The Astonishing 200lb Man VS. the Wide-Eyed Basement Dwellers (in 3-D!)

I attended the Summit City Comic Con today and I saw a great many people dressed up as Star Wars characters. There were some awkward moments, to be honest, but all in all it was a good day.

 

Not me.

 

Me. And I don't mind saying that I look pretty darn good in my stripey shirt.

 I met and interacted with the following artists and would recommend that you check them out (each artist's name links to his web site):

Ryan Claytor (Elephant Eater Comics)

Andy Jewett

Aaron Minier

Actually, I've worked with Aaron Minier in the past (briefly, but, in my opinion, very successfully), but I met him for the first time, face to face, today. He was taller than I had hoped.

Anyway, it was a good time. I got to hang out with my old buddy Nate and I got to chat with people who knew WAYYY too much about some very obscure super heroes and I got to see some very lonely people dressed in a way that was obviously designed to make certain that their loneliness stretches on until the end of time.

Also, there was free soda.

Do yourself and the rest of yourself a favor and check out these prince... prints. Sorry. (CLIQUEABLE LINQUE!)

My friend Nate Utesch designed these five screen-prints commemorating NASA's shuttle program which will soon be available to purchase online. You will ache and pine for them, trust me. Or is it "oak and pine"? I don't know trees.

Thank you,
      Matt Beers

Dork-fest '11

In two days time (June 18, 2011) I will be seated in a booth at the Summit City Comic Con signing autographs, posing for photos, and answering all of your questions. It's at the Grand Wayne Center in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Here's a link: LINQUE!

You may want to get there early to get a good place in line.

Actually, the whole thing is a little... weird. Nate signed us up for a Ferocious booth at the comic con, but some wires must have gotten a bit crossed because we each have our own booth. We'll probably just pick whichever one seems like it has the best location and set up there.

I'm not entirely sure what is expected of me. I doubt I'll be signing much or posing for photos or answering any questions other than, "Annnd... WHO are you, exactly?" That said, it sounds a lot like my wedding day.

Anyway, if you're in town and you want to come see the 200lb Man take on the public in a very lackadaisical display of self-promotion, I'll be there all day. Bring me a sandwich or something, 'cause I'm pretty sure it'll be hungry in there.

Thank you,
      Matt Beers

The business at hand has little to do with business and even less to do with hands.

What is up, party people?! I'll just dive right into the house-selling recap because that's pretty much been occupying all of my time lately.

We were gonna sell our house but because we run a business our taxes make it look like we make practically no dollars a year in spite of our perfect payment record with our current mortgage and so we were unable to get pre-approved for an adequate loan and then a bunch of other stuff happened that we hoped would fix the problem and then didn't and then we did some other stuff that we thought would fix the problem and we just found out today that it did. So, that's awesome.

It was God at work in a big way. I believe He means to teach us patience and faith and how to be content. We're slow learners.

Most of you have probably bought and/or sold a home at some point so I'm not going to go into all of the irritating headaches. The house we live in is only our second home. I'm not pretending to be an expert, but let me just say this: We first called our Realtor on April 26. We still don't have a sign in our front yard. It has taken us twenty (20) days to get pre-approved for a loan. Step one (1). Twenty (20) days. That's about nineteen (19) days longer than we thought it would take, than it should have taken. None of this is our Realtor's fault and we're not looking for someone else to take the reigns, so just back the eff up Troy Wieland.

Step Two: Selling our house.

Step two (2) should be a breeze. You hear stories all the time about how people find a buyer on their second or third day on the market. Happens all the time. Nobody ever has trouble finding a buyer. Never.

I'd rather not talk about steps three (3) or four (4).

Step Five: Move in!

And to make up for such an incredibly long pause between posts, here's a very short story I wrote for the Ferocious blog which probably won't get posted because I kinda think Nate, the guy in charge, either didn't like it or is really busy right now. So you guys can read it here for free... instead of on the Ferocious web-site which is also free.

