hourly comic day 2019

prompt:
draw a short comic for every hour of your day from the time you wake up to the time you go to sleep

8:00am

woke up feelin crusty & looking like johnny from the room tribute flash game
polar vortex vibes. standing in my yard in a big coat, it's 13° and windy, but oakley the dog seems quite happy
close-up on oakley eating snowflakes out of the air. at least one of us is having a good time.

9:00am

in the car on the way to work and i'm vibrating while “torn” by natalie imbruglia plays on the stereo. kyle is driving. trying hard not to let on just how much i like this song lest i scare kyle
walking into the office and passing m. fairbank, who is policing the coffee as usual and saying something about how “driving sucks because other people suck at driving.” someone else is agreeing with him. panda cam is on at the office
(it's sleeping so we are being very quiet.) the panda dozes away in peace

10:00am

me type type typing at my messy desk. have been blowing off work for comics so it is time to blow off comics for work
my desk is where sticky notes go to die. said notes are covered in illegible writing that is no more useful now than it was at the time.
at the scrum, in the fishbowl meeting room, tim k. is running the projector and has zoomed in so far that the only words that can fit on the screen are “release note.&rquo; harold: is that big enough tim? tim: i glasses desperately.

11:00am

echoes & wisps of conversations from across the office. shot of the top of my desk above my monitors, where several people are asking: “eggs?” “eggs!” “eggs?” “no eggs, dude” “eggs” “eggs! yeah!”
i'm typing again, folded over my desk almost at a right angle with my glasses on top of my head, squinting. more egg talk is happening in the background. somehow i am not the person w/ the worst posture @ our company
(at least that's what i tell myself). a vision of me, age 30, back bent at 90°, in a bathrobe and using a walker, is yelling “you will pay for this folly.” i insist that i know, but i don't stop what i'm doing.

funny story: this prophecy came true literally the next year

12:00pm

textin my gf. she is saying nice things and i am reminded that i am so gay
finished a project that has been in the works for weeks. i'm clicking DONE on a jira ticket called BIG PROJECT that is finally over and apparently took 30 hours to do. action taken: “Did it”
immediately found a bug. still on the same ticket screen, i've received an email from qa titled “RE: BIG PROJECT” that says “Hi the thing you made is broken here are screenshots.” oh no

1:00pm

standing in the hallway between the office and the garage on the phone while it snows outside, and i'm cranky. trying to make an appointment with my psych doc but their phone lines are closed for lunch.
anger rays coming off of me as i'm listening to the pre-recorded message saying “Hi we're having snacks please call back later thanks bye.” why is that a thing
their phone lines get lunch?? they have no answering machine? the pre-recorded message continues “btw don't leave a message we won't get it” and then the line goes dead. i'm BIG MAD and yell “WOW OK” to the concern of poor d. palmer passing by

2:00pm

workin. examples of the things i am responding to regularly: “my thing broke. why” “i tried nothing and can't solve this bug” “do you have an eta for the ticket i made two minutes ago” “[thing that everyone else knows how to do] how?” “eggs” yadayadayada.

3:00pm

waited too long & missed my window for lunch. “H E L L O it's me ur tummy,” my stomach says. “DUDE,” i reply.
i can hear the new guy quietly cursing at code. shot of the side of my desk and p. sharma's desk right behind it, as he's muttering “fuck” “what” “seriously”
he's fitting in fine. i join the cuss storm with some “shit”s and “huh?”s of my own as he contributes another “damn”

4:00pm

nobody came to the big inter-departmental meeting. of all the seats at the big table, only those for calvin, courtney, alex, and me are occupied. alex asks if we should just have a dance party?
we canceled it so i got to go to a whole different meeting (late). i offer a “helloooo” as i breeze into the room where tim k. and kevin are sitting. tim lets me know that they were, like, done, but ok
nick is jogging through the office again. (something must be broken) (or, he's bored)

5:00pm

workin. musing on how little i've done today while listening to a playlist my gf made me (she is the best)
overhearing dev drama is wild. some isolated snippets: “this is probably nonsense.” “the fact that you didn't catch this is a problem.” “how can we make sure this never happens again” “so we've actually been doing this wrong the whole time” “if this goes out like that we are so boned” “steve...” “dude... what?”

6:00pm

6:00PM: time to go home. someone dinged the bell for the first time in a while (i suspect tom). the bell is a literal service/call bell on somebody's desk deep in dev territory. the dinger holds a neutral expression and leans way too far over to ding it from way too far away.
a horde of devs (looks like harold d., nick r., tim k., tom w., tyler s., and m. fairbank) has suddenly popped up from nowhere and they all applaud with neutral expressions. it's always weird hearing the devs applaud its chime but it's kinda nice?
i have so much to do on monday but for once i don't care: i am driving and delirious. me: haha what it's 6 o'clock? kyle: yeah me: we're going home! kyle: uh yeah

7:00pm

7:00PM: HOME. everyone is hanging out tonight but i am at home with soda pop. my little dog is chewing on the remnants of a once-proud squeaky squirrel toy and is radiating happiness.
eatin dindin & catching up on comics. kyle gave me his chips so i'm eating them and gnawing on a sandwich while drawing at my kitchen table. oakley, the relentless, hovers below me with a kettle ball
thinkin. got a lot on my mind: cider in the fridge; leafs game tonight; comics; clean the house; meds; lots of work on monday; playlist; james bday; band practice tomorrow; where's my gf smdh... love her; im gay; and several other things

8:00pm

gone out to play ball with oaky. i'm back in my giant parka as it's 16° outside. i'm using a chuck-it to throw the ball in the backyard strip for oakley to go long
oakley catches the ball with a big mid-air leap. it is so cold and she is tireless.
she's having so much fun though. tongue lolling out, oakley rolls around in the snow, slobbering and disgusting

9:00pm

caption: snug as fuck. “i'm snug as fuuuck” i shout to the heavens, sitting in bed under the blankets with my comics, the tv remote, and a bottle of cider
watchin medical stories on youtube & drinkin cider. on the tv is the youtuber Chubbyemu, with the riveting tale “A GUY ATE TOO MANY SNACKS.”
panda slippers: ON. these slippers are my pride and joy: fuzzy, comfy, and surrounding my whole foot, with a cute panda face on each one.

10:00pm

second verse same as the first (cider & tv). once again i make my status known: “i'm snug as fuuuuuuuuck”
thinkin about that panda cam. i'm frowning as i imagine the panda saying something useless like “blearb.”
contrary to all this panda content, i do not like pandas. my imaginary panda hollers a jolly “rearrrrbh” as i muse on how it's a dumb animal.

11:00pm

dog has hiccups. the room is dark. oakley is sleeping on the end of my bed and intermittently hic-ing.
half-assed, half-finished self-portrait. im tired
panel is empty as i am sleep