W. Pitts just game into the store. Mr. Pitts is a middle-aged man with curly puffs of nearly orange hair growing out from the sides of his head. He was, like many of our customers, only concerned with how cheap something was, no matter if he particularly wanted it, and spent over two hundred eggs on discounted DVDs he had never heard of, and rolled his eyes at not getting a discount on a three dollar VHS tape.

After W. Pitts bought his DVDs (giving me a look as I announced the price as if I was the one who made him put them in his cart) he bought a mango juice in a little can.

"Open it for me," he said, putting it in front of me.

"Uhm, no," I said, putting up my hands to keep them from even accidentally touching the can. "I don't touch other people's food or drinks."

"Well I need you to open it or I can't drink it," he said, looking at me like this was totally obvious.

"Look, all you gotta do is pull the tab thing."

"Well I can't do it."

"Why not?"

"Because I never have."

"You can pull on a tab."

"No, I'll tell you why," he said. "When these first came out, people used to pull the tabs off and throw them out their car windows, and I lived in Vermont and everywhere they glittered like a sea of silver. So I said I'd never open one and I never will."

"While I respect your principles, I'm not touching your drink," I said.

"Well then I want my dollar back."

"What?"

"If you won't open it for me, give me back my dollar."

I contemplated going Coffy on him, chucking it in his bag and yelling, "No REFUND, muthafucka!" But I didn't. I just opened it.

Then W. Pitts happily took a drink, told me how refreshing it was, and went on his way.

This is what happens where I work.

I am so excited that my darling delicious friend Whitney will be arriving (gasp!) on Thursday! One day and fifteen minutes! This is going to be one extra fun time. I need a break, too. I need to sort out my head and gain some enlightenment.

Lately I've been saying things, kindly or innocently meant, and they've been taken the wrong way and blown entirely out of proportion, causing some argument or awkwardness or anger. Something I hardly notice saying will get someone riled, and I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I think I need to read some Buddhist literature, take a few days off, and learn the value of silence. A more humorous example of this thing that's been happening to mee is this, which happened today. I was calling a man named Ken about a DVD he ordered from the store, and when I called the number he gave us, a voice answered, "King Neptune."

I was a bit ruffled. I mean, usually people say "hello" or "this is Ken", et cetera. I've never heard someone say "King Neptune" as a greeting, and it threw me for a Froot Loop.

"Pardon?" I said, because I didn't think to say, "Greetings, your Majesty."

"King Neptune Carpet Cleaning," the guy said, and it was immediately clear. "This is Ken."

"Ken!" I said. "Okay, hi. See, I thought you were introducing yourself as King Neptune, which would have been a little weird." I giggled.

"Uh, I do introduce myself that way," he said angrily. "I'm a carpet cleaner."

Oh of course. Makes perfect sense that all carpet cleaners should call themselves King Neptune. Why didn't I see it before? Naturally you would get salty with me and treat me like a dunce for not realizing that you are both Ken and King Neptune. A thousand pardons.



Anyway, I'm off to paint henna on my hands for the first time. Wish me luck, sweehearts.

Happy Wednesday! Do please enjoy your cartoon.

Today has been an emotional crazyhouse, more downs than ups, and way too much stress for someone whose biggest worries are usually concerning drawing cartoons and not sitting in a pee-seat on the bus. Living with my mother, having barely enough money to get by even with help, my mother's occassional and not always unintentional rudeness to my boyfriend, the impending feeling that I will never be as good an artist as my heroes, the unwelcome prospect of possibly having to move to a town further from my sister to satisfy my mother's hatred of traffic or face living on my own or with the Boyfriend which -- considering a one-room apartment in Hawaii costs, at the very best, nine hundred dollars a month -- would mean my taking a second job and therefore having no more time for my cartoon... these are issues that have been pounding on my skull with giant hammers all day.

There were good things. My raise kicked in this week, and, as I found out today, the raise is a bit more than what I was told it would be, which means good news for my rumbling tummy. My wonderful boyfriend came to pick me up even though he said he couldn't, and he also bought me a collection of a fabulous Frank Cho comic strip that he said reminded him of mine (though I only wish) called Liberty Meadows. In spite of having a main female character that is perfect in every way with ridiculously large boobs and tiny waist and more or less modeled after Lynda Cater as Wonder Woman, it is a hilarious and beautifully drawn strip, right up there with Bone and Calvin & Hobbes, both of which he is clearly influenced by. I'm going to tuck into it once I finish this post, and possibly also one of those microwave soft pretzels that mum bought, very sweetly.

So please, my favorite people, help me out. I need to shift my focus. I need to concentrate on what's really important, rather than this petty stuff. Like trees. And the giant panda. And applesauce.

Send me photos, lists, stories, videos, of things you find wonderful, amazing, important, funny, soulful. A friend of mine, without any prompting, just sent me this incredible video of an elephant painting a self portrait. Hilarious, beautiful, emotional, even. Or maybe I'm a sap. But I want everyone to see it, and I want to see more.

Show me something great. Show me a photo of you, maybe. Put more happy out there, out here, where we need it.

Love you.