A hat tip to Allie Brosh. UPDATED.

Hyperbole and a Half happens to be one of my favorite blogs ever.  It (along with The Oatmeal, XKCD, Natalie Dee and a few other illustrated blogs) is one of my biggest inspirations when it comes to my own posts and illustrations.  I feel it's important to give credit where credit is due. A lot of people have noticed that I have a similar writing style and illustration style to a few other bloggers.  I generally take this as a huuuuge compliment, because that means that someone, somewhere thinks that I have a vestige of talent.  And that makes me feel all accomplished inside.

One of my favorite drawings ever done by Allie Brosh is this one:

This is totes too awesome for words.  

Why?  Because that was ME as a child.  And it kind of still is, let's be honest.  the expression, the dress, THE DINOSAUR TOY.  When I first saw this picture I died of laughter.  And so, as my first hat tip illustration (probably in a series of them to several AWESOME bloggers and illustrators) I give you my Hyperbole and a half-ed drawing of myself:

I imagine that this would be me if I were drawn by Allie Brosh.  Probably.  The pink unicorn probably would have been a whole lot better if she'd done it.  But the purple one isn't too bad, eh?  This drawing was featured in my last article on Sparknotes.com. It was done on paint.net, and it took me forever plus infinity to adequately capture the style, so I'll be going back to bean people for now.  ANYWAY, if you haven't read Hyperbole and a Half, you SERIOUSLY have to.  It will change your life.  Most likely.

Allie Brosh, I salute you.

Updated:
First of all, this post was SUPPOSED to go up at the same time as the SL article, but Blogger was experiencing technical difficulties and was down for maintenance.  So I only just now get to respond to the hatred!  YAAAAY!

So apparently I'm a total idiot and I forgot to add in my article that the above drawing is homage to Allie Brosh.  I hadn't really thoroughly read the article once it was posted and just did now as I was linking to it for this post.  LOOKS LIKE I HAVE SOME SERIOUS HATRED GOING ON.  Which is justified, since CLEARLY that was a Hyperbole and a Half inspired drawing that I created.  Here's some clarification for anyone who is angry about my own illustration styles versus any other blogger:

 The above illustration uses a style I call "bean people" in my head, because they look like beans and they're incredibly easy to draw.  This is my general go to style.  I like the dots for eyes and the coloring outside of the lines because I think it's cute.  Occasionally I'll do something with their eyes if I want to give them a stronger expression.  Other examples of illustration styles I sometimes use include:

These are just a few examples.  As you can see, I don't have a really set style of illustration.  All of them are influenced by other people, but that's kind of a given.  Everyone is influenced, and I definitely have wayyy more than just one muse.  When I'm drawing, I'm not thinking about Allie Brosh's drawings or anyone else's.  The unicorn toy drawing WAS actually mean as a salute to Allie, but CLEARLY that didn't turn out too well.  So we'll see if hat tip drawings continue.

THE POINT OF THIS IS TO EXPLAIN THAT I'M NOT A CHEATING COPY CAT.  Credit where credit is due.

KTHX.

I'm going to try to make this way more exciting than it actually is.

Next week (probably) I will start blogging THE HOST.  BY STEPHENIE MEYER.  AREYOUASECSTATICASIAM?!?!  Probably not.  Now a few things:

1. I chose to blog The Host for several reasons.  First, it got the most votes on the poll I put up a while back.  Second, there's a lot of discussion material there.  Third, there is no sequel so if I find that I absolutely hate blogging books, I don't have to actually blog a book ever again.

2.  I have read this book before.  But it was back when I was in the 14-15 age range and still thought Edward was the hottest thing to happen to the world.  So the new perspective should be...enlightening.

3.  I'm not going to rip it apart just because Stephenie Meyer wrote it.  I know that a lot of you guys LOVE to see the Twilight series trashed, and to some extent so do I, but if I recall correctly I actually liked The Host better than the vampire book stuff.  Then again, that's not saying much, because I wore a lot of Abercrombie when I was reading both books and I think the fumes messed with my brain.  That would account for all of the blue eyeshadow that I used to wear.  ANYWAY the point is that I'll give this book a chance.

4. If this is a terrible idea, TOO BAD SUCKAS!  Hahahahahahaha.  I'm hilarious!  Right?  Right, guys?

5. If you'd like to read along, I'll probably do a chapter a week, unless I feel like doing more, but I'll let you guys know if I do an extra via TWITTER or FACEBOOK.  Quick reminder, if you're about to go add me on Facebook, make sure to add the Megan Prietzel with the funny cartoon as a profile picture.  THANKS.

6. Is my favorite number.

7. I won't be making predictions, since I already know what's going to happen.  Vaguely.  Instead, I'll follow in the footsteps of the illustrious Dan Bergstein and do some deleted scenes.  Probably.  Unless I decide to do something else.  Which I most likely wont.  If you have any ideas or suggestions, leave 'em in the comments or shoot me an email at megan.squared@hotmail.com. 

Apparently I am a crazy person.

