Sweet merciful crap.

Oy vey. Today's comic was almost more trouble than it was worth. I used 3, count 'em, 3 different graphics programs because freaking none of them do everything I needed here well. I suppose I could have gotten away with two, in retrospect... if I got off my lazy arse and transferred my usual palette, thus making life permanently easier. But it will probably be months before I do that and phase out the program I hate, just 'cuz I'm used to it. And you have no idea how many different variations of the fourth panel I went through before settling on this one.
And if you think that reporter looks familiar, he should. He's not on the characters page (he really should be, I suppose), but if you've read the archives, it shouldn't be too hard to guess. Who knew he had a proper job?

Anyway, I'm tired and hungry. Something needs to be done about both. I really must make an effort to start providing myself with life's necessities (y'know, food, sleep, and the like) on something resembling a regular basis. Or I could go psychotic from sleep deprivation and starve to death shortly after. And (this is mainly for Tasha and Scott) I don't want to hear a damn word about my already being psychotic.