HI THERE, WELCOME TO MY INTERNET.

The trap I set for you

2012-02-09T09:36:00.000-05:00

seems to have caught my leg instead.

Bonus: In a sweater poorly knit!
Bonus-er: Brother, Sister!

Bonus P.S. I don't care if you don't think that's cool, I don't think you're cool.

Brother, Sister by mewithoutYou

Meetings

2011-11-09T14:24:00.000-05:00

Early exciting ones.

Meetings

2011-10-21T14:27:00.000-04:00

Fall

2011-10-12T18:01:00.000-04:00

It makes me think of swings.

Hurr hur hurrr

FU, CRIME.

2011-10-01T17:44:00.000-04:00

Folks of all ages in my 'hood are assembling a neighborhood watch because they're tired of coming home to find their houses emptied by naughty, selfish jerks.

Internet, if your sad, sorry little neighborhood doesn't have a neighborhood watch and crime has been telling you FU, you should get together with your neighbors and tell crime to FU instead. Only the U would be crime. Otherwise you'd be encouraging crime to continue Fing you, and that defeats the purpose entirely. So make a neighborhood watch and don't get F'ed. I joined up and am helping out my neighborhood watch by coloring on paper with smellymarkers.

I kid. I'm designing badass shit because badass shit thwarts the tits off of crime and then crime goes to jail titless.
- Of course then it meets other like-minded criminals that it hooks up with after it's titless release from the clink and commits more crime but then the neighborhood watch TATTLES ON THAT SHIT AGAIN only HARDER.

Our neighborhood mascot/logo/giant thing that flies around like it owns the place and makes noise in the trees is an Owl. (See that? My neighborhood was way badass long before Urban Outfitters discovered deciduous forests.) Only it's cute and friendly and is all "welcome to my branch, dudes!"
So I made a Cutty-Sark drinkin' dad owl that doesn't like what it sees going on over there on that fucking branch and horks up vole pellets at 65 miles per hour. AT CRIME.

I'm kidding again. I just made this and it's grumpycute:

Here's what it will look like when we all live in a crime-free Photoshop:

And we're printing shirts! (We all need new shirts since every last one of ours have been stolen by asshole criminals.)

If you'd like to pretend that you live here and only wear shirts that are classy colors - or if you think neighborhood watches are ironic and can't get enough of that shit - I know a guy that knows a guy. We can make this happen.

More to come. We're putting together an event with the Fire Department in November. That means we're official.

...Officially telling crime to F itself. OHHHH

Omelette, the naughty no-nos

2011-09-17T21:26:00.000-04:00

Meetings

2011-09-13T17:37:00.001-04:00

It's a bird-thing. It looks like a boy drew it.

Let's pretend: grown-up manbabies

2011-09-12T20:48:00.000-04:00

Sylvester Stallone, Nicholas Cage and Daniel Craig roll around for a clammy 45 minutes and make a glowing bundle of tax deduction that blossoms into a Bud Ice drinking methflower with an unfortunate case of ears growin' all up out the cheek.

Nailed iiit.

Bomb pop

2011-09-10T16:52:00.001-04:00

Well, there you have it.

Meetings

2011-08-25T14:15:00.000-04:00

Meetings

2011-07-26T10:30:00.000-04:00

Two doodles and one dog

2011-07-14T16:40:00.000-04:00

July 4th Extravaganza

2011-06-30T21:10:00.000-04:00

A miniature fair is in town. I've already had a funnel cake and a bomb pop.

I have no more updates at this time.

Sketchbook Boneyard

2011-06-15T20:09:00.001-04:00

Some doodles of some folks, a skullyhead and a yellyface. Fascinating.

RIP, Tammy Tickles and the Magic Mason Jar

2011-06-09T00:04:00.001-04:00

Tammy Tickles totally bit it today.

Please don't go thinking I had her living the plain life. This is a photo of her from when we first met. Her house looks completely different now - designer all the way. There were sticks to hang upside-down from, some weird spiny balls from a sweetgum tree to make her prey realize they were in THE dungeon, some dirt, some pebbles, a whole lot of messy assweb and innumerable corpses. Maybe a few souls too, depending on your beliefs or whatever (but really, nobody cares about those anyhow.)

The last time I saw her alive (yesterday, cause I'm a peeker) she was hanging upside down from the top of the jar, like she ~~does~~ did, being spidery. Today, she had fallen from her weird hangy-upside-downy spot and landed flat on her creepy back - only not on the ground. She fell on one of the "branches" in the jar. Over the top, why not.

I guess what I'm trying to say is - it was pretty dramatic, so I'm going to cake my eyes with eyeliner and stare into the flame of a black candle until the pain stops.

I'm kidding because I think I'm hilarious. Jokes are so funny!

But really though I kept this horror show for nine months and it freaked me out daily. AND she did die flat on her back splayed out on the limb of one of her sticks, and it was super-duper dramatic. What the hell.

Long story short, I was kind of guilted (by myself) into our relationship after I caught her. I was washing off my porch and a family of big black assfats poured out of the stairs leading up to it. My extra-fancy dog suns her refined self on those stairs, so naturally I decimated the herd and kept the largest as an example.
But then, the guilt. I mean I killed everyone it knew AND I was keeping it in a barren-ass jar. I might as well have made it walk to Oklahoma while I rode comfortably behind it, making fun of it's language while it watched me shoot buffalo for kicks. So I built it a cute "I'm sorry about killing your whole family" house. Actually, I built it two, because any spider living under my roof is going to be a fancy spider. So it's houses were seasonally-themed, beeeecause the seasons are, too. Right?

