Dream I had the other night.
Author Archives: Poorly Drawn Bees
Pinky swear.
I’m helpful.
Always check before you dive!
Deck Tech: Buncha Budget Bees.
Ever wished you could unleash the bees in Magic? Don’t have a million dollars? This one’s for you. ❤
https://tappedout.net/mtg-decks/buncha-budget-bees/
To commemorate I’ve created the below piece. It was created with a . . . *Checks* . . . Sharpie using an insurance renewal statement as my canvas.
I’m lost.
I question the existence of trees.
I often find myself wondering if trees really exist or not. I have often walked up to them and yelled right at them. I ask them “DO YOU EXIST OR NOT!?” They never answer . . .
I touch them to see if there are there. I can feel them, but can they feel me? Could I say that since they don’t think, therefore they aren’t?
Life’s hard when Google Maps is down.
This is me.
🎺- This is me as I toot my own horn. It’s a great day to be me!
🏃- This is me going for a run down the street. Still tooting my own horn!
👪- This is me visiting the fam. Not my fam but a fam all the same.
🎶- This is me playing my song on the horn. Toot toot!
😨- This is them as they apparently don’t like my song I guess?
😖- This is the child as their ribcage exits their body in despair. My melody is powerful!
🚕- This is me hailing a cab cause I’m too cheap for 911.
🚃- This is me as I pay for transit instead cause I’m too cheap for the cab.
😤- This is the parents for some reason I paid for the transit what’s their problem?
👫- This is them nowadays. Why isn’t the child there?
I’m sorry I’m just too proud of this shitpost and also I may build this deck sans candelabras now?
Oh, hello there.
It was a rather ordinary day at work. Another day banging away at the keyboard to hack away fruitlessly at a constantly growing mountain of data to enter.
I heard a buzzing. Faint at first, it became louder and closer until it was like a bee in my ear. This made sense because there was a bee in my ear.
“Goddammit Frank. What do you want now?” I asked followed by an exasperated sigh through my nose.
“I need your help Tyler! I’m desperate!” This question was topped off by the visual of Frank buzzing around erratically a foot in front of my face while producing rainbow sparkles and all sorts of similar garbage.
“Alright, what can I help you with this time?”
“I really really really really need your help this time! I need your help so bad I don’t know what . . . “
“I already said I’d help, please stop.”
” . . . I don’t know what I’m going to do I’m freaking out whatever will I do I can’t deal with this please . . . “
“STOP!” I demanded. I was weary of this before it even began, words couldn’t describe how annoyed I was now. “What do you need?”
Frank took a deep breath.
“I’m going to Olive Garden tonight and I’m not sure how much I should tip?”
Ho.
Ly.
Shit.
This was a complete waste of time. Like always. I buried my forehead in one hand and sighed again.
“I dunno. General rule of thumb is fifteen percent I guess. Adjust as needed.”
With an exuberant thanks Frank poofed away in a puff of smoke.
And that’s why this report was late. I absolutely swear that’s the case. Please don’t fire me.
I am so good at Splatoon 2. Someday I’ll even play the game proper!
There’s a perfectly good explanation for this.
In the meantime don’t worry about it a’ight?
Drawn on moleskin paper with a ballpoint (I think?) pen.
