I’ve been a busy girl.
Inspector Pancakes: Books are almost here! Can’t wait for you to caress them in your sweet sticky hands. More details at InspectorPancakes.com (you can also buy a copy of the ebook and audiobook now)!
Dreadful Sirens: A naked titty pirate comic I’m making with Steve LeCouilliard about the adventures of Anne Bonny and Mary Read. It is wonderful and filthy and Steve’s art is so fucking good, y’all.
Pay what you like to download the entire first chapter!
New World: THE one and only Spike C. Trotman, queen of comic anthologies and Kickstarter is about to launch a new book and I have a story in it with Kory Bing! I’m really excited about this one, and incredibly proud of the comic Kory and I made.
I have a few other projects percolating, AND I even have some official appearances this summer! That’s really fucked up and I don’t even know how to deal with it!
But come see me anyway:
VanCAF: May 23rd & 24th, Vancouver, BC (Canada!) I’ll be hosting a special panel, Inspector Pancakes And His Terrible Friends on Sunday the 24th. I’ll also be a part of the Cloudscape Book Launch Friday the 22nd.
SPX: Sept 19-20th, Bethesda, MD (with Topatoco)
TopatoCon: September 25th – 27th, Northampton, MA
Holy shit that’s a lot of exciting stuff. So uh…thank you for liking me? That’s pretty cool of you. You’re cool.
Seriously though. Holy shit.
If you’re a Kickstarter backer, you’ve been emailed your download code for both. If you didn’t back the Kickstarter…wow, screw you chump.
Just kidding. Please buy my book.
Gorgeous hardcover copies of this atrocity should be available in June!
Good news, cocks and kittens! I’ve written the world’s worst children’s book “Inspector Pancakes Helps the President of France Solve the White Orchid Murders!” You’ll be able to pre-order a really nice version of the book when the Kickstarter starts next month, but for a short while still you can buy the DIY version (and snag a few of my other ridiculously bad ideas while you’re at it)!
on Square Market
Oh yeah, I have a store now. It is an amusing thing to gawk at, even if you (wisely) aren’t purchasing anything.
In other Important Karla News:
I am SUPER-EXCITED to announce the first-ever non-Halloween issue of BOO! from Monkeybrain, the BOO! 2014 HOLIDAY SPECIAL! Yule be screaming (har!) after these stories from KELLY TINDALL, DYLAN TODD, MATTHEW DIGGES, MATT SMIGIEL, KARLA PACHECO, SEAN POPPE, SCOTT FAULKNER, JORDAN WITT, RJ WHITE and MANNING KRULL, with cover art by yours truly! 99 cents for seven terrifying yuletide tales – it goes on sale on CHRISTMAS EVE, HOW SPOOOOOOKY IS THAT??? Not very, really, but consider it a special gift under your digital tree!
My comic is a creepy short about AN EVIL KING and YULE LOGS! Illustrated by the ever charming Sean Poppe.
I’m also working on a filthy, “historical-ish” lady pirate comic book about Mary Read and Anne Bonney with amazing artist Steve LeCouilliard. It is called DREADFUL SIRENS, it is a ton of fun and seriously, no fooling, I’m not fucking joking – it is really, really filthy.
ALSO ALSO, and this is HUGE: I was accepted into Spike Trotman’s latest comic anthology project NEW WORLD. Spike is basically my hero when it comes to self-publishing and she always puts out phenomenal books. I’m overwhelmed, honored, and beyond excited to be a part of it. I’ll be working with the marvelous Kory Bing who has her own Kickstarter running right now, go help her out and get yourself some cool comics!
So anyway…I’m writing comics now! I guess I should have mentioned that earlier. I’ll be appearing at the Vancouver Comic Art Festival in May, and will hopefully have some fine sequential wares to sell you all in person! I should also be running around at a few other cons this year, I will keep ya’ posted.
As you may have figured out, it’s been a pretty amazing year for your ol’ pal Karla. I’m working with incredible people on unbelievable projects (including a few I can’t talk about yet) and I can’t wait to share it all with you. Thank you so much for sticking around.
In the meantime, go buy some of my filth, why dontcha?