I fed her bugs (stinkbugs were her least favorite) and watered her dirt. I gave her a name. A new lease on life. We were headed for the stars, Tammy and I.

I kid.
One of us was bound to die and we both knew it.

Imagine trying to feed one of these things.
Ok, now imagine it's favorite place in the whole wide world is, oh, the underside of the lid of it's magic mason jar.

I'm lucky to be alive and I'm glad you dead, Tammy.
I glad you dead.

Jordan's Git-fiddle

2011-06-05T15:48:00.001-04:00

A while back my pal Jordan left me with his classical guitar to make it even more classy. Here's what that looked like:

Naked lady. I hadn't sanded a guitar before this project. It didn't have layers upon layers of finish, so everything came off within an hour or two of light hand sanding.

Materials shot. OMG artists are sooo artsy.

Taped up. Guess how easy cutting hillbilly stars out of masking tape was.

Go on. Guess.

First coat of stain mixed with a pinch of gold ink (for sparkles' sake)

Grainy. I was worried about this junk seeping under the painter's tape - so I burnished the hell out of it (the tape) with a bone folder before putting down the first coat.

-Then I worried about ripping up the wood when it was time to take that jive off.

(None of these painful things happened – miracles and wishes and stuff.)

Coat No.2.

Coat No.3 and an adorable red to gold fade on the headstock.

Detail some rotting, overpainted bead board on the back of the house.

Look at how thick I slathered that stain on there. What's even wrong with me.

Tape removal. Grinding my teeth the whole time hoping I wouldn't catch the grain and rip up a wood hangnail. Prior to peeling this stuff off I ran the dull side of an Xacto blade along the edge of all of the tape to break whatever seal there might have been there. Only two or three of the star points suffered any damage. Not that it mattered. I scratched the whole thing up on purpose, anyhow. HOOO WEE.

Looking like one of Garth Brooks' shirts from the early 90's.

And then I sanded it some more. I was going for that roughed-up/worn-in saddle kind of a look. You know, like Donatella Versace's face.

Fancy.

Gold wash, because that's how I roll.

A few delicious coats of sealant and there you have it.

Heritage, not hate, y'all.

A message to you, dear crafter:

If you'd care to do anything remotely close to this - make sure you begin preparing the wood by first killing any pets you may have in your house, especially pets that follow you around demanding snugs and loves and hugs and such.

It's a trap. Don't give in. Kill it.

Kill it or you'll end up hunched over your project for hours, shining every light you have in your house on your freshly laid stain, pulling out wiry undercoat fur with your beloved eyebrow tweezers. Then they're ruined. They're ruined and you've got jet-black narwhals trying to swim out of the skin between your eyeballs.

Heed my advice.

Tribeca Poetry Review 2010 Annual

2011-06-05T13:33:00.000-04:00

It lives!

You can own that jive on Amazon. If you're the poemy-writey sort and would like to submit your work to folks who give a dang about your feelings and observations, send your unfathomable deepness to the Tribeca Poetry Review and they will judge you (kindly).

Here's another photo with a beef pencil that's got some gunky chunklets on it:

Fancy.

Meetings.

2011-06-01T18:56:00.000-04:00

It wasn't even a bad one. Sometimes these things just happen, you know?

Two very important things II

2011-05-01T20:12:00.000-04:00

The this:

And the this:

CELEBRATE IT.

Meetings.

2011-04-14T18:36:00.000-04:00

There was free juice. Oh, and Renaissance festival tickets. eeeyes.

HOLYCRAP YOU GUYS

2011-03-05T20:01:00.006-05:00

The most fantastic guy on the face of the effin' globe is gettin' hitched.

His name is not Jessica. It's Michael.
If you've known me in any capacity for over five hours you'd recognize him as "Wayne".
I cluck about him all the time. None of that chatter is flattering, only half of it is marginally legal and not one bit of it is moral or decent. He's largely responsible for much of my desensitization, vocabulary (four letter words, fancy c-c-c-combos) and sophomoric caca humor.

He's tough to describe, but I'm going to go ahead and say he's something like Beavis and Butthead getting thrown into the trunk of Todd's car. It's a tight fit and Todd drives over a lot of crap to jostle them around. Oops, they made a miracle baby. But how?

It's a miracle, silly. You know, like a fact, only real-er.

That miracle baby grows up and moves to sunny "The Hills Have Eyes" and makes a baby with Papa Jupiter. (No miracle. Elbow grease.) (OH. And this is after it's not a baby anymore, because that would have grown up to be like, a totally different guy altogether and/or the extra-wrong kind of wrong that Mike likes to joke about because he is horrible always.) That baby grows up going to the GWAR playground, swinging on the intestine & femur swing and ...whatever it is a mutant jerkbaby would do on the giant board-stiff worm-eating-a-human-being teeter-totter.

He grows up some more and goes to see SLAYER, has about 4,000 babies in his pants that never have the chance to grow to adulthood, grew part (3/8) of a beard and the rest is illegal so I can't tell you about it.

Just kidding.
He grew up in Peachtree City, Georgia and drove a golf cart around in public.

They're a cute couple. Here's a picture of them being Christmas jerks. I don't know who shot it, but if I did I would give them credit for the photo and for putting up with these raging a-holes for however (probably forever) long it took.

Technically Jessica makes up about one-hundred and ninety-six percent of the cute.
Sadly, if when they have babies (Elbow grease, Slayer) the offspring are likely to inherit more of Mike's traits and end up resembling the sweetiepies from the 1986 classic, "Critters".

Pottygoblins.

