I used to be so awesome at doing things and then making people look at them online, but that's really gone downhill in recent years. SOOOOO, the only sensible thing to do in this HAVE MORE THINGS TO NEGLECT.

So feel free add me to your other various lists!

Facebook : [link]

Tumblr : [link]

Sketchblog : [link]

Cibus Molestus ; In Praise of Bad food and Worse Beverages : [link]

Unseen Anatomy (photoblog) : [link]


AND INTRODUCING THE BADASSEST BALLS EVER, DANGERBALLS : [link]


PS What is going on with the mood choices these days? I just want like, a smiley face or something, not a visual novel.

Pretty much. So if you for some reason aren't watching her yet, go do it!



And go see her amazing THREE DEE PEAS!!!! They're my Killer Peas from this painting. AND THEY'RE AWESOME!!! I don't know how the hell she does it.





And since I'm doing my once a year check in, I may as well show you what's been keeping me away from the internet (frown, frown). Some of the accessories I designed're starting to make it's way thru production-bags takes a long time...this is all stuff I designed last winter. Altho, if you wander around a Hot Topic, there's a ton of smaller (pins, patches, keychains, generalized random crap) LF stuff that I probably touched at some point. We have a crapload of licensed stuff happening right now.

But here's a couple of my favorite things that were just me, and are Hello Kitty, who doesn't like Hello Kitty. Check the links while they last:

HELLA HELLO KITTY BAGS


A buncha cute clear totes..


some green girly stuff..


and a collection involving popsiclage..





So anyway, that's what I've been up to. Unfortunately, that's about ALL I've been up to. It's been cool, but the plan as of now is to find something part-time-ier and get back to shows and that kinda stuff. Speaking of, I am doing a couple things right now:

Alphacult 'Up, Up, and Away' show: [link]

Flyover Gallery 'In Flight Movie' show, in Oct [link]

and Creep Machine is featuring me in Sept: [link]

So, until probably next year, knowing me, peace out.

Thanks so much to everyone who's stopped by, or fav'd, or commented recently! I appreciate it so much.

ALSO, I am going to get back to the comedy journal updates soon, I've just been too busy in all directions lately to collect my thoughts enough to write anything.

But rest assured I have LOTS of stories left, involving an exciting variety of things, like disembodied body parts, and airbrushed hair-wizards.

Sorry to disappear on ya there, an actual real job where everyday people will physically see with their eyeballs the things I make came up on my all out of nowhere last week.

So, in a couple weeks, I'll be designing tshirts & accessories & that sort of whatnot. What's awesome about this, you ask? I'll tell you:About 80% of their clothes are made especially for Hot Topic. Could this possibly be any more hilarious and perfect? I don't think so. They also do stuff for Urban Outfitters and the liscensed candy-company/movie/whatever type stuff, but that's not as entertainingly goofy. I sincerely hope I get to work on the HT stuff.

My goal here is to engineer an obnoxious cutesy character trend of epic proportions. I want to be the architect of a truly inescapable wave of pop design, and I want to climb a tree and cling to the top branches, lemur-like, and laugh and laugh and laugh as it drowns you all. It will be beautiful and amazing and hopefully incorporate the Hentai Tentacle Death Bunnies.

So if I'm not around as much, it's not for lack of love, it's just that evil comes first, you know how it is. And if you don't....oh, you will.

A tale of eyeballs, mutilation, and a fishtank full of sextoys and neon. With pictures!

Click here for the Tale of One-Eyed Willy!

I'm gonna have a couple paintings in the 'Land of the Lost' show at the Alpha Cult Gallery (thanks ~blinky1pxp ) [link] starting the 29th, so if you're near Long Beach, do stop by! Is my first stuff-in-a-gallery-in-LA.

FISH UPDATE: As I mentioned (I think) a couple journals ago, I got a betta recently, so I think this is a good time to give you a little update on how Cheap Steak is doing.

