Insane Cutie

Can't. Stop. Screaming.

Artistico?

So, left to my own devices, apparently I draw. Every 10 years or so I have a weird shot of creativity where something inside me says OH NOW NOW NOW, and then I must obey or...well, I don't know. But I obeyed. Usually it's writing of some sort, but this time it was drawing. Don't ask me why. All I know is that I tore the place apart looking for my favorite drawing pad--this luscious, huge cream paper with thickness that drinks in whatever pen, pencil, etc. I chose to use. I couldn't find it, so it was all on printer paper, your basic, scag white. But it didn't stop me, you see, because a person obsessed will not be scorned. My fave is the pic of my gramma, but do feel free to call the psychotherapist of your choice to analyze the rest because, hey, I agree that some if it is a leeeetle bit weird. Enjoy, in order of creation.

The Muppets: Bohemian Rhapsody

I am thankful for this. At least watch until Animal. OMG, I almost keeled over.

Which would have been bad since I'm stuffed like a tick. My Thanksgiving dinner was goooooooooooooood. My boneless, skinless turkey breast came out super juicy. Miraculous. I guess I should be able to cook successfully at least once a year. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Scott Campbell!!!

Thanks to my favorite girl for sending me a link that, when followed, lead me to find the blog of Scott Campbell, art director at Double Fine Productions, creators of successful video games (including the new Brutal Legend you’ve seen all those commercials for) but most importantly, Psychonauts.

Girl linked me here, which has a link crediting the artist, Scott Campbell. One click and scroll down and I realized what I was looking at: the artist responsible for the beloved freakshow that is Psychonauts, one of the greatest games ever (ever!). This is a game that places you in a velvet painting world, disco manse, mega game board, topsy turvy suburbs, and more! It’s incredibly imaginative, challenging, and fun as hell. Though it was undoubtedly collaborative, Scott Campbell’s artistic touch is in every frame. If you’ve ever had the pleasure of playing it, you know the art is some “next level” stuff—not to be down on gaming art at all, but Campbell’s work is really special. Here’s a shot of the gameboard:


And some video of that crazy suburb:



Check out his blog and see for yourself. Much to my chagrin, he was JUST HERE, doing a show at myplasticheart gallery, which I’ve never been to but, having cruised through the other exhibit posters on the website, is now clearly a top priority destination. Since following the links like a madthing (hours!) I’ve looked at just about everything and have a new goal: Own a Scott Campbell print. OMG OMG a goal! I haven’t had one in so long!

Click here to see the Great Showdowns series. I linked directly to my favorite print (the Kurgan! Aliens! OMG!) but the rest are very awesome, too. Click here for his main photostream page to see a wider variety of his work. A quick tour will tell you why I love this guy, but this panel pretty much seals the deal.

And if anything else was necessary to put Scott Campbell on my favorites list, it would have to be this.

Permanent link on the right!

Thank!

Favorite Thanksgiving Memories

--Grandma’s Cooking: turkey, stuffing, potatoes, cranberry sauce with can-shape
--First Thanksgiving I can remember: My cousin Alicia crying the entire day…she was NOT having the Thanks, thanks
--My cousin Jason, who only ever wanted turkey and nothing else
--Black olives on every finger, wielding them at the adults, yelling commences
--The family, all together and alive. I miss my grandparents.

The Cuteness Doth Overload

Give thanks for miniyappers and their wee complaints and watch this video now, thanks to Cute Overload. The little grrr yaps notwithstanding, hold out for those masterful splits of indignation. If you’re still a sad sap in the office, remember to screech into your elbow, much like you should when you’re coughing swine flu.

Obviously Thankful for Congress

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Things Not to Be Thankful For - Silverdome, Goldman Sachs & Congressional Recess
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Health Care Crisis

So Thankful for The Amazing Race

Though it’s hard to root for anyone in these last legs of the race. It seems like everyone has pulled some shady shit…though there are standouts. I once was a big fan of the gay bros, Sam and Dan, but then they started to show ass by not just bickering, but screeching at each other like a couple of Pomeranians on a hunk of pork. Evidenced here:


The raging ass screams while the other does the work.


The other stops the work to screech back.


The obvious is stated.


But then, next episode, they just went too far. Scream it, sister, but those bitches are still stealing your damn cab.


Eurocabbies cannot be trusted. They are liars and co-conspirators.


So I’m hoping the Globetrotters win it all.

And on this Thanksgiving, don’t forget to…

Drama Queenz

Did you know this was a quantifiable THING? It’s called Wagnerian Rock. And I am a sad, sad sucker for it. It starts with Meatloaf…it ends, never.

I Would Do Anything for Love



It’s All Coming Back to Me Now



If I Close My Eyes Forever



Tonight Is What It Means to Be Young



Bring Me to Life

I Have Issues

It's not her fault. All the same, this is why I judge her.


It's just another form of hating things like this (gug):


And leads, inevitably, to the reason I can't stand this:


So. Sorry. Must go VOMIT in the sink.