Tipping scales / turning tables

2010-12-15T15:23:00.010-05:00

No, this isn't about eating too many cookies - and if I happen to liken my mother to an elephant in this post, it's not because she's a 4.5 ton mud-eater, don't be weird.
It's because she never forgets anything, and that's what old people like her say about elephants.

I'm kidding. I am fortunate to have a very young mother.

Please don't tell her I said that, it will ruin EVERYTHING.

She's not "barfy show on MTV / poor decisions - deal with it" young, she's more like, "I have a facebook but still don't fully understand e-mail" young. She's had three kids, all of which have thus far lived to adulthood. I'm her only daughter, and the middle child at that. Torment, I know.
I would imagine that under normal circumstances one would assume that she would treat me like a pretty, pretty princess. Rather. Ever since I tiptoed over 25 some years ago my mother has reminded me at every opportunity that I am now on the 30 side of my 20's. What is wrong with this woman.

WHO DOES THAT.

Her 51st birthday was just a few days ago.

That's on the internet for all the world (my 3 friends) to see. Revenge is mine.

I made her a card because she is so very dear to me / I went to art school and learned how to be a jerk.

This is the front.

And this would be the innybits.

In your face, Mumma.
In your FAAAAAAACE!

Listen people, If you're out there and have a mommy that's been poking at you about being on the X side of Y and she's fast approaching the N side of THE F'ING GRAVE, do let me know. I can tailor this puppy to fit your agonizing/personal needs, after all, I know your pain.

PS/FYI: I'm not actually emotionally poisoned as a result of my mother's fondness for late-stage child abuse
and there ain't no grave gonna hold that woman's body down.
I love my mommy.

They Hated Each Other

2010-12-08T18:43:00.003-05:00

This little nipper was tons-o funs-o.

Super-talented semi-cougy Mindy took the fine n' fancy photo of these fellas and asked me to gunk it up with a bunch of words and numbers. I did, and there you have it. Printable sunshine.

Jared Logan and Dan St. Germain have a show at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre in NYC about famous folks that ...well, hated each other. Perhaps you should go and see it if you're in the area. It's five bucks, not ten.

I just put $10 down to make it look classy.

Pre 'ween treats

2010-10-21T10:35:00.002-04:00

OF COURSE I MADE YOU A FALL MIXTAPE.

In fact I made you three, and they're brimming with poppery half-pouts, trudgy drudgies, sneaky creepers and valuable-minutes-of-your-lives thieves.
It's unlikely that they'll influence you to wash cars, eat ice cream or play in your neighbor's sprinkler. Rather, you may be moved to belt a bottle of bourbon, rake up the leaves and then abandon the job halfway through to sit in the pile as they blow about your yard again.

That is - unless you're in New York. (I like to pick on you) Nooooo yards. Booooo.

You'll have to go to a "themed" bar for like, "the experience".

Enjoy!

download
Crackle Cracklepop

download
Kiss Kiss

download
Hush n Shush

Oh come on.
Did you really have to ask?
OF COURSE I made thems fancy arts into wallpapers for your computers to download so you can stare at them all day long with your eyeballs that look at stuff!
Don't be scared, these links bring you to choose-your-desktop-sizeville.

Hush n Shush
desktop scenery

Kiss Kiss
desktop scenery

Geez Louise could this day possibly get any better?

Nope. That's all you get, greedy.

Tammy Tickles and the Magic Mason Jar

2010-10-19T14:00:00.003-04:00

Dear internet,
Yesterday I caught a spider.

Now I'm teaching her special tricks, like how to hug and love.
Wish me luck.

xo sweet dreams

Look what I found / odds n' ends

2010-10-01T20:09:00.014-04:00

A long lost hot dog scribble. Ohhhhh- you care!

Yes you do, so here's some more stuff for you to care about since you care so much about... it. I dug up this ol' slop while rummaging around in the bart cave. Girly muck. Fascinating, I know.

Here,
a goobery gloopery drawing of some fella:

Aaaand this:

It's an old doodlemat. See, sometimes I put a piece of mat board down on my desk because because I said because and this is the kind of thing that happens. It's a really really big one-sheet notepad of sorts. I don't know what it means, all I know is I'm a literary genius. Because.

I FOUND THIS, TOO I FOUND THIS, TOO:

My Nana drew that on a box* of scarves she sent to me.

*When I received the box it read: "Happy Birthday Mom" in thick black Sharpie - but also had these little hieroglyphics in fine-point sharpie and ball point pen. I was so confused - but then I got it. Nana recycles and re-personalizes.

Here, might as well show you the whole thing while you're caring so much and all.

huntngather addendum

2010-09-24T13:11:00.004-04:00

Internet, I am tickled to teardrops to announce that huntngather now has a domain name that matches the site name. Big big big news, I know.

Go on 'n give it a whirl because I told you to.

You don't have to tell anybody that you did it because I told you to, you can tell 'em you did it because you wanted to. You don't even have to tell them that I told you to tell them you did it because you wanted to. It will be our little secret. Shhh. Shhhhh...
That way - when you tell those anybodys to give it a whirl they'll think that you "just kind of know about these sorts of things, you know?"
It will make you feel sparkly. Here you go:

huntngather.com

I suppose I should warn you that you probably won't be seeing anything like this*:

*unless it's got a caption beneath it that reads something like "ha ha ha, see what I did there you guys?
I made a joke and it was really really funny."

However, you will have a spattering of this to deal with:

Yoko Ono: "Voice Piece for Soprano & Wish Tree"

So prepare yourself.

huntngather

2010-09-04T13:53:00.004-04:00

Dear all of you makey-makey people with a tired ol' facebook,

My pal Tara is making a "social network" for creative folks of all kinds and wants you to go to there. She's been begging me to tell you all about it because of the profound influence I have over every single one of you.