Here's a pict of him, he's actually quite pretty, in a very pink-and-girly sort of way. www.dustyartwork.com/link/devart/cheapsteak.jpg This is when I had him in my 10 gallon tank, and he was attacking the filter constantly. Actually, that's not true, sometimes he attacked the heater. And the plants. And oh yes, I had a goldfish in there for an hour or so, which he chased around ruthlessly, despite the goldfish being twice his size. That goldfish actually died sometime the night after, either of stress, or to escape the glaringly neon color scheme I decked my tank out in. Cheap Steak, on the other hand, was friskier than ever, despite his nose being so swollen (from attacking the hard plastic tank decorations) that he could hardly see around it.

Anyway, he's back in a bowl over my desk now, and doing well, despite spending an indeterminate amount of time lying on the floor of my bathroom the other weekend.

I'd gotten a really cute oblongish terra cotta planter at the goodwill, and had been planning to put fish in it, so I threw him in there first to sort of test it out, cause my current goldfish are a little too big. So I put him in there, and go off to do stuff. I come back about a half hour later to check on him, and he's not there. There's no fish in the thing. And it's not big, nor is there crap to hide under, and I don't see him on the counter around it, either. A number of possible reasons for this ran through my head at this point, including "Well, maybe he just stepped out for some fresh air."

Fortunately the tiny logical part of my brain kicks in, and I yell for my fish-experienced roomate, who comes running in to help me look for him. She spotted him on the floor, underneath the counter, and when she tried to pick him up, he was all dry and STUCK TO THE FLOOR. So she throws some water on him to get him unstuck from the tile, and tosses him back in the water, where he makes a full recovery, and is still alive, so I dunno. This is one tough fucking fish, not like all the crappy ones I got from walmart in high school. I'm definitely getting my 3.99$ out of him. I wish he would settle down just a little bit tho, as every time I go anywhere near my desk, he immediately fluffs up and makes threating gestures at me from his bowl. It's very difficult to get any work done with a fish sending tiny little death-glares your way, but I figure it won't be long before he's involved in another wacky adventure of some sort, so we'll see who's poofing out their beard at whom  then.

Let's see...other news. I'm working on another set of flashcards for Pixelgirl Presents, I'll let you know when those are for sale. I haven't had much time for anything other than work, and looking for work lately, so things'll be a little slow for awhile, artwise, but I'll try to write more to make up for it.

If you'll excuse me, I'm off to tease my fish.

So I've been tagged by the weird facts thing floating around, but since I make it my business to share the weirder aspects of my existance with all you all as it is, I figure this is a great opportunity to share some of the less known aspects of myself, in the form of 6 totally, utterly and completely mundane facts about the enigma that is Tsp!

1) My family didn't get a computer till I was a senior in high school ('99, and they didn't get internet access till  after I'd moved out, later that year). So for most of my life, I was all scared of computers and avoided them as much as possible. I typed my senior thesis up on an honest-to-god typewriter, if you can believe that shit.

There was one aspect of the computer I did like and it was, sadly, Solitare. Yes, that friend to bored workers and old people alike, Solitare. What can I say, my love affair with Solitare began early in life, (I was an only child whose parents weren't around much) and since I wasn't coordinated enough to shuffle properly, digital card games were a revelation to me. So every day, at 10:50 (3rd period, which I had off) I would walk the 9 blocks home to play it for 35 minutes or so, until I had to run back to school at top speed to make it to my 4th pd on time. AND I STILL LOVE IT. Nyah!

2) I'm a very handy person to have around. Since I was the only child, and as my dad has a number of health problems, I grew up as the free labor around my house, and my parents made sure they got their money's worth out of me.

My dad, a guy, and therefore incapable of leaving well enough alone, had me installing car radios, messing with electrical wiring, and building a deck for our house long before I knew how to operate the washing machine. This has paid off now that I'm an artist and generally live in crappy apartments that the landlords never want to fix up. I still suck at doing the laundry, tho.

3) I am a bad date. I loathe going out to eat, don't enjoy being fawned over, and am horribly uncomfortable in polite company.

However, if your idea of a perfect evening involves buying wacky candy from the Asian market, running around town volating trespassing ordinances, and making out while watching cartoons, call me.

4) I mix drinks with all the skill and facility of a ball of lint. This is not, however, to say that I have no taste whatsoever. My drink of choice is Absolut Peppar...mixed with Diet Dr. Pepper....right in the can. In fact, most of my other favorite drinks involve Diet Dr Peppar, and I feel that forgoing the glass is quite efficient. This ties quite neatly into #3, if you haven't already guessed.

