Monday, September 19, 2005
Salem Witch Trials meets the O.C.
Mmmmm, my painting shirt smells funny. Like Barry White after a marathon love-making session. Like a greased up Tennesse hog-swiller who just ran out of Old Spice. Like my mom's shitzsu after a good shit sniffing.
Indeed, it is a time for a change o' clothes in the ole studio. What do I wear when I paint, you might ask? Honestly, if I had a door, I would go commando-style. Sans underwear. With a strategically placed paintbrush. Kidding. I use a palette knife. Oooh, the mere implication there hurt.
I do wish there were doors in our studios though. Not that I don't appreciate the comraderie that accompanies sharing airspace with 10 other people. I really love that. Our lil' commune is like a hothouse of disease. It is like "Outbreak" all the time. Right now I have some sort of 18th century-ish Whooping Cough inherited from "Typhoid Erin." I am "Bubonic Ali," for those of you who weren't invited to our "fever" themed partay this summer.
Ok, done ranting for the day. One more:
I do not love "Everybody Loves Raymond." Discuss. Seriously, why do they get all those awards? IT'S JUST NOT THAT FUNNY.
P.S.---How AWESOME is that picture? It's looks like the O.C. meets the Salem Witch Trials. Burn Marissa, you skeeeny bitch. Burrrrrn.