So do.

take me to this magical place

It's got hippie food news, articles, interviews, music stuff, a cute brown logo, art bung, comedian blabber, nonsense and the like. Join up, share stuff, get involved, inspire and be inspired by that inspirational jive.
It's still in it's gills-n-flippies developy stages, has a domain name that doesn't match the site name, and it's run by a ginge (apparently on the internet that means something), however it has promise of being totally radical and here are some reasons for that:

Reason 4: I signed up for it. Yes, yes I know. Shh. Come. Join me...

Reason 8: It's still being built. You might have suggestions. They might be heeded. You can't buy that kind of satisfaction unless you're overseas on a fake Visa, believe.

Reason 3: You have stuff to share buuut:
o) You don't have a website or a flashy internet blog praising yourself. Boo.
a) DeviantART makes you feel unclean and you don't dig faerieireieries.
b) Arthouse co-op brushed it's hair over it's eyes, put on a baggy Miami Vice tank top and moved from Atlanta to Red Hook in Brooklyn which means NONE of the artsy Wburg hipsters are going to trek the grueling 5.4 miles on their fixies to go see any of the stuff that they've probably already seen before only somewhere more exotic.
Like in Europe, dude.
c) Posting your work/things that inspire you on facebook makes you look like the tool you really are and your bosses totally know you're screwing around at work all the time, updating your tooly facebook and being a tool.
d) You went to huntngather and lost yourself in poking around at inspirational jive. It happens. Maybe you'll share something once you've settled down a little.
e) You went to huntngather to share some stuff but got stage fright and choked when you found out that you could end up a "featured artist", endure a painful interview and the dreaded adoration of your peers.

Reason 1: None of the members thus far have updated the activity/status section with any of the following:
a) "So and So plays Farmville all day long because So and So prefers the cool white glow of their computer monitor to the rays of the actual sun!"
b) "Here's a crappy limerick that I bet you've never (nine times) heard before!"
c) "Misspelled philosophical quote."
d) "Hey entire social network, my loved one is ill and probably dying of everything on Earth, I just thought you all should know. Don't worry, I'm totally ok…"
e) "Dear God, I know you hear my facebook prayers, Amen."
f) "Here is every article ever from the Huffington Post. p.s. I don't work at work!"
g) "I h8 the ppl I work with @the store their all morans."
h) "Today I bought miscellaneous salad bar by the pound today three times today!"
i) "Sisters are like Angel Hearts that wear your hosiery without asking or without knowing if they're even clean. Copy and paste this into your status or Jesus Christ himself will twinkle down from heaven and make sure you never have sex again unless it's with your family who sadly will be kidnapped my the M-13 gang n' sold for meth and Jonbenet Ramsey's outfits AND u will never kno when the next iPhone hits the market omg u'll be forced 2 buy the droid lol"
j) "I BLOCKED AND DELETED SOME PEOPLE! GO LITTLE VICTORIES!"

Reason 7: She's making me write stuff there. Oh my god you're so obsessed. Stop.

Reason 5: You could be the first participant to update your activity regarding your loved one's personal struggles in the hospital!

Reason 2: The First Amendment. Gooooo #%$^&*!!!!

Reason 9: It's nice to support people who make stuff, even if they did give themselves type 2 diabetes on purpose.

I'm afraid of everything.

2010-08-23T17:44:00.004-04:00

It was Saturday, August the 21st.
My pals were 15 minutes from arriving at my house.
I'd not seen them in almost a year.

I was Psyched.

My magnetic fat suit hadn't yet arrived so I wanted to make sure that my plan B was looking as best as it possibly could. Naturally, I was going to iron my cutoffs.
See, they're pretty short and made out of some sort of I-dont-even-know-what that makes them shrinkle up after being in the dryer. I've found that ironing them reduces the risk of pregnancy exponentially by adding nearly an inch to them in length, transforming them from underpants with a zipper to an indication that I need to seek Jesus.

Sadly, the ironing board was in use and I was going to have to wait.

Guess what kind of noises I made when I saw this.
Go on, just guess.

Upon closer inspection I noticed that this little nightmare had removed the screws from the underside of the board. It was obvious that he had eaten them because he is fear and fear can do that sort of thing whenever it wants to.

My shorts did not get ironed, I'm fairly certain I won't be multiplying and everyone at PETA can rest easy knowing that I uncalmly heebiejeebied this thing outside so that it can find it's way back into my house to coax Scooby seizures out of me another day.

New house, new mail, new underpants.

2010-08-18T13:50:00.005-04:00

I moved. I'm deep inside the perimeter and in a more pedi-friendly area.

That's pedi, folks. (i, not o.)

I've been mulling it over for some time now and I believe I've found out why Atlanta isn't the most pedestrian of cities. It's not exactly for want of sidewalks. They have those here. (Schools, too, believe it or not.) However, it is common knowledge the practice of driving on the sidewalks is uncouth, so they're really more of an aesthetic feature. Kind of like a fireplace that doesn't work - or like those "books" you can buy at home decor shops that aren't books at all, they're resin slabs that look like books. You know, because it's silly to decorate with real books.

Atlanta, I'm aware of your filthy, sweaty little secret.
It was but a full-page whisper hidden amongst some coupons for blue cheese dressing and Tombstone pizza, delivered to my driveway last eve.

Y'all got yourselves some magic fat suits, aint'cha.

Everything about this is right.
Why more folks out there aren't donning these, I'll never know.

