So much heatness for taco day

Summer has truly arrived, and as our guest comic artists have suggested: IT IS HOT! All 98 degrees HOT!

Todays comic brought to you by Rachel, Julie and Roberta

Sorry girls for the horrifying toenail :(

Happy hour started 20 minutes late. Really.

Guesting it up on this VERY HOT SUMMER day would be the awesome duo:

The Jill and The Roberta.

Discussing the dramatic wind scenes in film, Obama would need a wig to pull it off. Thus the comedy above.

HAPPY DIVERSITY DAY; yo.

Sorry to Brain who didn't have Starbucks.

The bell kept ringing all hour.

So we got a new bell for happy hour. And Ben decided to ring it. For an hour.

Todays comic by calligraphy artist Brian and resident bell ringer Ben.

Translation:

First Square:

I TRAINED ALL MY LIFE FOR THIS RACE

Why are my legs so small?

Second Square:

WHY IS HE MAKING SUCH A BIG DEAL?

IM GONNA WIN!

Third Square:

CONGRATULATIONS! YOU WON A CAN OF SOUP

Crudely drawn soulless stick figures FTW!

Firebird

By Jessy Katz

Spontaneous combustion must be the kind of death dreamed up for those guilty of animal cruelty, particularly those of the avian variety. A revenge tactic the victims’ loved ones and whatever Powers That Be have settled on- during their infrequent board meetings held where oxygen is thin. Why did you think birds take such pains to fly out of earshot (although often defeating the purpose as their emotions tend to outweigh the need for volume control)?

To properly repent, they decreed, you had to experience all aspects of living as a hunted bird, not just the pain but also the necessity of flight. This would allow you to taste the bittersweet lifestyle of those you had tried to rub out, and possibly feel a glimmer of guilt for the bloodshed, but only after it would be too late. And so, thirsty for irony, your fragile being takes center stage in this scenario the birds have so carefully sculpted. There you are, healthy, maybe happy, but with an unfortunate hatred for things with wings.

You are sitting in your favorite loveseat, the one near the window so when you sit you can see the dust rising from the cushions and dancing like stardust in the afternoon sunbeams. You pat the dog, wonder if he needs to go for a walk, but you really should finish the library book waiting in your lap so you decide against it.

Suddenly the dog takes off sprinting down the hall and slips on the kitchen floor you just waxed that very morning as the book’s plastic covering fuses to your disintegrating legs as you hold up melting tendons to the spaces your eyes used to occupy as you squawk and flap your arms and your skin flakes and fizzles like singed feathers and for a second you are a Firebird. Trying to soar.

Ross and his funniness

While Ross was doing the digging in the garden, Carson asked if he wanted to put a quote on the new sails. The following conversation ensued.

The AMAZING Amy was our guest comic artist of the day.

Chickens people.

Twenty Sent Wings

Today the internets did not work, but we still managed to bring in the peeps for Happy Hour! Internets are now provided by then wireless network and the letter Q.

Today's comic by Max and Elena