Table Gossip

A half-assembled group of my high school gang of friends congregated the other night at Ashley's abode, where we promptly dished on all the people we could remember. Who's had babies, who said they were getting married and apparently aren't anymore, who was trashy and invited us to their wedding via Facebook...

Bert. (aka Ashley)

Kat. (aka Kathleen)

Sai. (aka Sarah)

Shelby.Chloe.

Rude Gestures

As keeping pads upon pads of gesture drawings can become quite the messy task, I recently went through mine and took pictures of my favorites.

Some might be missing legs, but I figure (no pun intended) they might come in handy later on.

I have also discovered I like squatting. I mean, I like drawing squatters. There is no right way to say that.

And then... the piece de resistance... just in case all us straight, non-kinky gals were wondering what doggy style looks like to the blokes, one model was kind enough to demonstrate. Inspired by Edward Gorey, my ass. Her ass, actually.

Reads: Horsies and Shiny Things

Rating:
3.89 out of 5

For a historical book it was fairly interesting, especially considering This Girl doesn't like horses. Hillenbrand's writing style was favorable and it reminded me of my own, with short, epic, cutting, last statement lines a'la "It was the last time they'd see each other." The epilogue was properly depressing, as all good historical epilogues should be.

Rating:
4.83 out of 5

Yeah, yeah, I KNOW. I read Twilight and I fell in love, okay? The key is to read it without the critical mind so many of us sarcastic teenagers are known for (crap, I'm not a teenager anymore). Once I let go and let myself get comfortable it was impossible not to sigh woefully as the last chapter approached. I was even able to ignore each time the word "musical" was used as an adjective.

Awkward Family Photos

AwkardFamilyPhotos.com rocks at bringing awesomeness like this into the limelight:

But, well... who would EVER say "Hey kids, why don't we all dress up in anatomically correct fuzzy human suits and get our photo taken? It'll be warm AND educational."

Three Illustration Amigas

There was once an agreement that every time we drew each other...

...I would be me with the fluffy hair and the skirts...

...Marisa would be wearing her striped neon sweatshirt...

...and Chelsey would be naked.

(Sorry for the shit-tastic quality on more than one of these dudes.)

Washing Machine Ride

Tim Dinter

There and Back Again: A House on the Rock Tale

Though it happened over a week ago, I would still like to document our ill-fated mini-road-trip across the grand old state of Wisconsin to see (see, not visit) House on the Rock. It started around noon and we were off to a great start! There were lots of farms, and lots of other farms, and lots of big houses between even more farms. There were also a few wrong turns and a couple frantic gas station stops that had less to do with having full bladders and more to do with needing a map, but things were still light and fluffy and fun. We even stopped to get ice cream! (and look at a map >.>)

I was the entrusted ice cream-holder as Marisa was forking over the dough for her cold treat, so of course I sampled the product. (Just to make sure she wasn't going to get poisoned or something, you know. I'm a good friend like that.) And well, it tasted... a bit like gasoline. I sniffed the ice cream. I sniffed the cone. The cashier gave me a look, so I stopped sniffing and handed it back to Marisa. Unfortunately, I wasn't crazy. Word to the wise: If you're ever between Madison and Spring Green and you stop at a gas station that has soft serve ice cream in a waffle cone, don't eat it! It's tainted.

For the record, we did make it Spring Green (only two hours later than we'd meant to). We even made it to House on the Rock, dammit. At 5:15. The last tickets are sold one hour before closing, at 6:00. So we pulled up, said hello, took photographic evidence, and then turned right back around.
The ride back was significantly better. (Well, perhaps not for Marisa, who got sick and vomited on the side of the freeway. I blame the gasoline-ice-cream, not the inordinate amount of Pancake Puppies she consumed at Denny's.) On the way home there was less swearing, less U-turns, and less "why are you in the navigator's seat if you can't read maps?"

There was plenty of time for stops on our leisurely trip back, which included:

A. The pathetic little adorable church where I now want to get married.

(Note the tiny angry person standing on the side of the highway- we drove off without Marisa, lol. That was before she ralphed- I promise we're not that mean! <3)

B. A ferocious/cuddly bear. These pictures weren't on my camera.

C. A petting zoo!

Quack.

Please No Dogs Near Deer.

Deer says hallo.

Working Hard While Hardly Working

The days when I don't work at Starbucks- which are unfortunately this summer going to outnumber the days I do work at Starbucks- I get stuck somewhere else in Target, typically cashiering, at service desk, or serving Icee's, hot dogs, and popcorn to mothers and children. Today was an Icee/hot dog/popcorn day, and quiet honestly there are only so many times you can pop popcorn before you run out of things to do. If you're talented, you can make the task last fifteen minutes. And that's if you're watching the kernels pop.

Obviously, a much better use of one's time would be doodling on pastry bags.

Motherly Advice

Last night at Starbucks, a 60-some-old man ordered a coffee from me, looked me over, and then asked, "Are you in school?" I assumed he was hoping I didn't slave away behind an espresso machine full-time at age 20, so I answered, "Yeah, I go to the Milwaukee Institute of Art and Design." (Since No One ever knows what MIAD is.) He apparently did- he goes, "MIAD?" Me: "Yup." Him: "Good for you." (Here he looked me up and down again, this time with a bit more respect.)

Then, as he was walking away with his coffee, he added, "Happy Mother's Day- don't become one."

Current Read: Seabiscuit

After finishing Vincent Bugliosi's Helter Skelter, I was in the mood for another true story, and Seabiscuit was on my shelf. I knew it had to be pretty good- they made it into a feature film, dammit- but for a girl who dislikes horses I didn't think it would actually be as interesting as it is turning out to be. About half done as of the moment.

Also, Seabiscuit is a brilliant name for a cat. Preferably a long-haired grey one.

Obligatory First Post

It's awkward. I'm ripping it off Band-Aid style.