People, we're talking about unique magnetized invisible under clothing here. The website says that these full-body magnet panties "caress your body with soft, breathable imported Nylon/Spandex."

For all you laypersons out there, let me break that down for you in two words:
Real Fancy.

It truly is a miracle. By somehow squeezing your size 2XXL body into this magnetic sleeveless tubesock, your blood will flow with ease. You'll eat, digest, excrete and repeat faster than ever and it won't be uncomfortable to boot. Your side profile will instantly be transformed from a cascading chicken-skin trash bag full of 98.6 degree tapioca to that of a 30 year old Norse god.

Who wouldn't want to wear one of these puppies in the middle of August in Georgia? Order now.

Ice cream is gonna save the day

2010-07-23T14:32:00.004-04:00

Summertime mixtape is GO.

Download this mess.

I swear you'll forget how to read.
Long division will become absolutely impossible and I don't care who you are -
you'll have a bikini on three minutes flat.

I mean, I've been wearing once since April. Yep. The same one, goin' strong.

Art Isn't Real (City of Sin)

2010-06-26T17:59:00.009-04:00

I've always thought the NYC subway map looked like a heart.

Not the "I 'upside-down-butt' NY" kind of heart. I'm talking about some "bali mangti Kali ma", cave full of shirtless movie extras going rock-solid bananas, still-beating human organ catching fire 'cause Harrison Ford is all up in the house about to whip some serious dang kind of heart.

I'm also goo goo for Deer Tick's War Elephant album and the song "These Old Shoes" even though John McCauley sounds like a singing handsaw.

I don't care if you don't think that's cool, I don't think you're cool.

Naturally I threw everything together in a copyright infringement casserole.

Now, before you go and exclaim in tears,

"Wait!! where's Staten Island!?" I'd like to ask you.

Where IS Staten Island?

That's right. You don't know.

You don't know because it isn't actually a real place. Neither is Rikers. In fact, neither is New Jersey or Long Island. (Those last two only exist in jokes.) They're all made up and these make-believe heart maps prove it. If any of 'em existed in real life they'd be on there, wouldn't they. Now that you've gotten the hard facts off of some blog on the internet I'd like to direct your attention to these works of art I completed during the Dutch golden age of painting.

NYC MTA Ripper. 23" x 36"

Looks like a steak, yum.
15" x 35"

I made 'em for kicks, you're still not cool, the end.

Treats:

Deer Tick: These Old Shoes

Deer Tick: Art Isn't Real (City of Sin)

Rat Jonestown / Drink the Peanut Butter update

2010-06-15T16:38:00.001-04:00

Just kidding. This is simply an excuse to post another rodenty doodle I dug up outta the sketchbook boneyard.
Goooo relevance!

Two down: addendum

2010-06-13T13:31:00.003-04:00

Three.

Three corpses and it smells exactly like New Jersey. Pardon the blurry photos, the stench of "furry thing decaying in the ceiling in Georgia in June" was incredible.

Critter No. 1 hails from Office Bathroom Ceiling City.

Now, If this had been myself, I would have been particularly leery about finding a clump of peanut butter in the bathroom, let alone giving it a quick nibble, but this is Georgia, people. You take the pb when you can get the pb.

Critter No. 2 was just passing through, stopping over in scenic Kitchen Ceiling, famous for it's peanut butter gambling and live shows.

And last, full-figured Critter No. 3 in Bathroom Vanity Ceiling.

After a brief inspection of the surrounding area, full-figured Critter No. 3 was found to be losing clumps of hair, skin and fluids. Obviously Critter No. 3 was simply haunting the vanity in it's never-ending quest for eternal beauty. Damn that peanut butter, it goes right to the neck.

Am I right or am I right. Right?

zing.

Two down

2010-06-11T12:29:00.003-04:00

There are critters living in my ceiling. Mammals.

Beasts.

I worry about Omelette being injured by some saw-mouthed 40-pound rodent. I also worry about her getting up the gusto to attack the 40-pound rodent resulting in a ratblood n' rabies piñata party.

Whatever is having field day relay races in the ceiling at 4a.m. sounds like it's got biceps with knife tattoos on them and/or like surrounding yourself with twelve CRT televisions and playing every episode of the Jersey Shore simultaneously.

A pest control fella came by and cut three holes in the ceiling and set traps up there. Not like, "Gotcha! Now I'll release you into the wild so that you can resume your rodenty life elsewhere" traps, more like, "if you survive this, you'll be telling us all about the universe from the comfort of your rodent wheelchair" traps.

Yikes traps.

Two hours after the pest fella left I heard the first of the rodent IEDs detonate with a sharp snap, sounding something like an indoor-kid doing an ollie on a skateboard sans wheels.
The second went off about an hour after that. I went and stood under the spot; hoping for blood stains seeping from the ceiling (Not right, I know, deal), I was met instead with an audible dragging. Dang. It only lasted for a few seconds, but those had to have been a very painful few seconds.

Poor furry opportunists, thinking that today was the zippadee-doo-da-est day of the year, happening upon a glistening wad of delicious ceiling peanut butter only to have their fuzzy little faces bashed in by a rigid wire.

Now I've got to get their corpses out of there before they start to smell like Jersey.

Double yikes.

KK2012: RGB v CMYK and the Intricacies of Keynote

2010-06-08T11:47:00.002-04:00

"As an FYI when transferring images from Illustrator or Photoshop into Keynote, Keynote mutes CMYK and make the images slightly discolored and faded. RGB makes the colors richer, especially blacks and reds."
-KK2012

OMG USA WTF BP and other short stories

2010-06-04T15:52:00.000-04:00

Internet, there's a big ol' sloppy mess in the Gulf of Mexico and a whole lot of things are going to die for a good while.

