Brett, please, read this.

Tuesday, June 9th, 2009

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Better yet, let’s make ammends and move on, man! I’d gladly forget the whole mess, sign Favre back, give him a little “kiss and makeup” parade, rename a high school after him, whatever, just pleeeeease don’t make this ugly. Please don’t make me draw any more comics about something so petty and drawn out (a pun!)!

Cortney suggested I draw this comic, then said something else which was more interesting would probably happen to me today. But I drew this one anyway, because I think it’s important for Brett Favre to know how I feel. In order to increase the chances that he’ll find this when he does a google search I’m going to go a little crazy on the tags.

Tennis the menace, and other sports puns.

Tuesday, September 2nd, 2008

There’s no need to say it in any clever way.  This past summer I began playing tennis.  I’m not great, but I’m not terrible, and I think I have potential.  I say this because I was something of a star athlete before I suppressed my athletic side sophomore year of high school.  From age 5 to 15 I was a formidable presence in the world of tee-ball, hardball, softball, basketball, and even volleyball.  I enjoyed it for about a decade, and then willfully gave it up to pursue things more creative.  I guess at the time I thought that these two parts of me, the athletic and the artistic, could not peacefully coexist.

But lately I’ve been allowing myself to get back in touch with my sporty side.  This weekend, for example, you would not believe how much sports I watched!  I watched parts of the US Open, college football, pro baseball, and even a commentary show on the Packers training camp.  Granted, these were just parts, and I probably would have chosen something else if I had the option.  And I’m sure that part of the thrill was watching it on my parents’ new big screen TV (for those of you who know my family, you know that the purchase of this TV was a historical moment long in the making) but I think that part of me actually enjoyed it.  Part of me was caught up in that spirit of competition that I thought had only settled on me momentarily during the 16 days of the BeijingOlympics.

I’m not the same girl I was between ages 5 and 15, obviously, but I’m not the same woman I was between ages 15 and 25 either. So maybe I’m a sports fan again.  I’m not saying I’m about to trade in my pens and paint and paper for a subscription to Sports Illustrated, but if I get the urge to join a tennis club or arrange my plans around the Packers schedule, I’m not going to fight it.  ‘Sall I’m sayin’. (That seems like something a sporty person would close a blog with.)