Like so many of my peers, I have long since wearied of the speciesist thrall the world of art has been held in for the last few thousand years. Sure, every once in a while some Jane Goodall want-to-be gives a gorilla some fingerpaints or shoves a brush in an elephant’s face, but where is the craft and sophistication that seperates fine art from some twaddle the zoo is auctioning off to build a new wallaby enclosure?
I could have easily left the world in this sad state and continued to stew in my own juices, but I am nothing if not a woman of action, and I took the action of teaching one Gira “The Juice” Wedgie, common housecat, the finer points of draftsmanship. It was by no means easy going, as “The Juice” is commonly known to be inattentive and, to veer into the colloquial, “a complete fucking dipshit” at the best of times. I have chosen to let the results speak for themselves.
Jeffrey Curtis, by Gira “The Juice” Wedgie
Mabel, by Gira “The Juice” Wedgie
Joseph Frankland, by Gira “The Juice” Wedgie
Human and Cat, by Gira “The Juice” Wedgie.
So, this last weekend I finally got a tattoo I’ve been wanting for over a year. Here he is:
Sorry for the utterly shitty picture quality, but the tattoo has been coated with A&D until this evening. I’d have to say that right forearm tattoos hurt more than right shoulder, but it was worth it. It came out really nicely thanks to Eric of Voodoo Monkey, and the experience was made more comfortable by talking about Futurama with Mr. Boyfriend Man and Mr. Tattoo Guy. It’s nice to get a tattoo and think “oh, wow, that’s great” rather than “what the fuck have I done?” Not that I feel that way about my other tattoo, but it’s good to feel confident after the deed is done.
Due to the convenient travel and actually getting paid aspects of Wm.’s job, he was in town again this weekend. And you know what that means — errand running time! This resulted in me picking up some Nicorette and, without planning it in advance at all, quitting smoking the same day. It’s hard to explain, but I’m really just bored with smoking. I quit for almost six months last year, and I’m tired of it again. I’ve also been smoking from stress recently, which put me up to nearly half a pack a day instead of my usual pack a week. However, cold turkey results in severe surliness, weight gain, and constipation, so I’m trying the gum this time. So far I like it, since it seems stronger than real cigarettes and kind of gives me a buzz. I’m getting all that achy-lung coughing-up-weird-things part, but not as bad as the last time I quit. I’m doing okay moodwise too, and able to keep up with my 12 hour workdays (which may be a thing of the past, but I’m not going to jinx myself here.)
I also got a 6ga taper in the mail and tapered out one of my ear piercings. This probably ranges from boring to incomprehensible to pretty much anyone reading this, since I don’t know a lot of people who are “into piercing,” but I felt like mentioning how I’m healing some tapered holes right now on top of this whole tattoo thing.
Oh, and my math class is still ridiculously easy so far. I got 95% on my first test, and only got one wrong by putting the wrong numbers in the calculator. I really hope we get to algebra before I get too bored to put forth any effort.
I guess the recurring bad news is that I’ve had a learner’s permit since January and have still only practice driven three or four times. Now Jeff’s car is broken and they’ve completely torn out Athens Street by my house, which means I have no idea when I’ll practice again. Blah.
In a recent dream my subconcious devised a plan elegant in its simplicity, but not so elegant in its making absolutely no sense. First, I created a 12 x 18 painting of Batman with giant glowing cat eyes and put it in one of those frilly gold frames. Actually, I’m not sure if that happened in the dream, but I somehow had a painting of Batman that I had made. Then, I broke into a computer store in Tacoma (in a real strip mall, but in a location that is actually a Fashion Bug). My lock-picking tool was a strand pulled from a ball of steel wool and maybe some kind of glue (though in the real world glue is used to seal padlocks shut). I entered the store and stuck my painting in a display case near the front register, along with a card stating that prints were available in a series of 3, 6, 9, 15, 18, 21, 24, and 27.
Then later in the same night, I had another dream where I realized that leaving something that I had signed my name on in red paint somewhere I had broken into probably wasn’t a good idea. My plan was to break back in and take the painting before anyone noticed, but at this point in the dream I couldn’t remember the burglarizing skills I had earlier. I was standing outside the store near a picnic table and saw a tweezers, some steel wool, and spackle sitting on the table, which I realized were my lockpicking tools. I tried to covertly grab them, but then some random annoying woman came by and tried to make small talk with me.
I then realized that I could check in the store and see if the painting was still in the display case, since they were open. I figured if it was in the display case, they couldn’t be too mad about me breaking in to leave a painting there. So, I looked in the store, and they were doing brisk business in computer goods with my painting still sitting in the display case. I think at this point in the dream I stopped caring and it ended. Though later, while half-awake, I realized I should have just bought the painting to get it out of the store, since I only wanted $40 for it anyway.
