The evening started out friendly enough, Mike and Kali flexing their witty banters.
Then gifts were exchanged.(Thanks for my CDs man) Among the gifts were several rubber pellet pistols. Pellet pistols in a room full of slightly sloshed cartoonists? What were they thinking!? Well, all hell soon broke out. Yellow pellets were soon pinging right and left off of this cornea, that Corona.
When suddenly Uncle Eddie drew a slow and careful bead on no other than his very own off spring.
Such a dastardly act that he had to cover his own eyes in shame.
Right in front of his mother too!
But what HO' Bert has come prepared with a gun of his own. With a steely gleam in his eye whispers, "This is what I learned from Matt Damon!" Peppering his father with round after merciless round.
Undaunted Eddie returns fire!
Mr.Worth retreats into his fortress of solitude.
But what's this? Eddie has run out of small yellow projectiles.
He tries in vain to block and dodge the incoming projectiles.
But soon collapses under the overwhelming barrage of pellets.
At this point Beery The Singing bear, called me into the corner, and sang me a song about cowgirls with artificial legs. Cowgirls with artificial legs that wore tight vests , and maybe nothing under the tight vests. Cowgirls with artificial legs, in little fringe skirts that barely cover their stuff. Cowgirls with artificial legs, in tight vests, that like to eat cold cream corn straight out of the can. That sweet song floated me far above the mel'ee, as if I were in a soft Demerol induced cloud. That's all I remember, until I woke up in the gutter under my car with my pants on backwards. So whatever you do,.....Don't trust Singing bears!
Look at creepy fireplace head man. Are those children locked in some sort of jail?
This gives me a little touch of The Omega man feeling if you know what I mean.
Off into the night followed by the wandering hordes.
It's like my very own Corona commercial.
Such a dastardly act that he had to cover his own eyes in shame.
Right in front of his mother too!
Mr.Worth retreats into his fortress of solitude.
But what's this? Eddie has run out of small yellow projectiles.
He tries in vain to block and dodge the incoming projectiles.
At this point Beery The Singing bear, called me into the corner, and sang me a song about cowgirls with artificial legs. Cowgirls with artificial legs that wore tight vests , and maybe nothing under the tight vests. Cowgirls with artificial legs, in little fringe skirts that barely cover their stuff. Cowgirls with artificial legs, in tight vests, that like to eat cold cream corn straight out of the can. That sweet song floated me far above the mel'ee, as if I were in a soft Demerol induced cloud. That's all I remember, until I woke up in the gutter under my car with my pants on backwards. So whatever you do,.....Don't trust Singing bears!
First attempt is just feeling out the shapes of his head. This can be tough especially if you only have publicity photos to work from. Which all tend to be from the same angle. (Boring)
Starting to get a grasp on what points I want to accentuate.
A little pushing a pulling, but still being held back by the photos.
Then I toss the photos up under my desk and work from memory .
I would have liked to explore a little more as I was just starting to get a feel for Tom's face.
It was the high point of my day followed closely by a fight with my girlfriend...the low point.