Those of you who follow me on Twitter know that I'm kind of an idiot who says things like, "I'm not saying you're a zombie.  I'm implying it.  There's a difference." and "I ate like twenty gummy bear vitamins.  Am I going to die?"  and "I had a dream that I was mauled by a baby-hating bear last night. My dream reaction: I have to tweet this if I don't die."  I am clearly not meant for Twitter but since no one has kicked me off yet I assume I'm still in the clear.  Anyway, I found this website that I guess analyzes your old tweets and then tells you what your next tweets will be.  Probably.  It is startlingly accurate, so far:


"Help! He's repressing me! Did you blink too insane even for attack and loathing for survival are?"

"Funny thing about the challenge. Never look up a cerebrospinal fluid leak. Thing I am not: microwave safe."

"Found two more live-able."

"I'm pretty sure I want this job?"

"Actually thus far I am not a flavor of detergent instead of curls."

"Dumb tacks. Officially have a unicorn. Yes! This shopping cart's wheels won't turn right. Me."

"All I ate like a guy in marshmallow. You didn't deserve that."

"The Fellowship of ice cream called Sparkle. I karate chopped that paper."

"Officially have a passion for you to sit down."

"Thing I dropped last night. Oh. Pretend that I want to college, kids."

"I'm still awake. Lolz, I'm implying it. Silence. Don't go to your lap murderer? "

"Sleep placebo: I'll just float around behind you, weeping until you can write or draw."

 "Am now throwing a purple horse named Sweetbottom to share stories about"

"Just stole a guy in the tree. I assure you, I ate like to get somewhat interesting."

And my personal favorites:

"....what is a bunch of curls. It'll fall out to own me. The Sand People are the floor."

"Whoever found my head hurts sooo bad."

"Jimmer, you are the first ten minutes."

"The bottom of my skill set consists of detergent instead of the existence of the Ring."

"Just stole a book shaped present turned out of detergent instead of those free paint cards from WalMart."

"I haven't embraced the wise, kids: DO YOUR HOMEWORK ON TIME."

"1: Why do you want to be alive."

"I'm busily asserting my air."

"Apparently Vegas was a zombie apocalypse. Love this job?"

 "I think I'm sorry, Twitter."


 And the winner is:

"I'm a baby-hating bear vitamin." 


I think the moral of this story is that I should develop real interests.  Either that, or everyone should be following me on Twitter.

Scratch that. I am actually dying.

I am growing something.  Inside of me.  No, it is not a fetus.  It's more like a viral plague.  There is a probably unknown strain of some sort of soul-killing virus replicating inside of me and slowly sucking the life out of my body.  I'm not sure what it wants.  It's unclear whether it just intends to obstruct the air flow in my nose forever or whether its primary goal is to make me so woozy that I fall over and knock my head on the ground, possibly killing myself.  If the latter is the case, the virus really could just wait for nature to take its course.  I'm not particularly graceful, virus.  Just trying to help you out here.

Either way, I'm awake because I can't breathe and if I can't breathe I can't sleep and this all is much less serious than I'm making it sound.  Unless I really do die.  If I die, it's much more serious than I'm making it out to be.  Anyway, WANNA HEAR A STORY??

One day there was this really incredibly attractive girl named me.  I had to move all of my THINGS and STUFF and ITEMS from my college dorm to my room back at home because the university I was attending generally frowns upon people leaving piles and piles of junk in random rooms.  When I first moved into my dorm, I had a very reasonable amount of things.

Over time this amount grew.  I would come home from the store with some lotion, goldfish, decorative foam fingers.   Bags of useless stuff soon began piling under my bed.  I started to get slightly uncomfortable.  I was going to have to take this all back home, after all.  But I dismissed these thoughts and went out to buy more things.

In college there are these things called "dining plans" that give you free food.  Free food!  FREE FOOD!  And it's the good kind of food!  From vending machines and snack things and ice cream!  FREE FOOD...that I pay for every month as part of my rent, but STILL IT'S BASICALLY FREE!  I started to come home from class every day laden with food.  When it came time to move, for some reason I decided that the only thing I could possibly do with all of my food was pack it.  Along with all my other stuff.  Buy NEW FOOD?  NO!  IT WAS FREE FOOD!  So I packed my free food.  And my other things.  I began packing.  Things were going...okay.

I realized that I was going to need more boxes.  My roommate, meanwhile, had already packed and busily cleaned her half of the room like a responsible tornado of efficiency.  Oh, how I envied her ability to perform menial tasks without suffering from a total meltdown.  Nevertheless, I was determined to pack up all of my stuff all by myself.

Soon, I was in the zone.  A packing typhoon, I was a force to be reckoned with.  My arms were a blur, tossing items in boxes with reckless abandon.  Where my roommate was a well-oiled machine, stowing objects with precision, I was a flailing toddler throwing a temper tantrum. I flew across the room, cleaning walls and taping boxes and tearing down posters without any rhyme or reason.  I shoved my crap into every corner of every box almost angrily.  Actually, I was angry.  Why did I have so many things???  What was I doing shoving three bags of potato chips into a box of clothes???  WHY COULD I NOT GET "FRIDAY" OUT OF MY HEAD??!!  It wasn't long before the impossible became a glorious reality: all of my stuff was packed.

