. I think some of the ideas look great, but restarting some of the series annoys me as a longtime reader (first time caller).

I just reread what I wrote and am too bored by it to continue my thoughts.

Stay tuned for tomorrow’s brand new Cone Alone.

*For my Southern audience