Dissection of a Phil

It's been quiet around here, readers, and your first thought may be, naturally, that I've been busy romancing supermodels in countries you're not VIP enough to have heard of, where wine flows freely from golden fountains and partaking of fruits so breathtakingly delicious that each bite is like living an entire perfect life and dying quietly in your sleep with a smile on your lips.

Well that is almost true, except for all of it, which is false.

With all my BFFs moving away, my days have become pretty much indistinguishable from one another. In fact, with two exceptions every day goes exactly the same for me now:

-Get up around 11 or 12

-Hang out around home, think about not wanting to go to work

-Go to work from 5:30-10 (sometimes I get out early, on Thursdays or Saturdays, but it gets busy later now so the amount of time I get is becoming less and less)

-Come home and play Prototype (this is a new addition that replaced general internet surfing)

-Around 1:30-2:00AM or so, start drawing a comic page, which finishes almost mechanically at 4:30, at which point I curse the light coming over the horizon and try to get to sleep, which usually happens by 5 or 5:30

-Also Saturday and Sunday I work from 12-2

That's how every single day goes, except for the weekend which is characteristically worse in every way.

Not that I'm complaining. I mean I am technically complaining, but I'm not looking for sympathy, rather I get asked constantly what I'm doing with my summer and I'm getting bored with saying "nothing" or "this," because everyone asks me this while I'm at work.

So for any of you that are wondering:

No I'm not goddamn doing anything.

P.S. shakytable.com/sterilecomic

it's almost getting good