It was a lot less fulfilling than I thought it would be.

Unpacking was a miracle the likes of which have not been seen since biblical times.

The moral of the story: when you get a Happy Meal at McDonald's, throw away the toy instead of saving it and inexplicably bringing it and every other piece of useless junk that you've accumulated over the months with you when you move.

Just a quick update to let you know that I have not died a horrible death.

It seems like I'm always assuring people who don't care that I haven't experienced an untimely demise.  I need to come up with a new reassurance.  Like, "HEY I HAVEN'T CONTRACTED MALARIA LATELY, HAVE YOU?" and people would be like, "Dude, just shut up already, we KNOW that you're fine" and I'd laugh nervously and start talking about not being dead again. I don't know.  It's really late.  I shouldn't be blogging.

Since you're all so FREAKING INTERESTED in my schedule and life, I have officially finished my last day of classes (YAY) and will now enter finals week, which means this week will be a ton of studying and then there will come test taking and then moving back to my mom's house because I am so lame it's painful.  OH DID YOU KNOW MY MOM MAKES PRETTY HAIR STUFF NOW?!  She made me a headband that looks like that one Kate girl's headband.  Like, the chick who's marrying that prince guy.  William Shatner?  Yeah, that Kate who's marrying Prince William Shatner.  Anyway, I'll post a picture of that because my mom makes cool stuff and you all need to see it so that you can tell me my head is prettier than Princess Kate Shatner's head.

...I totally had a point with this.

OH YEAH.  So I'm going to be really busy for two-ish weeks, but then I'll be BACK and I'll do PRODUCTIVE THINGS like maybe change my blog layout to reflect the actual month that it is.  Because it is not February.  This is just embarrassing.

Anyway, point is I'm alive, just busy.  And I'll start being not busy so that you can all go back to telling me that you love me and/or telling me that I need to go die a thousand times and stop writing because my writing makes the world explode regularly or some such crap like that.  Yeah, that's what's up, HATERS.

...That was oddly hostile.  I'm sorry.  I need to go to bed now.  Been working on one too many final projects, if ya know what I mean.  And you probably do because that wasn't a euphemism at all.

Oh my goodness.  This is getting out of hand.  Goodnight.

Talking to me is dangerous because there's a good chance I'll blog about it.

My friend Carmen and I like to talk about anything other than the homework we are supposed to be completing.  One night, however, I texted her, asking about an essay for American Heritage in which we are supposed to discuss the Electoral College system.  This conversation (predictably) devolved into rabies and sandwiches.  It's like she doesn't even want to write an essay.

Carmen: Huzzah. It’s easier to write good about popular vote. And the more I learned about it, the more it makes sense. What’s wrong with our country?

Megan: Communism and rapists. And overpriced chip bags that are half chip-flavored oxygen. That’s what’s wrong with this country.

Carmen: Yeah YEAH! And-and… and possums! I mean, WHAT?! Are they, like, actually a contributing factor to the betterment of our country?! Psh! … ahem.

Megan: No! They don’t do anything! Just like… children under seven! Children under seven are totally communists. All they do is nothing plus drool.

Carmen: Also, the huge waste of money on the production of wrist-stressing tambourines is like… a huge waste of money. Add a hand grip for crying out loud!

Megan: Yeah! And plus, house plants! Do you know how much good, all American tap water we waste on dumb house plants every day?? Probably at least ten gallons.

Carmen: And why in heavens name are there suddenly BIRDS everywhere? Everywhere! On trees, and cars, and telephone wires.. Isn’t there some sort of cautionary discipline they can implement? I’ve got calls to make and I don’t want a sparrow cutting them short.

Megan: The bird epidemic is almost as bad as all these stupid schools. Like ‘ooooh the kids are the future’ and ‘education is important’ and crap. Well whatever because they’re just all over the place and they don’t ever do anything. I’ve never had a school make me a sandwich. I fail to see the usefulness.

Carmen: I wish bakeries would have some sort of law that forces THEM to eat the stale pastries they fail to sell and try to shove down our throats anyways. 1. They didn’t sell so they must not be good. 2. They are stale so they must be worse than before.

Megan: 3. They must be full of rabies, or else the cashiers would have eaten them by now. I would have.

I think we've just identified every problem in this once-great nation.

Happy Birthday because birthdays are important

I would just like to take a moment to wish my dear, sweet, slightly scary friend Tav a happy birthday.  She is lovely and tall and if you are a tall, attractive male, please send me a fb message because this is completely unrelated to Tav and has no bearing whatsoever on my birthday plans for her.

Happy Birthday, Tavski.

UPDATED: Tavia is totally not a giant monster beast.  She is actually very pretty and is not THAT tall, but I'm 5'1" so everyone seems tall to me, including Frodo.  Yeah.  Just thought I'd clear that one up because I AM NOT LIVING WITH A TROLL.  Unless she's actually a very pretty disguised troll.  Which really wouldn't be that bad and then it could be argued that trolls might be attractive.  Anyway.