“We would like to welcome Jeffrey Michael Docherty to the world! Born 9/14/14, 7lbs 5oz, Mother is feeling trapped and regrets dropping out of grad school, Baby is doing great!”
“Alicia and Dave are pretending they are overjoyed to announce the birth of their beautiful daughter, “Dave refused to pull out when he was drunk.” Baby is doing great!
“Hey everyone, Dakota Rose was born at 3am today! Dad Steve hates the name and asks if Lisa wants their daughter to be a stripper! Mom Lisa says Steve can fuck off after that shit he pulled at the Fourth of July bbq! Baby is doing great!”
“Caryn Smith-Terrance and Paul Mantini begrudgingly welcome Natalie Marie to their previously perfect life and oh shit why didn’t we think this through, even the dogs are an imposition half the time. Christ, Caryn, I told you to end it. Baby is doing great! Unfortunately.”
“We were so blessed to shepherd Love Treefriend Sunchild into the planet at 11:45pm last night. This astral spririt of deliberately and annoyingly obscured gender will change it’s name to Robert and never speak to us again in approximately 14 years! Child of the universe is doing great!”
“Xander Ross Gordon delayed his parent’s divorce by three months this morning! Baby is doing great!”
he [verb] alone, the [circle one: cop/protester] in the [time of day].
the [meteorological condition] [religious ceremony]’ed his [body part].
he [sad verb] as he stared at the [cop/protester].
“just a [racial slur so I’ll have something really powerful to yell when I read this in concert, probably the n-bomb]”
he [sad verb]
he [sad verb]
Jay and I are driving when “Take a Picture” by Filter begins playing on the radio
Me: I have a funny story about that song…see, Ritchie was totally shitfaced on a plane-
Jay: You tell that story every time that song comes on. I know all your stories.
Me: Hey, I can start telling you the stories I haven’t told you, but you’re not gonna like them.
Jay: Why would you tell me stories I don’t want to hear? Make up some fake stories!
“Paralyzer” by Finger Eleven is the next song on the radio
Me: Okay, so one time I DIDN’T sleep with the lead singer of this band…
Jay: Tell me the Filter story again.
Jay texts me a picture of two adorable lesbian cosplayers
Me: Oh wow, that’s fantastic! Side note: I would totally hit that.
Jay: You’d hit so many things on your way to hit that.
Me: It’d be like a pinball game and my cooch would be on TILT!
Jay: Jesus, Karla.
Jay and I are getting ready for our anniversary dinner. I have…had drinks…while showering. I am possibly twerking nudely across a hotel room.
Me: AW YEAH BOOTY GO POP
Jay: Booty is going to a nice restaurant. Do you think booty can behave itself for 30 damn minutes?
Me: BOOTY PROMISES NOTHING
That night I drink all of my beverages out of oversized novelty pails intended for sharing with entire tables of bachelorette parties. Jay eats his steak in silence and thinks about his bad decisions.
I had hip replacement surgery on March 11th, 2013. I wrote the following the day before surgery, but didn’t post it because…well. I didn’t. But here you go, if you’re interested in what goes on in my head when I’m not writing dick jokes for children.
I’m getting a new hip tomorrow. This will be my fourth major surgery in, oh…26 months? I rarely talk about this, but I have a degenerative joint disorder that’s sort of like arthritis and a lot like having quick drying cement in between all your bones. It’s called Multiple Epiphyseal Dysplasia. It’s extremely painful. I don’t like talking about it. Little Karla still has a lot of bitterness about walking like a goddamn duck through most of grade school, until some nice doctors broke both her legs at age 13 (It was a corrective procedure, I didn’t owe them money or anything. Though presumably my parents did after the surgery). Things got a little better after that, but I’ve know since I was 8 years old that multiple hip replacements and probably a wheelchair were in my future. It sucks, it hurts, it’s often humiliating and embarrassing, and I deal with it.
I don’t necessarily deal with it well (see, 36 years of semi-to-outright reckless behavior), but I deal with it.
