HORRENDOUS -- READ IF YOU USE/ARE THINKING OF USING GOOGLE PLUS

Okay, so I tried Google Plus today, and was liking it -- Then it ruined my blog.

In G+, it automatically imports photos from your blogs (such as this one) in their own albums. Cute right? Well, I didn't want blog photos cluttering up the list of albums I had on G+, so I deleted the albums from G+. What they did NOT tell me, is that IT DELETES THOSE PHOTOS FROM THEIR SERVERS, AND THUS MY BLOG!!! So, I deleted this album from Google's Social site, and it completely wiped them from my site.

What an atrocious design flaw. It's inexcusable. I can't imagine the feeling that other bloggers will get that have spent years on their sites. Thankfully I didn't put as much work as I could've into this site over the past year, otherwise I may be in tears at this point.

I'm going to do my best to recover my photos and put them back up. I switched computers recently, so I may have them backed up somewhere. Even if I recover them all, this is a huge pain in the ass. Google is not on my good side right now.

Don't let this happen to you.

- Matt


P.S. - I still plan on working on new material in the coming month. Stay firsty, my friends.

EDIT: I've decided to concoct a new blog, since it'd be annoying to put everything back in order on this one. Also because I haven't updated this in forever. I'll post the link here when I come up with something.

EDIT #2: Here you go -- http://dabblesauce.blogspot.com/

EDIT #3: I forgot to mention the new domain! -- dabblesauce.com

Hiatus

Hello all,

I just want to say that I haven't quit the webcomic scene. I've been pretty busy lately, so it's been about 2 months since anything of value has been posted on here. Things will pick back up this month. Keep on the lookout for some obnoxious stuff!

- Matt

Remix

DJs are cool, but when they're not working, they're kind of dicks.

Prison Bars

Just a fun little doodle.

Pardon My Baa

Speeding Ticket

I had the great privilege of getting my 2nd speeding ticket yesterday while driving on the Mass Pike.

Although I was going a decent amount over the speed limit, it's just one of those places where if you drive the actual limit, your only excuse should be that you got lost on your way to bingo.

As I was pondering the repercussions of the $190 ticket in addition to the inevitable hike of my insurance premiums, I began thinking of things that I'd love to be able to say/do to the cop, just to make it more memorable:

 

Then I began to think of repercussions of those actions...

Next time.

Today's Win

Disgruntled Pigeon

 

 

Winter woes

"I brought 925 billion friends!"

Ways to keep warm

This is a public service announcement from us (the only person) here at TDR, educating you on some great alternative ways to stay warm this winter. Grab a cup of hot cocoa and pull up a chair, kids!

1. Take fat chicks home

2. Throw molotov cocktails in your path

3. Attempt to fly south



4. Let George Lopez heat you with his freaky eyes

5. Kidnap - it works up quite a sweat

I suppose you could just stick to bundling up, but I strongly advise against it; It's less fun, you look like a bitch, and makes you very susceptible to falling down hills.

Rape's another good one, but if you're ANY fun, that's included in "kidnapping" as well.

Time Travel

Aside from the confusion about paradoxes and drastically changing shit, there are of course those things we all would do/change if we could travel through time -- live a healthier lifestyle, be nicer to people, invent facebook, etc. Aside from those obvious and more "meaningful" changes, I'd love to go back in time just to, for lack of a better term, completely fuck with people. Yes, of course I'm going to list a few examples:

Homestuck image dump

I'm posting this simply for the purpose of being able to post it in the Homestuck forums. Hope people who read it enjoy this sloppy mash-up

slightly smaller version

The Majesty of Sandwiches

Let's cut right to the chase: I just decided (while surfing the internet with my Droid while on the toilet) that sandwiches are extremely powerful - not in the sense that they can destroy the entire history of bears with one punch (because we all know that's Chuck Norris' job), but because they command so much respect and value. Much like Rosie O'Donnell.

THE THREE MAIN ELEMENTS OF SANDWICHIAN MAJESTY:

Element 1: Deliciousness

I think we can all agree that sandwiches cause mouthgasms. Something about putting ingredients between two slices of bread (or three if you think you're fancy with your snooty club sandwich, you highfalutin prick.) just makes everything (aside from cauliflower [the devil's legume]) taste amazing.

As the science shown above clearly indicates, sandwiches without bread are a pile of gross play-doh blobs, or something like that. And as we know from basic science, play-doh tastes like Poseidon's salty butthole - a flavor which, while very arousing, is not very hunger-quelling. Hunger-quelling: 2011's top buzzword. Bet everything you own on that.

Element 2: Love

If you are alive, regardless of sensory capabilities, you love sandwiches. Immutable fucking FACT. Therefore, offering to buy/make/burglarize a sandwich for someone is pretty much the most thoughtful and amazingly heroic thing a human or lesser being can do. The best thing ever is having a sandwich waiting for you at the end of a tough day at work.

