I started working on that Jimmy Corrigan paperdoll thing. Let me preface this misadventure by admitting to you all the following important points:
Therefore, don't judge me. Also, the pictures were taken on my cellphone, so don't hate.
Let the adventure begin:
Why are we in the tool room? Well, the scissors just weren't cutting the mustard for some of the finer detail (which I fucked up horribly). Exacto knives are for artists and goths and I've never really been a finesse kind of guy anyway so...
(the last time I used a boxcutter for a school project I cut a vein in my arm, sprayed blood all over my teacher's house, and got six stitches. Ask me to show you the scar sometime if you don't believe me! But that's neither here nor there!)
On a side note, little kids kept coming to my house asking me for candy. It's my candy. Maybe if they had jobs they'd be able to afford candy and wouldn't have to go around the neighborhood asking for handouts. The first ones that stopped by had swords, so I figured I'd better arm myself and protect what was rightfully mine.
Me and my dear friend Sig P226 were holding down the fort. All I'm saying is that if they start throwing eggs at my house, I start throwing lead at their faces.
Amidst all of this excitement, how far did I get? well....
Not very far. This is so hard. I hate you Chris Ware. I honestly hope that you have kids my age just so I can find them and kick their asses for being your children. My buildings look like shit. They fall apart more than the goddamn house of leaves.
I'm not sure if I'm going to finish this. I have a butane torch (not pictured) that I've been thinking about taking to the Corrigan estate here. Who knows.