My left hip has been replaced three times (twice in the past two years), and on Monday doctors will finally swap precision ceramic and metal “science stuff” for the crumpled newspapers and broken light bulbs that are currently making up my right hip. On the outside, it will still look like an outrageus shelf booty…on the inside? I look like an AT-AT walker.
On top of the hip surgeries, I also had a hysterectomy not too long ago. My body finally realized I should have been eaten by wolves long ago, and decided to hit the self-destruct button on my uterus for the good of the herd. Not having children was the choice I probably would have made – because children are selfish, vile little buckets of hate and nastiness and I don’t like them – but it’s never fun having your decisions made for you.
Once again, I dealt with it.
In the days and weeks leading up to surgery you are repeatedly warned about all the complications that “probably-won’t-but-we’re-legally-obligated-to-tell-you-in-graphic-horrifying-detail-MIGHT occur.” I know them by heart now: bleeding, infection, death, nerve damage, paralysis, coma, brain damage…I have a stack of papers on file with the hospital that can be summarized “Pull the plug.” If I need a feeding tube, pull the plug. Need a respirator, pull the plug. Taking a nap and look pretty comfortable…pull the plug. My greatest fear is getting trapped in this shitty, broken down body.
The closest I’ll ever come to knowing how an athlete feels before a big game (for pretty fucking obvious reasons) is in the few days before a surgery. I start shutting the outside world down. I crawl into my head and methodically close off my emotions, my fear. The worry the surgery will go wrong or fail (it happened two years ago, and I spent a year in pain before they fixed it), that a scalpel will slip…it’s so overwhelming that I HAVE to shut it all down. I have to seal the scared part of me away and look straight ahead, unwavering.
I am a professional. I will deal with this.
There’s not a lot of room for the people who love me during this time. I’m vulnerable and raw and nervy. I make a lot of truly horrifying jokes, but other than that, I’m silent. I’ve got my game face on. I don’t have room for you in my head right now. I love you, but I’m busy dealing with this.
I am a machine. I will deal with this.
I prioritize. I viciously slash what has to be done now and what can wait. I delegate housecleaning and dog walking and I pay all the bills and I grocery shop for nourishing, easy to prepare foods that won’t be too much trouble for Jay to fix, and I pack my hospital bag, and I wash myself with antiseptic soap twice daily as ordered by my doctor and I masturbate until I run out of batteries (because I won’t get a chance to for a while), and I do laundry and load books I’ll never read on my Kindle, and I delete all my porn in case I die.
I am selfish and do what I want. I eat non-stop and play video games and pop an extra vicodin to make the video games more fun.
I love you, but I have to deal with this.
Fingers crossed (and legs very much not) it will go okay tomorrow. But if it doesn’t…We’ll deal with it
Note: The surgery did not go well. When I woke up after the surgery I was informed my leg had been broken during the procedure. I spent 36 hours waiting for them to redo the replacement, which required five hours of surgery, four units of blood, and a week recovering in the hospital.
I dealt with it.
I’m fine now.
Update to the Update:
I am participating in my first Triathlon on August 9th, 2014. I dealt the FUCK out of this year.
It’ll be good to get my game face on for real.
One of the lesser known drawbacks of living with me* is how the INSTANT I begin any sort of work out program, I begin flexing at Jay. Constantly.
“Pass the salt?”
I grab the salt like it’s a barbell and FLEX my massive biceps
“Now could you clean up all the salt?”
I leap into a body building pose, popping my guns as I point at the salt all over the floor
“Goddamnit Karla, you’ve gone to the gym ONCE”
“And now YOU’RE going to the GUNSHOW!”
We are driving around in the car, listening to the radio
“I went swimming yesterday.”
“Good for you.”
“…Hmph. This is a stupid song. I’m…just gonna change the station.”
I look Jay straight in the eye as I stretch my arm towards the radio…and then…FLEX
“HOLY SHIT! Keep your eyes on the road!”
“YOU NEVER WANT TO GO TO MY GUNSHOW!”
Jay finally figures out it’s better to go to the damn gunshow
“Here’s your coffee.”
“OH MY GOD, LOOK AT THOSE GUNS!”
I know he’s patronizing me, but I’m taking it. FLEX!