5) I LOOOOVE water. Not to drink, I actually hate it in that particular form, but as a substance in general, it is one of my favorites.

My dream house, from as far back as I can remember, is one that consists of one large, tall room, filled with plants and hammocks and waterproof toys, centered around a giant swimming pool. I have fishtanks and bowls all over the apt, not because I give two shits about fish, but because having containers of water around fascinates me. I love swimming and diving, but have always been terrified of drowning. Which is annoying, as I live in constant fear of being dunked.

6) Sometimes....I just need a hug.


So! There you have it, all the things about me you never really needed to know. As opposed to all the stuff about the train, and the candy.

Have you ever wanted to put a fish in a hamster ball and roll 'im up and down the hall? I know you have, don't lie. Luckily, I am here for you, as always. No need to thank me, just avoiding doing my job.

Click here for tales of fishy excitement!

And here I am, finally getting around to letting you know I made it, a week after I arrive. I find I have to be in exaaaactly the right mood before I can get around to any sort of electronic letter-arranging.

The trip out here was fairly uneventful, which is exactly what people warned me it would be. Particularly the drive across Wyoming. EVERYBODY had to let me know that Wyoming is boring.

"Wyoming," they'd tell me in tones of conspiritorial confidence, "is boring. It's like a 600 mile wide sensory-deprivation tank. It's not uncommon, while driving across Wyoming, to discover and harness your latent pyschic powers, stare deep into the yawning chasm of your soul, and come away a new man, and to find out that you really shouldn't eat 6 whole bags of dried fruit in as state that doesn't have rest stops. You can sing '99 Bottles of Beer' ten thousand times, and still not be even half way to Cheyenne."

Despite all this helpful nay-saying, Wyoming was not, in fact, boring. The scenery was much more interesting than the average ND landscape. This was a lucky thing, because thanks to WY's brutally gradual inclines, I saw much of it in 4th gear. My car was so loaded down I wouldn't even realize I was going uphill until I looked out the window and realized I was being passed by semis, scooters, snails, Ford Festivas, etc.

The only other point of real interest in the trip came my second night on the road. I had just reached Nevada, and was staying in the flavorfully-named town of Mesquite. It couldn't've had a population of more than 10k, two-thirds of which were casino employees.

Completely exhausted, I decide to pass up the $25 a night rooms at the main casinos and splurge on a 27$ room at a small roadside motel. The place itself was a dinky, nondescript little casino with 12 rooms connected to one side. It was a little rough looking, but at that point I would've slept on a mattress tied to a tree out back.

Actually, the room wasn't too bad. When I travelled with my parents as a kid, we always stayed at these types of place, and this was in no way the worst I've seen. Nothing moved nor screamed when I turned on the lights, which in my book makes it a winner.

One thing that I hadn't seen (or maybe just never noticed before) in the midwestern motels that my room had was the thickish plastic sheets, and pillowcase covers. I looked at the for a minute before chuckling "haha watersports sheets" and then passing out on said sheets.

Until approximately 3:30 that morning, when the reason for the sheet liners became very clear. From the room next to me came the loudest, wettest, horsey-est phlem hawking vomit noises I have EVER heard.

"hhhhhHHHHHHHRRRRRRAAAAAGGGHHHHHKKK!!! Hack hack hack hurk hurg huuuUUUUUAUAAAAAHHHHHHH koff koff koff"

Would go the wall behind my bed. "Hmmmmm" I'd say.

"HHHHHUUUUUUURRRRRGGGGGUUHHHGHHGHGHGK KKKK KKK HUUHUUHUUGGHHH"

The wall would rebutt. "Jesus Christ!" I replied, impresssed.

*wet, sloppy splattery noises, like intestines impacting a plastic bedsheet,* agreed the wall.

And this went on for two ENTIRE HOURS. And this was a concrete block wall I was hearing it through, I shudder to think what it was like in person. It sounded like the guy was giving birth to a cow. In pieces. Through his lungs.

