Saturday, May 26, 2007

"I have a very 'can you start my orange' outlook on life."
-Janeane Garafolo

I am watching Janeane do some early 90's stand up right now. She just did a bit about Hootie and the Blowfish and the Dave Matthews Band. And she's wearing an open flannel shirt with cut-off red corduroy shorts. My god, why doesn't this woman star in an hour-long medical drama? How can she not have a morning talk show, or a buddy-comedy sitcom with the now defiled Elizabeth Hasselback? I. miss. her. And not just because we share a love of the F word and carefree hair care.

Ok, I forgot to mention that I went to "Hippie Hollow" last weekend with Arturo and Becca. It was uhhhhhhmazing. I think I'm going to change my name to Moonstarpenisgaze after the many lovely visages I saw. A new Flickr account to start soon.

*For non-austonians, "Hippie Hollow" is a watery place where it's ok to get down wit' yo body.

Also, I got a deep tissue massage today. I'm bourgie, I'm limber and I don't give a fuck. Afterwards, I saw the bill for getting my windshield wipers fixed. D'oh! There goes my corporeal buzz!

The job front is looking fairly sad (despite one lingering possibility). I am, however, considering the following jobs (which I should be working on instead of writing a second blog entry):

-art director for vampire movie
-front desk person for Red Roof Inn
-paid intern for documentary about Texas History (I just puked in my mouth a little)
-freelance food writer for the "Onion." Please god yes.
-telephone harasser for the Austin Lyric Opera
-scenic artist for pretty-people-parties
-radical feminist literature seller at BookWoman. Blah, I'm over it.
-teacher at some sketchy school called "austin discovery"

Please, those that know me best (or worst, whatevs), suggest something awesome and money-makeish for me to do with my seemingly endless stretches of time. I know this is boring and self-serving, but that's what blogs are silly!

Friday, May 25, 2007

Robot Prom and Schlitterbon.

Lessee, now that I have partly assimilated into post-grad school life (full assimilation actually requires a job), I will no longer write in complete sentences. K? No more wordthings. Wordthings = stabbing pain. Ali hurt in top place when think about sentence construction or reading comprehension. Ali go instead to Schlitterbon Water Park, where everyone splash in yum-yum speedo wonderland. New Braunfels, Texas yes!

True story: for the past 3 years I have been trying to find a Schlittermate to accompany me to that glorious, glorious (vaguely diaper smelling) place. No one has been that person...yet. I was going to do a whole water-themed call to arms here, but it really doesn't matter, does it? You and I both know the best place to get seven dollar pizza and an ass sunburn.

Ahem, I have a couple of job possibilities in the air (clears throat, adjusts balls, smirks with conviction). If I get either of these jobs, dear readers you will the be the first to know. If, for some reason those blind mofos have no foresight or good taste in hireees, then you will also be the first to know. Along with my ego, which will have to face some serious truths I think...naw, just kidding. I'm a baller and no one else's opinion matters.

Something you should see: the fight between Rosie and E. Hasselback on the View. Genius. Genius. Genius. Ballers, both of them.

P.S.: Those Care Bears do have extra hair, just to clarify. They demanded it from me as their creator.

P.M.S. :I'm not sure if the 5x7 sold Shannon, I try to avoid the art paparazzi at openings and so was not able to get close enough to the piece as so many camera flashes were going off at once.

P.Menopause: Thank you for updating your blog Karri, you really took my advice to heart as you updated it seven times within an hour. Here's my next request, please transcribe the "Walker, Texas Ranger" theme song and post it. Inquiring minds want to know where the eyes of Texas really are. Holy Shit, they're behind me, YAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

*Ali was impaled by a cattle-branding iron and swallowed whole by Chuck Norris.

Friday, May 18, 2007

I'm at Clementine coffee place right now. I ordered a bagel with basil pesto and Swiss. After my order was placed in an efficient yet sultry way, (as is my signature) the coffeemployee just stared at me and said "Swiss? No one has ever ordered Swiss cheese on that." He then proceeded to tap the cash register with a furrowed brow and typical lazy ass coffee house consternation. I'm confused. Moreover, I wonder if my love of Swiss Cheese is abnormal. I mean, should I switch to Muenster, Gruyere? Have my sandwiches been counter-intuitive this whole time? Am I unpatriotic in my love of neutral-flavored cheeses? Man, I hope they never find out about my noodle preferences.

