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breeden
ursulav

Print Sales

In a fit of organizational madness--and it's not great to draw while printing, because it slows the computer down--I went through December and November's print sales and calced them out. This is probably of no interest to anybody but me, but I did learn some interesting stuff. (Midwest Furfest is not included in this calculation, because my record keeping there sucked ass, and I still have to go through it so I know how much money to fling at the tax dudes.) This is mostly for me, but other artists, and those of you following my career closely to see when the optimal moment to kill me and make the value of those originals jump might also be interested.
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breeden
ursulav

Print Sales

In a fit of organizational madness–and it’s not great to draw while printing, because it slows the computer down–I went through December and November’s print sales and calced them out. This is probably of no interest to anybody but me, but I did learn some interesting stuff. (Midwest Furfest is not included in this calculation, because my record keeping there sucked ass, and I still have to go through it so I know how much money to fling at the tax dudes.) This is mostly for me, but other artists, and those of you following my career closely to see when the optimal moment to kill me and make the value of those originals jump might also be interested.

Read the rest of this entry »Collapse )

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.


breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

Random quick little piece for a Christmas present for someone, which I have either screwed up badly (smeared ink on the caption) and must discard, or which I can mat cleverly and give as a Christmas present. Since I will of course admit my folly when giving the gift, I feel no qualms about admitting it here, since if it can't be salvaged, they'll get something else and never know the difference.

http://yerf.com/vernursu/attackegg.jpg

Edit: Muahaha! Clever matting saves the day...

breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

Random quick little piece for a Christmas present for someone, which I have either screwed up badly (smeared ink on the caption) and must discard, or which I can mat cleverly and give as a Christmas present. Since I will of course admit my folly when giving the gift, I feel no qualms about admitting it here, since if it can’t be salvaged, they’ll get something else and never know the difference.

http://yerf.com/vernursu/attackegg.jpg

Edit: Muahaha! Clever matting saves the day…

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.


breeden
ursulav

Grim Tidings

It never fails to astonish me that I have come to a point in my life where stuff that big companies somewhere do can actually have a Direct And Personal Effect On My Continued Existence.

Case in point, EA is trying to buy stock in Ubisoft, namely about 20%. Ubisoft, until it hears differently, according to their press release on Reuters, is considering this a hostile takeover attempt and will be digging in their heels and fighting accordingly, and may the corporate gods be with them.

James works at a company owned by Ubisoft. Ubisoft is the reason I have health insurance, have gotten my teeth fixed, and can even think about things like taking time off to pursue shows and whatnot. I quite like Ubisoft.

For those who have no idea what the heck this means, it's pretty much the gaming industry equivalent of having a nice job where they treated you right, gave you great benefits, only asked for crunch time at the ends of projects and always comped you the time afterwards--and waking up one morning to discover Wal-mart trying to buy you out. EA has a reputation for engaging in the industry equivalent of sweatshop labor, when they don't just strip out the studio, ship people to California, and sell the remains outright.

The rats aren't at the point of jumping ship, by any means, and it may blow over completely and turn out to be nothing, but somebody just yelled "ICEBERG!" and now, throughout the hold, little pink ears and little pointy whiskers are pricking up.

breeden
ursulav

Grim Tidings

It never fails to astonish me that I have come to a point in my life where stuff that big companies somewhere do can actually have a Direct And Personal Effect On My Continued Existence.

Case in point, EA is trying to buy stock in Ubisoft, namely about 20%. Ubisoft, until it hears differently, according to their press release on Reuters, is considering this a hostile takeover attempt and will be digging in their heels and fighting accordingly, and may the corporate gods be with them.

James works at a company owned by Ubisoft. Ubisoft is the reason I have health insurance, have gotten my teeth fixed, and can even think about things like taking time off to pursue shows and whatnot. I quite like Ubisoft.

For those who have no idea what the heck this means, it’s pretty much the gaming industry equivalent of having a nice job where they treated you right, gave you great benefits, only asked for crunch time at the ends of projects and always comped you the time afterwards–and waking up one morning to discover Wal-mart trying to buy you out. EA has a reputation for engaging in the industry equivalent of sweatshop labor, when they don’t just strip out the studio, ship people to California, and sell the remains outright.

The rats aren’t at the point of jumping ship, by any means, and it may blow over completely and turn out to be nothing, but somebody just yelled “ICEBERG!” and now, throughout the hold, little pink ears and little pointy whiskers are pricking up.

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.


breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

Streeeetchy.

My father, who is just unbelievably cool, sent us an inversion table for Christmas.

It's a rack. You strap your ankles in, hang upside down on it, and it stretches your back muscles out, so they feel better if they're sore.

I know, it sounds like some kind of arcane torture device, but I used theirs a few times while we lived in Arizona, and it worked pretty well. My father swears by it, and since I inherited the bad back from him...well, I'll try using it regularly for awhile, and see how it goes. (My back has actually been fine, although I haven't been to the chiropractor since last month, what with the holidays and all, but it's presumably only a matter of time until it goes foul again, being sort of sensitive and granted my Slouch Of Doom.)

Having assembled the device, James and I eyed it for a few minutes warily.

"You want to go first?" he asked. I looked at him. He looked at me. We both looked at the rack.

"Uhhh..." I said (Translation: "Hell, no, but say something chivalrous so that I don't have to admit that I'm afraid a lug nut somewhere isn't lugged and it will snap shut like an upside-down bear trap.")

"Well, I gues I'm the one with disability insurance," he said. (James speaks fluent Ursula) We strapped him in and inverted him somewhat, then...um...reverted? Deverted? Just verted?

"Cool," he said dizzily.

And it is, indeed, cool.

breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

Streeeetchy.

My father, who is just unbelievably cool, sent us an inversion table for Christmas.

It’s a rack. You strap your ankles in, hang upside down on it, and it stretches your back muscles out, so they feel better if they’re sore.

I know, it sounds like some kind of arcane torture device, but I used theirs a few times while we lived in Arizona, and it worked pretty well. My father swears by it, and since I inherited the bad back from him…well, I’ll try using it regularly for awhile, and see how it goes. (My back has actually been fine, although I haven’t been to the chiropractor since last month, what with the holidays and all, but it’s presumably only a matter of time until it goes foul again, being sort of sensitive and granted my Slouch Of Doom.)

Having assembled the device, James and I eyed it for a few minutes warily.

“You want to go first?” he asked. I looked at him. He looked at me. We both looked at the rack.

“Uhhh…” I said (Translation: “Hell, no, but say something chivalrous so that I don’t have to admit that I’m afraid a lug nut somewhere isn’t lugged and it will snap shut like an upside-down bear trap.”)

“Well, I gues I’m the one with disability insurance,” he said. (James speaks fluent Ursula) We strapped him in and inverted him somewhat, then…um…reverted? Deverted? Just verted?

“Cool,” he said dizzily.

And it is, indeed, cool.

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.