Autobiographical comic panel responses.

i didnt entirely finish my six panels, though i did have a theme and a well-placed intention. my theme was going to be cute and cheeky, witty and amusing: 6 panels describing my most pronounced and annoying flaws as qualities that i would never change, that were in fact the best things about me, ranging from my Juggernaut-like self control to my irresolute determination to make the world's best ratatouille (this is not a food blog, dont worry).
yeah its pretty stupid now, in retrospect, now that im actually describing it outside of the confines of my self-saturated mental wonderland.
anyway, the catch is i have no self control and the eggplant always always always refuses to become chunks of creamy earthy silk everyone tells me about. every time i even think about making ratatouille, the eggplants i have simply wither and shrivel into long thin strips of what resembles an especially dark beef jerky, without the teriyaki coating. ive never met an eggplant that wasnt an asshole. a stupid stupid stupid vindictive sadistic globular and glossy asshole.
of course i am being unfair here. it simply cant always be the eggplant's fault. it could be mine, my oven's, my too-curious-for-his-own good roommate's, my cat's, the comcast guy's. it's probably mine. odds are its mine, and i am completely prepared to take responsibility for it. however, i will complain and whine and bitch and bray on and on and on about how unfair it is that the eggplant doesnt turn out right, that it makes me look bad, like i dont know what im doing (pffft) . then i might go onto jcrew.com or shopbop.com for a few hours, regardless of my time constraints.
i guess maybe i summed up the two panels i mentioned earlier, though its painfully brief. i suppose i should mention that my awesome awesome awesome self control lead me to spend more than just time on the aforementioned internet shopping meccas. you can add amazon to that list, too, for the deals you can find on trade paperback and new hardcover comics makes even the most modest and prude girl think twice. also, the ratatouille i spent three intimate hours with in the kitchen last night turned out amazing. i may have lost my eyelashes and a few fingernails along the way, but i consider those small losses in light of the seductive, titillating, climax-inducing, black-leather-wearing, and make-you-blush-thinking-about-it-in-the-library-the-next-day flavors and smells that are currently residing in my fridge, next to my roommate's vestal and Artemis-worthy easy mac.
i have to go now. that ratatouille's calling, and im never one to pass up a morning quickie. reading responses to come later in the day.

David Sedaris "Big Boy"

The thing about David Sedaris is that the events he writes about aren't as common as we think, yet the feelings he goes through are ones we can apply to a vast array of situations, so much so it sometimes feels like you could sue him for breaking into your childhood and stealing your most awkward moments and making them his. Not only his, but telling them in a way funnier fashion than you ever dreamed possible. I've never been foiled by an abandoned turd in the toilet of a friend's house at an Easter party. But damn if I don't know the helpless, dear God why me? feeling of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, being completely innocent and undeserving of the bad-nay, despicable-luck given me by some force greater than myself, the gods themselves.