Too busy to blog extenstively, have spent the last 65 hours of my life sweeping cricket legs into a dustpan in my studio. Seriously, there were many, many cricket legs. And there was the thorax of a bug that I'm convinced lives off of cerulean blue and spilled Lonestar. I'm calling it "Alineedstogetsomeselfdisciplineius." Other things of note that I've found in my studio:
-a plastic rhinoceros
-a drawing of two professors making out (infantile!)
-hair thingys that are matted to the floor with watercolor
-a sailor dress
-a pair of unidentified mens' shoes (a tryst with an accountant that I forgot?)
-a sticker that says "I love my mom" (why would someone give me this?)
-An old ABBA 8-track (why would someone let go of this?!!!)
-duct tape, duct tape, everywhere
-a Joni Mitchell CD that was broken in half
-undies that I used as a paint rag. Don't you judge me!
-cardboard remnants of my robot costume dildo (I was "Bad Thunder Sex Robot" in case you forgot).
There were other goodies too. But I think they would disturb you, dear readers. And I'm very concerned with your fragile cyber-psyche a la Dr. Phil,
I have my orals tomorrow. Wish me luck! Fuck that, wish me a silver tongue so that I can lash "the man" with it. And perhaps wish me a Long Island Iced Tea afterwards. And by "wish" I mean "buy."