To add, a bunch of folks are soon to be economically disemboweled, and what's worse, a flood of facebook statuses are fated to be updated about how pissed lol is at omg for usa and bp making a wtf.

Other internets, I understand being pissed at omg for the wtf, but consider perhaps turning those feverish keystroking peckkity pokes into a tangible form of assistance rather than 140 characters (or less) blame confetti.
There are plenty of red-hot volunteer flings for retards (like myself) who don't have any real skills to speak of; so click some links, call some numbers, find out how you can help - AND THEN update your twitbook.

Also, internet, please don't go around thinking that I am going soft.
My motivation for sauntering down and helping out the Gulf Coast is less a concern for life on Earth and more a veiled opportunity to deepen my ever-darkening tan. If anything, I want the folks from the wildlife refuge to capture me in a net and immediately scrub me down with lemon fresh dish soap before realizing I'm not a soppy egret, that's just how I look.

Neighbors

2010-05-29T10:40:00.000-04:00

This is Omelette's neighbor, Saint.

He's a gunmetal grey ox of a pitbull and he's sweet as retard pie. Omelette's got a serious crush on him and you can tell the feeling is mutual. He drinks her pee, she rolls in his pee - it's love.

MISERY.

2010-05-22T14:46:00.000-04:00

I dropped my Fort Knox of hard drives like a shitty baby. Literally. I practically flung it from my grip as if my hands were flippers and I were a pinball wizard.
I didn't just drop it either. When my fingertips flippered the falling drive it propelled the thing outward, sending it crashing into the corner. It hit the butting walls before crashing down to the floor. WHY.

Why? Because despite my best intentions, I am tragically clumsy.
It's like I've got cerebral palsy and am receiving adrenaline shots when I'm around something valuable or important. I mean, it's only got the last two years of my tinkerings on it...

Whyyyyy.

So I've spent this Saturday treating my drive like an old Nintendo cartridge. I've been slapping it on my thigh, blowing on it, shaking it, tilting it, basically everything but jamming it into a Nintendo with another hard drive jammed in the Nintendo on top of it.
Anything to get it to turn on long enough to copy files somewhere else. AGONY.

I foresee a LOT of broken hips in my future.

Tribeca Poetry Review

2010-05-22T12:22:00.004-04:00

Some stuff and some things from a neat project for the Tribeca Poetry Review.

If any of you folks out there on the other end of this internet fancy writing, the Tribeca Poetry Review, an annual compilation of fantastic poetry and the like, is currently accepting submissions for the 2011 issue.

Visit the website to find out how to do that.

Additionally, if any of you folks out there on the other end of this internet fancy reading material other than d-listed, facebook and the versos of cereal boxes - keep your eyes peeled for the first annual publication ever. It will look a little something like this (and feel like velvet magic):

Website: tribecareview.org
Contact: editor@tribecareview.org

Some dudes

2010-05-14T14:04:00.000-04:00

A few sketcharoos of a couple of dudes that came out of an ittybitty 3x5 sketchbook.

That's my brother (who loves Easter) and this is his "I love Easter" face.

That's some chauncey buster, BR79. You can tell he's the wackness 'cause he's got a mug full o' steeze.

That's a prechubbery Elvis copping a kissysmoochy duckface.

And that's Prince, the artist formerly known as an unpronounceable symbol and even formerly-erly known as Prince.

Mother's Day

2010-05-08T13:43:00.001-04:00

You know those cards on word processing programs that you fold over once, fold over again and voilá - you have a really crummy, poorly folded piece of crumply wastepaper that you printed off of a spotty inkjet? Yeah?

Well here's one I made for Mother's day IN THAT SAME FASHION.

Go on. Click on it.
Print it out on your mom's printer so that you don't waste any of YOUR precious ink, fold it up as half-assedly as only you are capable of, trim up the edges with your sharpest pair of safety scissors and give it to your beloved mother.
Try and do a good job of it too, I mean she only carried you around in her guts for nine months trying her damnedest not to let anyone catch her smoking and drinking.

What.

You don't like that I drew it across the gutter of a sketchbook?
Really? It's FREE, jerk.

If you want something stunning I suggest you bite the bullet. March yourself right down to Walgreens and spend three bucks on telling her how you really feel in someone else's words.

Happy Mother's Day.

Be nice.

The eighties happened to a lot of folks out there.

Two very important things

2010-05-01T14:42:00.000-04:00

Number first.

Today is Joanna Lumley's birthday. Praise.

Number second.
I've recently received the greatest email in the history of e-mails. Not to discount (only yes - I totally mean to discount) the other e-mails I've received in the past, but this one...

This one will not be topped.
I might as well never check my inbox again. I mean it.
Internet, I hereby retire my e-mails for the rest of ever, for behold:

ONE FREE WAFFLE
IN YOUR FAAAAAAAAAACE!!!!!!!!

Anyhow, I'd like to apologize for never checking my e-mail ever again.
Sorry about that.

What's cookin'

2010-04-25T15:02:00.001-04:00

Who cooks when it's 80 degrees and sunny on a Sunday?

Terrorists.
Terrorists do.

Internet, go do your country a favor.
Sit around outside in something questionable and drink circus-colored beverages with a bendy straw. Eat some fruit. Live the dream.

Bless.

Poutsy McClownsy

2010-04-21T15:59:00.000-04:00

I was going to write something about this fella but Omelette the Puppy wants to go outside and freak out about how many things there are to smell the day after it rains.