And so, rested and refreshed, I left the small town motel, vowing never to eat anything ever again, and arrived safe & sound at my new home in sunny Burbank CA, which is so far living up to all my goofy childhood expectations of California, namely that I'm surrounded by both plants and pastel stucco. Now if I can just get cracking on that business of becoming a famous artist, it'll be perfect.

Yours till the butter flies,

tsp

Finally I am actually stumbling out the door, like tonight! Whoooha!

This is going to be the least organized cross-country move in the history of ever. I have no travel plan to speak of, and my map is something on the order of one of those 'Learn the States' puzzles they used to make.

Remember? Where each state had little pictures of whatever that state was famous for on them? They never really knew what to put on ND, though. Usually we got something like a picture of a covered wagon, which may be a big part of the reason people from other states always ask me stuff like, "Do you guys still use the Pony Express?" and "Are there Indians and teepees right outside town?" and, "North Dakota? Is that in Canada?"

If I got to pick what went on the puzzle piece, I think it'd be a bold frontiersman who'd tragically frozen to death walking between his house and his barn. In gradeschool teachers were ALWAYS telling us tragic stories of people in Ye Olden Days getting lost in snowstorms and freezing to death not ten feet from safety. It was like that movie 'Alive' everytime someone went out to feed the cows. God KNOWS what it was like for the actual cows, living out in pasture and so on. I wonder if, at the end of the winter, people went out to bring in the remaining livestock, and found that most of the herd had been replaced by five or six really, really fat cows.

But the point is, travel. And if I do not shut up right now and get cracking on that, I will be here forever, so I'll see you next week, hopefully in Burbank and not an overturned wagon in the middle of Montana.



tsp

Ok, so since I haven't had time to embark on wacky projects, or write up  more of my past adventures, I figure this is a good time to do the 20 facts  meme I got tagged with like three months ago, but was too busy running my  mouth about <a  href="[link]"> my preferred sex toys to answer. I'll include lots of visual aids, it'll be all sorts of wacky.

1. I'm an inarticulate boob in normal conversation with my peers.

I can speak in public, talk to people older than myself, and spice any  conversation with all sorts of acerbic little comments, but I likely couldn't  hold a simple conversation about the weather with the majority of you.  My  brain goes way ahead of my mouth, or in other directions entirely, leaving  me to crash to a fumbling halt in the middle of small talk, beverage orders,  sexual requests, etc. Clearly, I spent my formative years with books, not  friends, because....

2. Growing up I was a total nerd! So damn nerdy!!!! Wait..... I still am!!!!

3. I can build an entire computer from scratch, but the last thing I cooked  was that hideous Jell-O monstrosity, and that was one of my more successful food-creation ventures. I can barely make a peanut butter sandwich without there being tragic consequences.

4. I am enraptured with weird antique christmas <a  href="www.dustyartwork.com/link/devart/royal.jpg"  onclick="window.open(this.href, 'popupwindow',  'width=200,height=300,noscrollbars,resizable'); return false;"> lights,  especially <a href="www.dustyartwork.com/link/devart/blue.jpg"  onclick="window.open(this.href, 'popupwindow',  'width=300,height=400,noscrollbars,resizable'); return false;"> bubble  lights! I can bore you for hours on the subject!

5. My absolute Favorite Words on Paper are Kipling's Mowgli stories. My favorite book is Mary Rogers' Freaky Friday. What I mostly read now-a-days: any non-fiction thing I stumble across, and bad slash fiction written by 12-year old virgins who think people in real life actually call each other 'lover'.

My deal is, I'm so easily sidetracked by anything. I was looking for a<a  href="www.dustyartwork.com/link/devart/redswirl.JPG"  onclick="window.open(this.href, 'popupwindow',  'width=300,height=400,noscrollbars,resizable'); return false;"> slag glass  shift knob for my car on ebay, which got me looking into how slag glass was melted out of iron ore, and how it was used to make<a  href="www.dustyartwork.com/link/devart/slagmarbs.jpg"  onclick="window.open(this.href, 'popupwindow',  'width=300,height=400,noscrollbars,resizable'); return false;"> marbles and how they were <a  href="www.dustyartwork.com/link/devart/marbles.JPG"  onclick="window.open(this.href, 'popupwindow',  'width=300,height=400,noscrollbars,resizable'); return false;"> handmade in the 1800's, which lead me to Early American Pattern Glass, which,  prior to 1915, contained manganese, WHICH, after exposure to UV rays, turns <a href="www.dustyartwork.com/link/devart/sunpurple.jpg"  onclick="window.open(this.href, 'popupwindow',  'width=300,height=400,noscrollbars,resizable'); return false;"> purple! So I was looking for purple glass for awhile, which lead me to a lovely glass dildo (ALWAYS with the glass dildos!) on a nice sex toy site, whereupon I came across a 'Parisian Art Deco' enema bag which made me laugh and laugh and laugh. I'm sure that's  exactly what Pierre Chareau had in mind when he was drawing up the plans  for the Mason deVerre.