         The Switch

I wish someone would have told me how hard it is being a father and a husband. Skinned knees and hurt feelings are part of my everyday life, but this kind of decision-making... I hate it. 

Beth and I bought our first house right after we got married. We spent months painting and selecting furniture until our house was perfect. One day, Beth started getting sick every morning and craving weird things.

We turned my home office into a nursery and I moved my desk and computer and bookshelves out into the garage. Several months later we had a fat baby boy and named him Jake. We baby-proofed and repainted and rearranged until our house was perfect. Then, a few years later, Beth  started getting sick again and craving weird things again. 

We turned Beth's craft-room into a nursery and moved her craft table and sewing machine and scrapbooks out into the garage, next to all of my stuff. Several months later we had a fat baby girl and named her Mary. We re-baby-proofed and repainted and rearranged until our house was perfect. Then, a few years later... Jo. A girl Jo.

Buying a house is no treat, especially while trying to sell one at the same time. It's all about timing and when you've got three kids, one still the general size and shape of a larvae, it's almost impossible to live a normal  life. Naps are interrupted by showings. Meals are interrupted by showings. Showers, movie-nights, play-dates... 

Your whole life comes to a complete halt just so some nosy stranger can poke around your home and make snide remarks about the decor. And they have no appreciation for the amount of work that you put in to the house to make it as ambiguous and subtly appealing as possible. Half of the pictures on your wall have to come down and you have to patch all of the little nail holes and paint. Now, collect half of the toys in the kids' rooms and box them up. They can go in the attic for a few months. The toys, not the kids. And remember those tall bushes you planted at the back of the house so you wouldn't have to watch your fat neighbor make his morning coffee in his underwear? Rip 'em out.

That stuff is nothing compared to THIS kind of tense situation.

We finally sold the house. Beth cried as we pulled away which started Jake  crying which started Mary crying. Jo was already crying. She's only six-months old. And the drive across town seemed to take forever, mostly because my brother-in-law, who was supposed to be following us in the moving van, disappeared somewhere near the mall. I called his cell-phone, but it started ringing from the back seat of our van. Jake had been playing with it. So, we had to backtrack to make sure everything was okay. We found my brother-in-law and the moving van wedged under a drive-through awning. 

Finally at the new house, we went inside and tried to open the garage door, but for some reason it wasn't working. It worked just fine when we had the inspection, but whatever. I just wanted to get everything unloaded. Beth ordered pizza while her brother and I unloaded box after box after box and Jake and Mary raced around our legs playing a new game that involves getting stepped on. 

In the process of moving in, Beth discovered a wasp nest under the back porch, her brother dislodged the dryer vent with his fat head, Jake discovered that someone had clogged the toilet (a gift from the previous owners), and Mary announced that the basement walls are filled with cotton candy, but it doesn't taste very good. After finding the wasp-spray, plunger, and duct-tape, and after Beth rushed Mary to the ER (nothing to worry about, we were told), we finally finished unloading and sent Beth's brother to return the van. I have no idea if he made it. I don't really care.

None of that was really even an issue, not like this.

The kids' rooms are a mess with furniture and boxes. The kitchen is littered with empty soda cans and pizza boxes. Jo is curled up in an empty drawer, finally asleep. Beth made a bed out of blankets and pillows and fell right asleep. Jake and Mary watched a movie in the living room and are curled up in their sleeping bags, clutching one another. I can see them breathing softly from where I stand at the kitchen sink. The boxes all around the kitchen have things written on them like "Beth's stupid kitchen crap," or "stuff the Goodwill wouldn't take." Her brother won't be helping us with our next move.

The big problem, the one that has pretty much been the cherry on top of this sundae, is that I need a drink of water. I need one very badly. And seeing as none of the boxes are labeled appropriately, I'm going to have to do some digging in order to find a glass. I can't turn on the overhead light in the kitchen because it might wake up Jake and Mary. So I'm standing here in front of the kitchen sink looking at two switches. One will turn on the small light above the sink and one will turn on the monstrous garbage disposal beneath the sink. I have no idea which switch is which and I feel like crying.