So, it's a clown. Oh look, it has a balloon.
OMG are those KNEES?
OMG they ARE!
KNEES!!!

done.

Rainy day creepers

2010-04-20T13:49:00.000-04:00

It's gloomery out.

Surprise, here's a few dreary 'ol mopes!

Freaknik 2010

2010-04-18T14:13:00.002-04:00

I had no idea Freaknik was even going on, and apparently it ends today.

I missed it.

I missed a chance to flex my nasty vocabulasty.
I missed a performance by Uncle Luke in Underground Atlanta.
I missed countless opportunities to suckle down that hummingbird water otherwise known as Alizé.

Woe, I weep.
The sound of my falling tears is this; the greatest song ever penned by man.

Taking pictures and making pictures

2010-04-17T18:58:00.005-04:00

This is a secret project - or the beginnings of one I guess.

I've been wandering around snapping pictures of phone poles with Omelette the adventure dog.
Not for artsy reasons or for "I like to walk my dog look at me, health is AWESOME" reasons, I'm doing it to get tan. The art stuff - any art stuff I do, really - is just an excuse to go trollop about n' be vain.
There. Now you know my secret.

I suppose I'll post pictures of this thing when it's finished / when I resemble an oxblood leather sofa.

In other news, I've been thinking up tattoos that I could get to make my mother cry.
What do you think.

I think it's classy.

Springtime OVERLOAD

2010-04-15T14:03:00.003-04:00

The weather is being real fancy. Here's some more Spring slop.

Oh come on.

Maaaagic.

Chrysse's favorite

2010-04-14T16:10:00.000-04:00

Chrysse Haynes absolutely loves this sketch almost as much as my little brother loves Easter.
She wishes upon nearly every shining star in the sky that I would one day give it to her to cherish for the rest of her life until she dies and then gets buried (with it.)

It's Springtime, hooray.

2010-04-09T12:41:00.002-04:00

Let's celebrate the rites of Spring, internet.
Here's some fella in love.

And here are some chirping birds.

Ok bye.

eeeeeee!

2010-04-07T09:53:00.000-04:00

That is all.

Easter turkey

2010-04-05T21:37:00.001-04:00

Surprise, this is about some roadkill I saw.

Ok so you know how you're driving down the road and you see a squirrel or a cat or something* flattened into hot furbark on the baking asphalt and you're just kind of like, "ew..."?
Take that experience, add a few shakes of I-85 into the mix and multiply that by Georgia. What do you get?

A turkey.

If you took all the folks in Alabama that have ever graduated from 8th grade and lined them up (comfortably) shoulder to shoulder - they'd probably come just a few inches shy of meeting this bird's wingspan. Sadly, it looked as if it had a pretty brief life.

Now, just because I went and mentioned Alabama doesn't mean this was in four teeth n' fiddle country or anything, this was in Mall of Georgia territory. Strip malls, Radio Shacks, Olive Gardens, tax services; the Mall of Georgia is really the Southern equivalent to Long Island (only with far less red-over-brown hair dye jobs / dunkin donuts / Kosher nods / unfathomable woe).

Anyhow, a turkey.
The end.

*If happening upon roadkill in Long Island 1 of every 10 encounters will be a pigeon while 9 of every 10 encounters will be a yellowed twin mattress.

Easter is my little brother's most favorite holiday

2010-04-03T12:31:00.001-04:00

AND IT'S TOMORROW!
Oh man, he's probably so psyched.
My brother loves Easter probably 5.2% more than I love Walmart.
In fact, he just recently told me that he wanted to get a tattoo on his calf of Easter eggs, fluffy bunnies, baby chicks and heaven. He is such a swell Easter-loving guy that loves Easter.

Anyhow, enough about my 25-or-so-year-old brother who loves Easter so much it makes him weep peeps of joy. Here are a few (vague enough to be) Easter (the holiday my brother adores) related doodles!

bonus

Happy Easter to all of you out there who couldn't possibly love Easter more than my brother who loves Easter loves Easter.

Atlanta Road

2010-04-02T11:17:00.003-04:00

I took the pooch for a scenic stroll yesterday and was so moved by the surroundings that I simply HAD to take some pictures to share with you, internet.

BEHOLD.
The gold, frankincense and myrrh of Atlanta Road.

Oh that? That's just a dolphin.

Oh that? ...eh, well. er...

And that? Why, that's the fabled tape tree, of course.
They're a rarity here in Georgia, however you can't so much as throw a can of dip out the window of your '89 Datsun without hittin' at least three of these suckers in Alabama. Ain't foolin', neither.

My internet, it lives.

2010-03-31T17:54:00.003-04:00

Fantastic news!
I colored my movement shoes with a gold paint marker and got my website up and running AT THE SAME TIME.
Perhaps you should go to there.

shhh, shh.. I know. You're excited. Settle down.

Now download those wallpapers and things and flash them around in all of your friend's faces before too many folks find out about 'em and it's not even funny anymore.

Farewell March, hello shorts

2010-03-31T13:16:00.000-04:00

The weather internet says it's going to be 77 degrees.

People of Georgia - prepare yourselves. Today you will all witness what five years of living in Queens will do to the color of your thighs. The blue Fugates ain't got nothin' on these puppies, I tell you what.

Pizzamerica

2010-03-25T13:20:00.001-04:00

Had particularly dreadful pizza last night. The experience went a little something like this:

The end.

Call PETA, It's fantastic out.

2010-03-24T14:15:00.001-04:00

Gorgeous day, the sun is shining, I no longer live in New York.