This is why I love the internet! I can never be bored  with all this useless, hilarious info all around me!

6. I'm pretty short, lover.

7. A lot of the music I enjoy is unequovically wretched. Frequenting my  playlist are songs by E-Rotic, various Russian pop groups, random people's horribly ill-conceived FruityLoops special ed remixes, as well as N'Sync/Backstreet Boys/any up-tempo song by a generic, nonthreatening, emasculated boyband.

I fear there is no one left on this goddamn planet who judges people not by what they like, but why they like it. That's what interests me about  anyone, what are your reasons for whatever? How did you arrive at this  particular place, and what does it mean to you? To dismiss someone out of  hand for listening to/reading/liking any particular thing implies that  somewhere out there exists a definitive and concrete list of things that are 'good' and 'not'.

And unless you can produce for me this divinely concieved list to back up  your declaration that 'anyone who enjoys "book/band/brand" is stupid', I will view you as a shallow piece of shit, sweetcheeks.

8. I am desperately trying to find a tube of Orange ChapStick. Do they still make this? Have you seen it? I need it, bad bad.

9. Despite a my near-terminal lack of coordination, I was in diving for three  years. I was never terribly awesome at it, but the skill set did come in <a  href="www.dustyartwork.com/link/devart/meflip.jpg"  onclick="window.open(this.href, 'popupwindow',  'width=300,height=400,noscrollbars,resizable'); return false;"> handy   at last summer's<a  href="www.dustyartwork.com/link/devart/meupsidedown.jpg"  onclick="window.open(this.href, 'popupwindow',  'width=300,height=400,noscrollbars,resizable'); return false;"> RenFest .

10. Holy shit, we're only halfway? I'm not interesting enough for 20 facts.  Alright, let's see.....despite it being my major area of study, I was really bad at animation in college. (All are  around 1 meg Quicktimes, and the one  under 'college' has sound, which you should turn down. And I have SO MUCH  MORE where that came from. )

11. I like Coke with a few whole cloves thrown in it.

12. Less'n two months before I was born my mom got her first Great Dane  puppy, thinking 'how much work can having a giant puppy and small child at  the same time possibly be?'. Planning ahead is not a strong suit in my family.  Anyway, it all worked out, and I grew up taking my first steps hanging on to  a 4-foot tall dog, and we had Danes happily ever after.

13. Ill-use of the semicolon ANGERS me. Hyphen misuse, eh, not so much.

14. I fell off the roof of our house when I was 13 and bruised the holy hell  out of myself on the way down, (I sort of fell back into the evergreen I'd climbed  to get up there) but never told my parents 'cause I was too embarrassed.

15. I cry when I watch my favorite animated movies (when I'm alone, not  with other people, I have some dignity. A little.). I don't particularly want to  animate, anymore, but it still moves me like nothing else. Still haven't seen  in any of the 3D stuff what I love about animation, tho. Hopefully eventually, when the newness of being able to make super-realistic crap  wears off. I don't need more realism, I get WAY more than I can handle in real fucking life.

16. I miss 7up Gold. It was tasty.

While we're on the subject, god I love beverages. I've eaten the same three  foods every day for pretty much my entire life and am content with that, but  I can never, EVER get enough beverages. Especially new kinds of pop and  tea, my two grand high favorites of the liquid kingdom. I try every stupid  new flavor of cola that plops on the scene, no matter transparent a  marketing ploy it is. I'm just happy to have had the carbonated experience,  what can I say.

