Whoops. Forgot I had a blog. My bad. Sorry, Mom.
1. I hiked Watkins Glen, an orgy of waterfalls and gorges. The Finger Lakes is a gorge-ous place.
2. I got a second tattoo, of a death’s head moth (top). I illustrated the original illustration for the tattoo artist to apply. It’s a reference to my love of Hannibal/horror/reading/movies/Silence of the Lambs.
The hairs there are from my dog shedding into the moisturizer. Which is gross, but not as gross as the back hair people were joking about on Facebook. With friends like these, who needs enemies?
The bottom tattoo is Alys’. We got the tattoos together, because TWINSIES. So Goth. Very wow.
3. I crocheted Clyde the Yeti. He likes jazz music. We share a classic pear body type.
4. I designed this logo for an ice cream pop company. Delicious.
5. I was my husband’s muse. Behold this portrait. It’s me, imagining cake.
As you can see, I am the second-best artist in the family.
I should hand this blog over to him.
He’d probably update it.
This week’s Illustration Friday is “worn” and this week’s Draw Machine is “avant garde outfit” — which dovetail nicely into “an avant garde outfit being worn.”
This week’s environmentally-aware illustration is of the greenest outfit of all time. This Napoleon-inspired outfit features:
- A hat garden. For vegan food on the go.
- A bird house. Even if your peers don’t understand you, your bird will.
- Solar power shoulder pads. To charge the ol’ iPhone.
- A succulent garden on the chest. Succulents are well-known for being able to thrive anywhere.
- Ray-Ban aviators at the hip. Because obviously.
- A bicycle that is made out of recycled chia pet heads. Or whatever.
When I drew this, I was all “LOL/ROTFL LOOK AT THAT HIPSTER” but I now actually want this outfit.
Here’s a detail of His Highness:
I can dig it. Now, if you’ll excuse Napoleon and I, we’re going to the Greenlight Bookstore in Fort Greene and to read some Sedaris or Franzen or something.
What is it about vacation that makes people think “it’s jorts time!”?
It’s a look I associate with tourists, which leaves me wondering where they’re coming from — emotionally and physically — that such a thing would ever be okay. (Note: Wal-Mart has a wide jort selection).
Urban Dictionary defines jorts as: a combination of the words “jean” and “shorts” used to describe the hideous attire usually sported by NASCAR afficianados and men over 40. Sometimes Jorts are accessorized with a lovely cellphone belt clip and a braided leather belt, but not always. Sometimes the Jorts wearer lets the Jorts speak for themselves.
That’s deep, y’all.
And now for another episode of: how are people getting to this blog?
Here are some of the best search phrases, courtesy of Google Analytics:
- why do nesting starlings poo so much
- 1920’s party drugs
- beyonce nude outfit
- dogs in graveyard at night
- how to dacorate ass
- kids show slut
- real life humping
- tits announcer
- tree asses together photo
- what is similar about the shredder from tmnt and the samurai
- why are mermaids kept a secret
Welcome, weirdos, fuckups and perverts! I hope you found everything you needed — and more — on this blog! It’s a cool place. You should subscribe.
It’s not prudent to lean over the subway’s yellow “do not cross because a train will decapitate you” line to look for rats.
But I’m not known for my intelligence.
(Honestly. I’m not. In middle school, my brain was decreed a paltry 129, which did not qualify me as “gifted.” Derp, derp.)
The first few days in NYC, I could not find a rat to save my life. I became despondent.
Finally, on the second-to-last day, my husband found one scampering up into a trash can.
“I love you, snuggie!” I screamed at it across the platform. “You just keep on keepin’ on!”
In the ‘burbs, yelling at vermin would be considered eccentric. In NYC, my special brand of cray-cray fit right in.
Here are some non-rat-related shots of our trip:
Continue reading You dirty, dirty rat… Come here and let me hold you.
You guys. Let’s sit down and talk about something.
Namely that I cannot be cool.
I wish I could highly recommend the fine brews at WTF Coffee Lab (Brooklyn, NYC), but I didn’t order coffee there because I got scared.
Please stop laughing at me.
Look how pretty the menu was, guys.
Continue reading WTF Coffee is right.