Cheddar. I should like cheddar or those all-American slices that people feed their dogs and hide worm pills in.

Fuck that, I am a lactose rebel, and I ride alone. On my cheesy chariot. Towards that cloud-shaped panini in the sky.

Um. I do feel a little sick now, I wonder how old that rare Swiss delicacy was.

P.S. My grandma is a Virgo, just in case anyone was wondering:):):):):)

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Today I wrote a not-so-nice eulogy for the deceased Mr. Falwell, but was compelled to delete it because writing bad things about recently dead people is like tonguing your grandma. It's just kind of wrong. It's like puking all over your karmic destiny. Don't get me wrong, this kind of behavior can be exhilarating and deliciously menthol-flavored, but wrong nonetheless. Next week's blog: how much I looooooooove my grandma.

In mess-related news: I moved out of my studio! It took a lot of time, lifting, whining, sweating, peeing, gargling, kneeing, noshing, grating, yodeling, twisting, twatting, frothing, freeing, phatting, googling, hollering, vasecting, historecting, filing, fidgeting, booing, diddling, bedding, washing, dicking, kicking, licking, burglaring, knocking, moshing, queefing, locking, lubing, rolling, skating, creeping and (sigh) cleaning.

Here are a coupla drawings for you.
P.S. Becca is making me a website so, soon I will have no need to dispose of my visual refuse here anymore.

Sunday, May 13, 2007

Mother's Day!
As if it's not apparent from my blog, I love my mother. I love her so much that I've posted an embarrassing photo montage of her. I could list all the things I love about my dear mother, who is a single parent, former naval officer, master's swimming champion and avid devotee of language-learning and "international folk-dancing."
Well, I could list it, and I'm sure it would sound very Chicken-Soup-For-the-Soul-Maternal-Edition, but she knows I loves her. Maybe that's the nice thing; the fact that she knows stuff without me having to say it. Aw shucks, (shuffles feet unsteadily and blushes pink with slightly age-inappropriate pride)

My one qualm with my mother is that she allowed me to dress and coif myself far too often:

Saturday, May 12, 2007

SharkPeople eat people. This is for the 5x7 thing at Arthouse. You can't tell here, but it's a little diorama comprised of layers of super classy plexi-glass. Enjoy!

Monday, May 07, 2007

Finished thesis.
Finished grad school.
Finished book about Tarzan-like prostylitizer and his amphibian whore.
Finished the "Don Juan" in one day (the "Don Juan" is a taco that resembles a giant head in both deliciousness and girth).
Finished caring about my love handles, impending aneurysm and overall health (one cannot worry when one doesn't have health insurance).
Finished receiving rejection letters from a plethora of institutions *see defeatist post below. Whitney Museum: I'm totally going to jump you in some dark alley, you dickie-wearing nerd haven.
Finished pretending to wear pants, it's time for my creative terry-cloth robe ensembles!
Finished complaining about possible jobs, have applied to a local prison as s coy yet flirtatious songbird slash warden. *See Queen Latifah in "Chicago" for more info about my potential position.
Finished writing sentences that begin with finished. Too much, Ali, tis' too much.

Sidenote: Meeting with the people from the Contemporary Arts Museum in Houston today. I have a feeling there will be a lot of misplaced laughter (on my part) and maybe some inappropriate references to sex (on their part, of course). It's always a crap-shoot with me and studio visits, sometimes I get paralyzing performance anxiety (see stilted speech by Barbara Bush to loved ones of deceased veterans ), while at other times I am (immodest though this may sound) completely irreverent and charming. To paraphrase (with some awesome wordplay!) sometimes I am "Dr. Jekyll" and sometimes I am "Mr. Hide In My Studio and Cry."

Wish me luck adoring and apathetic public!