Stephan Pastis's Blog, page 34

The Things I Do for Entertainment, or Why You Should Always Wear Your Cal Shirt

My eleven-year-old son goes to school with twins, Zach and Max.  They fear me.

I’m not sure when the tradition started, but when I see them, I chase them, as though I’m going to beat them up.  I don’t know why they think that.  Perhaps it was due to the few times I caught them and beat them up.   I’ve pushed them down, thrown them into the mud, sat on top of them and pulled their hair.

Now before you judge me because I weigh three times what they do, consider this:  There are two of them.

Consider

Meet Me and Be Oh So Disappointed

At long last, I have my schedule for this year’s Comic-Con, taking place this July 23 – 26 in San Diego, California.

I will be on two panels.  The first is this one on Friday, July 24:

Friday, 4:00 – 5:00 pm Spotlight on Stephan Pastis: Stephan Pastis (Pearls Before Swine) shares his unlikely tale of how he went from being a full-time lawyer to one of the most popular syndicated cartoonists in newspapers today, including a rundown of some his most popular strips, and some that weren’t so popular. 

A Free Book Report for Cheating Students Everywhere Who Would Otherwise Be Forced to Trudge Through “Romeo and Juliet”

I just read “Romeo and Juliet.”   I had not read it since ninth grade.  I had not read it since being taught it by the same English teacher who would somehow turn me off to all literature for the next 25 years.

I remembered being taught it was a tragedy.

It is not.

I will summarize.

Romeo is in love with a girl.  It is not Juliet.  It is a girl  named Rosaline.  He thinks Rosaline is meant to be his eternal love.

But Rosaline does not love him.

He wants to die.

He hears Rosaline will be at a party.  He

It is Dancing That I Fear

I was the best man at my cousin Louis’ wedding last summer.

Upon their arrival at the reception, the bride and groom began to spontaneously dance.  This was before the dinner.  This was tragic.

You see, I fear dancing like a normal person fears swimming with piranha.

I fear dancing because I am not good at dancing.  My dancing scares children.

So I had a plan.

When dancing began after dinner, I would disappear.  The reception was being held in the backyard of a large mansion and I was going to go ins

An Entertainment News Scoop That You Read Here First

Three weeks ago, I went to a taping of The Tonight Show with Jay Leno.

I sat in the third row.

Before the show, the producer told everyone in the first three rows that when Jay walked out we needed to rush the stage and high-five Jay.  And we had to be enthusiastic about it.

I could not do it.  I could not act excited just because someone wanted me to act excited.  I would make a bad trained seal.

So when Jay came out, everyone from the first three rows rushed forward and high-fived him.

Except for m

Why I Don’t Have Time To Do a Longer Blog Post Today

Spent twenty minutes in the shower this morning pressing my face into the steamed glass trying to mimic the Shroud of Turin.

Attack of the Cheesewoman

My wife Staci made me go to a wedding last weekend.

Staci makes me go to everything.

If it weren’t for her, I’d be happy.  Like Howard Hughes, I’d be high on morphine rocking back and forth in the closet of a Las Vegas hotel room, but I’d be happy.

My resentment is what makes me buy her birthday cakes shaped like Menorahs with “to Stan” written across the top.

Then a family wedding rolls around, and she gets her vengeance.  She makes me attend.

The weddings themselves are survivable.  Survivable beca

Video Killed the Cartooning Star

Pearls is syndicated by United Feature Syndicate. Rather than ask them to help me promote my next book, I traveled to Kansas City to visit my syndicate’s rival, Universal Press Syndicate, and tried to get THEM to endorse my book.

They Call Me Mr. Pastis

My last name is pronounced “PASStiss.” It’s Greek. I don’t really care how people pronounce it, but most people who say it for the first time give it a French twist:   “pahSTEES.”

It’s not a problem, because few strangers try to pronounce my last name on a day-to-day basis.

Except my eternal nemesis:

The Safeway clerk.

For reasons unknown, someone at my grocery store has decided that when the clerk hands me my receipt, they should glance at the name on my Safeway card, and say, “Thank you, Mr. Pa

A Confession That Does Not Cast Me in a Flattering Light

I fill out every contest form I can find.

I’m talking about the little index-card-size forms you see in magazines, at grocery store checkout stands, in gyms, at hotels, etc.  You enter for a chance to win a vacation, a car, spa treatments, money, etc.

Of course, no one ever wins these contests.  The only reason companies have you fill them out at all is so that they can put you on a junk mailing list that you will then stay on until long after you are dead.

You may say to yourself, why would somebo