That's some serious science. I do NOT fuck around with statistics involving rhinos.

Anywho, as you can see, hyper-dense love is embodied in sandwich form - i.e. - if you have a sandwich, you command love from everyone.

Element 3: Power

Similar to how possessing a sandwich comes with great power, giving one a sandwich is submitting great power. Although it garners great honor and love, it also shows that you're retarded, and a pussy. It makes no sense to not eat every sandwich you possibly can, and giving one away or allowing one to be taken before (and in my opinion, after) death is an inexcusable act of cowardess and displays ultimate weakness on the submitter's behalf. "Make me a sandwich" didn't come as a pompous self-superiority phrase out of thin air. Science, history, science, physics, and science, folks. Try and keep up.

Labcoats. Beakers. Chalk.

The Girlfriend Toss

I have decided that I am a terrible person -- this may not come as a shock to some of you that know me well, and this most certainly won't come as any shock to those of you who know me solely through my comics/blog posts. This particular revelation came to me through an entry on TFLN.

"Take this only to mean that we love you, but we're having a serious, half-hour, hypothetical discussion about how far we think we could throw you."

I immediately had the urge to throw my girlfriend, as far as I goddamn could.

As a man of considerable "bulk" (read as: a marginal amount of muscle and a considerable amount of fat), I can easily pick up most people that I know. My girlfriend also happens to be tiny; I'm pretty sure she could find clothes for herself at Baby Gap without an issue.

Being the terrible person that I am, I instantly got excited about the idea of trying to toss my girlfriend as far as I possibly could. I began devising ways to do so with the greatest possible height, horizontal distance, and of course, injury.

After mulling over a few ideas that involved catapults, trebuchets, and other mechanisms, I decided that I should do the honorable thing and stick to throwing her using only my own strength. The three options that would probably work the best would be throwing her up and over my shoulder, holding her by the legs and spinning and letting go, and having her stand/sit on my hands as I shove her at a 45 degree angle into the air. Option 3 seems to be my best bet for total distance, as the spinning throw would probably lose distance due to centripetal force (idiots, read as: the spinney motion), and the fireman throw over the shoulder would have a high likelihood of friction drag. Giving her a "ten-fingers" launch (perverts, read as: you are disgusting but I thought the same thing) would utilize my arms, back, and legs in one fluid motion, and create the best trajectory.

Now all I need to do is find a way to lure her to stand on the palms of my hands.

Nosebleed

As a child, I got a lot of nosebleeds. This was in part attributed to the fact that I was a picker, part because of dry air, and .05% of incidents were because of line drives to the face from a solid Fisher Price wiffleball resulting in a broken nose at age 4.

Anywho, this brings me to a more recent nosebleed occurrance.

It was an icy winter night during my freshman year of college. I was taking the T (for those of you who aren't familiar with this vernacular, the "T" is the Massachusetts/Boston transit system, usually the subway -- A glistening beacon of punctuality and cleanliness) back towards school, when I randomly got a nosebleed.

Now, as some of you may know, blood isn't really easily detectable by touch. It's pretty much the same temperature as skin, so if you're bleeding and you can't see it, you usually dont know it's happening unless pain is involved. Since it was a random nosebleed, I had no idea it was happening. The dry air must have gotten the best of Mr. Shnoz (sounds like a friendly Indian man's name...?), and he began producing quite the waterfall down my face.

At that point, I had no idea what was going on. I was staring at my dim reflection in the window across from me (which of course wasn't vibrant enough to show the blood now streaming down my face and sweatshirt), humming in my head something probably like, "doot doot doo on the fuckin T wanna be back at school bluh bluh it smells like piss in here". I felt a little tickling sensation on my upper lip, so I wiped my face. As I was doing so, I saw something dark drip onto my backpack which I had just placed between my legs. Confused, I caught a glimpse of my hand as I was brining it back to my side, and it looked a little something like this:

Naturally, I was shocked. My instinct was to then keep wiping my face to see if there was more blood. I got it all over my hands and both sleeves, and it had dripped down my shirt all over my pants and backpack. It was at this point that I realized that everyone in the traincar was probably intently watching this all unfold, without making a peep. I began laughing.

It wasn't any normal kind of laughter, it was one of those rare occasions where you start off with a closed-mouth, light chuckle, and work your way up to a disconcerting cackle.

Everyone on the T looked horrified - as they should've. I'd be concerned for my safety if I saw someone like that. I couldn't help but continue laughing. Psychopath.

I eventually got off the T, still laughing, and made my way back to school, stepping in an extremely deep puddle along the way. Pants soaked, covered in blood, STILL laughing as I got to my room... The look on my roomates' faces were priceless. I just wish a small child was on the T that night.