         No one told me how hard all of this was going to be.

Thank you,
      Matt Beers

Plans. (NOT the very excellent Death Cab For Cutie album.)

I can't believe it's been a week since my last post. I must be lazier than I realize. I've been trying to tie up a few loose ends in my life that have been a constant distraction. By this I mean that I've finally finished watching Battlestar Galactica. Now, with Admiral Adama and President Roslin out of my life, I can focus on what really matters: finally finishing Arrested Development. I'm almost kidding.

The weather lately has been pretty nice. The promise of Spring is one thing, but seeing the first tiny payout of warmth and sunshine has really sparked a change in me. I'm feeling much less grumpy and far more willing to actually move. I've even been lifting weights! Well... lifting weight. Singular. I only have the one.

I've made a decision that I'm going to lose some weight and get in better shape. Lifting my weight is step one. Step two is to cut out soda. Step three is to sew my head back on after I cut it off while in the midst of soda withdrawal. Step four is to... I don't actually have a step four. I doubt I'll get past step two.

In addition to improving my physical health I am putting a lot of focus on my spiritual health. Even though I've been a Christian most of my life, I've never made a habit of reading my Bible. I have a Bible app on my iPod Touch and, as I almost always have it with me, I have no excuse NOT to read.

I'm also planning on spending more time writing. I have tons of story ideas for a series of short stories I've been writing called "In the Shadow of the Standard and Hope," a few of which have been published in the sublime quarterly publication known as Ferocious Quarterly.

Other summer projects include (but are not limited to): planting a tiny 3x3 garden in the backyard for the daycare kids, removing some items (dead plants and large, broken toys) from our backyard,  figuring out what to do about the mole problem that seems to have gotten worse over the winter, and setting up a permanent memorial in honor of the gazebo that collapsed last year.

Thank you,
      Matt Beers

Unexpected pats on the back are always nice.

I take it back. I am going to write a blog post today. Well, kind of.

Check out this link. I'm mentioned and not in the usual way.

LINK!

I totally needed this today.

Thank you,
      Matt Beers

There's a bump on the blog in the hole in the bottom of the sea.

I know, I know, I know... I didn't mean to fail you all again so soon. I actually have "blog failure" scheduled on my calendar for mid-September. But the problem is that I'm working on my Ferocious Quarterly assignment and I've been stressing about it and by the end of the day, when I do everything that I skipped earlier in the day, my writing tank is dry.

And the saddest part is that I promised my collaborator (He's an amazing artist named Aaron Minier who you can find in my Nogs of Bloat section... You know what? Just click this subtly highlighted section of words.) that I would have the piece to him by tonight at the latest so he can have the single illustration done in time for issue #2 of Ferocious Quarterly... which is due out in October. So... he's got a little time to work on it.

Anyway, I'm writing this post to tell you that, if I finish in time tonight, I will come back here and write ANOTHER even MORE awesome post, if you can wrap your head around it.

Thanks,
Matt Beers

They're balls... made of meat!

Oh, man, I'm such a bad blogger... I'm really very sorry for any damage done to your equilibrium due to my lack of posts. I know how you all rely on me to provide you with daily edification in the face of a harsh and cruel world that seems very intent on Shawshanking the lot of us. For my failure to uphold my duty, I apologize. It will most certainly happen again. The best thing you can do is to just be prepared.

Anyway, I was thinking about the difference between meatballs and meatloaf the other day. It seems to me that the guy who invented meatballs must have thought he was pretty darn clever. And then some guy comes along and says, "Oh! Balls of meat! How... cute. Have you seen my LOAF of meat? It's not cute, but it could kick the sauce out of your pansy little meatballs." It's like the guy who invented the unicycle is bragging to some pretty girl at a party when the guy who invented tanks walks in.

My wife tells me that I spend too much time on my computer. I told her that if we had a step-stool I'd use that instead. No, but seriously, folks, I'm addicted to my computer. Facebook, Netflix, Youtube, this blog, my other blog, my other other blog, Ferocious, and, every once in a while, I check my e-mail. It's doing damage to my credibility as a good husband and father. So, I'll try to cut out the frivolous stuff (Youtube and most of the Facebooking) and focus on the work-type stuff (Ferocious, blogs, e-mail) and when I feel I've earned it, I'll spend a little time watching movies on Netflix.