Stream of Conscious Freakshow

In my head, circling and circling…



Which leads me here, of course…



And now, because you have few choices, you must watch this…



Flex, Colton, flex! Emote, emote…do it now, Colton, do it now! Respect him. He’s 47. And, while we are sharing, it reminds me of this…


And, inevitably, this:


You know you thought it, too. Everybody remember their safe words! Thank me later.

PS. You know you like the leather. Remember how much you loved this?

Field Rage

Oh do explain how this is forgivable? Because gramma was watching her ABC nightly news this evening and could have sworn they were taking a sympathetic side to this bullshit. They conceded that, yes, it was bad, but spent a little too much time on how this poor young woman was going to suffer horribly from overexposure. I'm sorry? Are we playing the violin for this violent little creep? Whyso? I kept wondering if they would've played that violin so loud if this player had been black.

Don't lie, you thought it, too. And speaking of bad little white girls, are we really giving this one a pass when we'd happily burn Britney Spears at the stake for shaving her head and beating a car with an umbrella? People say Britney is supposed to be a role model. Considering her profession, that is arguable either way. But a college women’s soccer player? Not a role model? Not eligible for the same scrutiny, somehow?

Or is this just another case of letting athletes off for any bad, violent, hateful, criminal behavior? I guess we can at least now say there are equal rights for both men and women, at least in the world of sports. You all get to be heinous douchebags. Congrats.

Yankees and Hellions and Sluts, O My!

Dazzle and I went to Trader Joe's today to buy vino para weekend. We decided to go at about 2:45, not realizing that the trip home, at about 3:00, would be a shitshow of teenagers and asshats leaving the Yankees parade. Ugh. The 14th street station was an absolute nightmare. We weaved through the throngs of hormonal hellions and miscellaneous freakshows, spitting hate speech and hexes in every direction.

The older I get, the less I can stand the youth. But, to be fair, we acknowledged that teens are bad in general (look, I was one of them, one of the worst, a heinous creep) but in NYC they seem to be teen X 1000. Remember how I told you about the spawn from the train? Well, these were the older variety: no manners, no class, no hyoo-MANinty.

In my haste to judge, perhaps I should have paused.

As a teen, I was a shit. Nothing special, mind you, but I hung out at the mall, bought 20 cents worth of nothing at Taco Tico and loitered eternally, laughing, mocking, screeching, making a mess. And, to be reeeally fair, I was not necessarily the most chaste of kids. At the ripe old age of 13, I played this WHOLE ALBUM at my grandparents house, repeatedly...not just in my room, but on the family stereo, out in the OPEN:



And whilst I loved that album, I looked like this:


No, seriously, believe it:


But I forgive myself. At least I didn't drive like this:


OMG, I love my sister. Her crazy ass. Look at her at the mall, at the shoe shop, with her boyfriend. What was his name again? OH, I remember, fool. But who can answer why your hair was fuchsia, girl? Why? Why, girl, why?



To be terribly, horribly honest, I also loved this. Vanity, with her crazy eyes, picking on that poor gay boy? Hello! I loved it. And I really had NO IDEA what it all meant. Ask me to tell you the story of what happened at the Typographers Union picnic around the same time I loved alllll of this nasty shit and you'll understand just how daft, and innocent, I truly was. Sad sad sad. Let's enjoy more Crazy Eyes!



Nevah say NEVAHHH! For a better rendition of that particular thought:

Don't Mess with Texas

After a week of horror in multiple bathrooms on multiple floors in the historical building in which I work, it's like the ABC Nightly News knew what I needed. Not to get graphic, but what the fuck, ladies? Really, I mean, what the fuck? Oft times I've wanted to leave ALL CAPS letters on the bathroom walls, printed of course, and taped up--not scrawled in permanent marker like these nasty bitches deserve--real classy like, honestly. The note would say something along the lines of "WHORES OF BABYLON, Shame on you and your mothers for not potty training you properly. Clean up after yourselves, you dirty, nasty bitches. Thanks!"

So, shuddering with the memories of the past week, it was such a pleasure to watch the last little story, following all of the "real" news about elections, convictions of CIA operatives, serial killers, etc., about a rest stop chain of gas stations in Texas called Buc-ee's. You can watch a video about the store itself (gourmet food, big gulps, pickled quail eggs, the wall of drinks!) but the real magic is found in the bathrooms. There's an attendant in there, constantly cleaning. The bathrooms are huge, with a bank of full stalls, floor to ceiling doors, roomy and sparkling. Everything is automatic--no touching of faucet handles, paper towel dispensers, door handles. SPARKLE SPARKLE. It was so shiny and clean.

Sigh.

I'm sure people go in there to make number 1, number 2, and even the dreaded number 3, but I imagine there's a magical mist of deodorizer that whisks it all away after every flush. I'll probably dream about the clean, shining stalls of Buc-ee's tonight. All the while knowing I'm turning into this guy:



Or maybe this guy:

Boogey Boogey

I laughed myself to death in horror at this video. Enjoy.