That means I won't get socked in the nose by a sunsoaked trash bag brimming with curry sop and goat trimmings, beaten between the eyes by a "no-one-will-notice-if-I-piss-out-my-Turkish-coffee-on-the-corner-of-this-bodega" knockout OR the ever-impressive adenoid-searing "perhaps-I'll-just-shit-right-here-on-the-above-ground-stairs-to-the-subway-platform" pancake.

Since moving back to Georgia the worst of my olfactory worries are those Bradford Pear trees. They smell like the business end of the waiting room seats at the free clinic. In Queens.

I'm going to walk Omelette the puppy into the GROUND.

Obsession / I Love You

2010-03-23T14:38:00.010-04:00

I love fat people.
I mean like, I loooooove fat people.

Fat people, if you happen to look as if you walked off the set of the Dinosaurs TV series still wearing your Earl Sinclair getup watch the fuck out. I am going to love you.

If you're the previous owner of those size 6 (XXL) leather pants I saw yesterday at the Goodwill I yearn to meet you, to let my hungry eyes wash over you like a river of cold ranch dressing and drink you in like a pulled-pork milkshake.

So what.

Big deal.

More drunks than there are good doctors, so...

2010-03-21T14:29:00.007-04:00

Those of you wearing your yoga pants and trainers to the office singing praises of herbal detox / cayenne pepper shitshakes need to jot this little two-part skinnytip down in your fancy ol' moleskine:

No.1:
DRINK THE BEER.

Drink so much beer that you run out of beer, want to drink more beer but can't go to the store to get more beer because you will kill yourself / kill others with yourself / can't find your car in your own driveway / don't know if you even have a driveway and move on to step two in my proven program:

No.2:
DRINK THE BOOZE.

There's got to be some layin' around somewhere, all you've got to do is find it and drink it.
*You needn't drink all of the booze you find - most of the booze will suffice. You'll know you've completed this two-part program after about 10 to 12 hours (of the drinking) pass and no matter how much swill you manage to suck down your mouth is completely bone-dry.

Now relax.
I've found that lying down on your back produces the desired results in no less than two minutes, but really all you've got to do is simply stop rummaging around - blurred blind for mixers - for the duration of a commercial break on the classic rock station.

There you have it. In approximately 12 hours (around 6-7pm) you'll have puked, sweat, shit and pissed yourself so clean you are a husk. You're a fucking locust with hair and teeth. If you were to cut yourself on a routine trip to the whatever you're violently vomiting in - you would bleed like the dead in the Andromeda Strain.

You don't know what that is? You will.
You'll end up watching it start to finish, far too weak to operate the remote control. Afterward, you might consider taking in another classic such as Jason and the Argonauts. There's nothing like some good ol' stop-motion animation to quell your spins.

Whatever, you're thin and gorgeous.

*Bonus Really Really Important Meeting doodle happens to correspond with vomiting so hard you achieve liftoff. Why?
Well, once in a while I was fortunate enough to learn marketing vocabulary during painful meetings! In the advertising and marketing world it is important to throw around as much jargon (misused or otherwise) as possible, otherwise your executive thumb rings simply will not be taken seriously.

Williamsburg hipsters

2010-03-11T12:25:00.005-05:00

A good many of you who reside in the Greenpoint / Williamsburg / East Williamsburg (Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuushwick) area might have noticed a sudden and short-lived boom in the hipster population between February 28 and March 1 as the streets were absolutely teeming with seemingly ironic facial hair and over-accessorized, awkward and ill-fitting outfits.

Was it hostile competition?
-No, while they nailed the dress, they didn't manage to so much as graze the surface of the "ho-hum, nothing surprises me because I have the internet all the time" attitude.

Hipster zombie crawl?
-No, while that is typically referred to as "waking up in wburg and going to buy five-dollar espresso from somewhere that isn't a Starbucks only to complain about it, man" I understand what you mean and I don't believe folks are dressing up as tragically bored epileptics and aimlessly wandering around just because they think it's fun to do.

It was PURIM! A celebration of the failure of attempted annihilation by wearing silly costumes over conservative attire!
Fear not, Williamsburg, there will be no shortage of jazz shoes, sateen vests or grandma jewelry at the Beacon's Closet, it was just another one of those pesky Jewish holidays.

Bought it 189 years ago.

2010-03-10T12:02:00.001-05:00

Found on 36th Ave nearby 204 Oliver W Holmes School. Artist unknown and obviously radical.

You Love Your Liiiiifeeeee

2010-03-10T11:25:00.004-05:00

This doodle, bedoodled during a really really important meeting, afforded me the opportunity to escape into a legal pad and reflect upon just how much I want everyone clinging to celebrity skirts to catch on fire, eat a loaded nail gun and fall down eight flights of stairs into a steaming pit of E! Entertainment News. I know the doodle doesn't really reflect that at all, but that's what I was thinking about, believe.

Otherwise, it's a manma'am with an eggplant 'do near some palm trees. Go talent, go.

Spit

2010-03-08T12:56:00.009-05:00

It's a sandwich

2010-03-08T12:53:00.002-05:00

It was born during a meeting about some really really important things at a really really important place.

Hi There

2010-03-07T17:53:00.008-05:00

Nice to see you.

This mess is on the internet, so consider it an open invitation to poke about at some doodles and the like.
Should you feel so inclined to show this stuff and things to other folks go right on ahead, just don't tell anybody that these doodles are yours or use them for any commercial endeavors - It's rude, besides everybody already knows you have no talent. And that you are a liar. AND that you pee a little when you sneeze, fatty.

You're sincerely fat and untalented,
brina!