I finally found someone who wants the piano in my garage. Remember the piano in my garage? I talked about it at length several months ago, shortly before I started talking at length about the gazebo, which, in spite of at least a dozen laws of logic and physics, is still standing. So, a friend of mine, a girl who went on the Serbia trip with us, tells me she took piano lessons for six years as a little girl and has been thinking about starting up again. She should be picking it up this weekend. Maybe next. I don't know. She was kinda vague on some of the details.

And with the behemoth out of the way, I can finally get down to business on the garage. I still have about eight boxes of books I need to get rid of and lots of interesting odds and ends that I once believed wholeheartedly would come in useful in some way. I have lots of shelves that aren't holding anything. I have several cabinets that are mostly empty. I have a dozen kids' riding toys littering the floor. I have a big-screen television and two very comfortable chairs that I would love dearly to be able to get to. So, with summer wrapping up, I'm pretty flippin' excited about a good garage cleaning.

Our bedroom is also in a state of great need. We painted a few months ago and bought a really cool comforter and some lamps that almost match it. And then we bought some sweet artwork to go all around the room and we leaned it up against a chair and never did anything with it. And I've been promising Betsy I would put them up "soon" or "this week" or "today." But as none of those dates ever seem to come up, I haven't done it. It'll happen. For real.

Thank you,
Matt Beers

This just went from "blog" to "blahg."

I'm sorry for not posting anything for a few days. I've been swamped with all sorts of stuff. Camping, mosquitoes, backyard Nerf wars, writing for Ferocious Quarterly, being a husband and father...

It's pretty time-consuming being me. It literally takes me all day.

I'll do better. I promise.

Thanks,
Matt Beers

A bunch of pictures from Serbia...

Yeah, I decided not to do a bunch of pictures from Serbia. And instead of changing the title of this post, I thought it would be best to write this explanation. I'm lazy and I have an uncontrollable need to make things more complicated. It's a very conflicted life I lead.

Anyway, Betsy is spending the day at a friend's lake cottage. She and her friends are scrap-booking while the husbands stay home with all of the kids. So, today, the kids had Pop Tarts for breakfast and were introduced to Ren and Stimpy. I'm not a bad father, really, I'm not. But it's raining and Betsy always has tons of activities for the kids to do and I think they get burned-out sometimes. So, every now and then I like to let them lay around and be typical American children. If that means they go to bed a little dumber and a little more likely to contract heart disease or diabetes, so be it.

As I write this, the kids are watching Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs. I LOVE this movie. It's weird and hilarious. I recently saw another movie that fit this same description. It's a Belgian-made, stop-motion animation with French dialogue called A Town Called Panic. It's frickin' awesome. Watch this review.


Also, don't forget to order your copy of Ferocious Quarterly. All proceeds go to support... the second issue of Ferocious Quarterly. Just buy it. Buy ten. Give one to your mom.

Thank you,
Matt Beers

I'd try harder, but I don't feel like it would get me anywhere.

So, remember that quarterly publication I mention several months ago? Ferocious Quarterly, it was called. Well, it should be seeing a printing press within a week. Soooo... THAT'S good.

And what's even better is that one of the contributors, Jared Stumpenhorst, has the most amazing art-driven blog that I've ever seen. It is this: LOST 365 Project.

Among with Mr. Stumpenhorst, Ferocious Quarterly will be showcasing some of the most amazing artists working today paired with some people who write stuff. As I am one of the writers, I don't feel that it would be prudent to heap praise upon the collected writers as a group, but I'm sure we're all very passable.

I was gonna list some of the artists, but that would mean jumping back and forth between this post and some e-mails, and that's just not the kind of thing I see myself doing at the moment, so... yeah. I'm gonna go play video games.

Thank you,
Matt Beers