17. I love accumulating bruises and scrapes, but hate actual cuts due to my  being too lazy to disinfect and/or bandage anything.

18. Love scares the hell out of me. Also spiders with long spindly legs and fat juicy bodies.

19. When I was little, I played doctor with one of my girl friends. By the  time I had boy friends, you couldn't really call it 'playing' any more.

20. 99% of everything I make is met by me with complete indifference 10  minutes after I finish it. But I know I'll never stop making art, even if I  never can make what moves me.

Right! So that was sort of embarrassing, but too late to change it now, I have to get my ass back to packing, so I can GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE OH GOD I CAN'T WAIT TO LEAVE THE PRAIRIE FOREVER!!!!

Yours 'till you see the salad dressing,
tsp

Ok, the listing of more eBay paintings have been put on hold, and if you look at my current eBay auctions you'll see why this is so.

I'm sure I've mentioned once or twice what a nerd I am, am nothing proves this point better than my My Little Pony collection. I don't even recall how I started collecting the dumb things, I could give two shits about horses in general, but, in one of life's many little mysteries, I have somehow accrued upwards of 500 individual Ponies.

99% of which are from garage sales and thankfully cost maybe 50 cents, an amount which I am luckily able to reclaim in the fabulous world of rabid, mouth-frothing, online auctionry. Actually, nothing has gotten heated yet, but I was dragged to a few scary auction sales as a small child, and subsequently had the image of fat middle age women in fuchsia spandex screaming over dish sets burned into my mind. Brrrr.

What all this has to do with tent beds, as you may well be wondering, is that in digging through box after box of brightly colored horses staring at my with their dead little eyes, I found one! And set it up! On my bed!

Ok, maybe you had to have one as a child to appreciate.  For those of you who didn't, I'll elaborate. Essentially, they were a treehouse for kids who's parents wouldn't let them go on field trips and wore their asthma inhaler on a string around their neck. Basically you had a sheet with a small, hopefully flame-retardant tent attached. You set this up on your mattress and let the fun begin!

Well, fun might be a bit strong. They didn't really let in enough light for you to do much inside one, unless you had the flaps all the way open and your head outside them. And they were usually made of a really lightweight nylon fabric, so they got really hot and stuffy really fast, giving them a greenhouseish ambience. God forbid you fart in there.

But the defining thing about them, at least for me, was their structural instability, coupled with an unerring ability to sense when their occupants were in a particularly light and attuned-to-outside-stimuli sort of sleep.

No matter how careful my parents were to sure the poles were secure, those fuckers would snap shut on me in the middle of the night every time. And I, being a light sleeper with a particularly vivid imagination, would be sent in to a low Earth orbit as the whole damn thing came crashing down with me zipped securely inside it.

I seriously think the reason I'm so high strung today is from the many many nights I would be lurched from a deep sleep by the snap of tent poles and ensuing chaos of trying to find the exit zipper, in complete darkness, to a tent which I was currently wearing. It was a high price to pay for an experience that can most closely be likened to sleeping in a mousetrap, but hey, it's the idea of the thing that counts.

Now then, the train story! Since I wanted to have the illustrative diagrams of near-death right in the story, I posted it on Inguen, you can read it in all it's not-squashed-into-a-tiny-journal glory there.

It's the exciting tale of how a friend of mine and I found ourselves on a train bridge over the Missouri river just in time for the 6:00 special.

Click this here link for hot, wet train action, pardner!

It's official, I'll be moving to Burbank at the end of the month, so hey! Who all lives near LA, then?

This is so beautiful, I can hardly believe it happened, much less to me. But, it did, and so I share.

Allow me to set the scene. I'm hanging out at a grocery store, picking up the Chex Mix fixin's we forgot to get the last time we ran to the store to get ingredients for the Homemade Chex Mix Project. If you've never home made it, by the way, don't. It is a COLOSSAL pain in the ass to go through for something that is readily available fully assembled in any store.

Having fulfilled my part in this by procuring a bottle of worchester sauce, I was waiting for the other members of my shopping party up by the front doors of the store. As I was standing there, growing more and more bitter and vindictive each time the doors would open and send a blast of -20 degree air my direction, I found my eye drawn to the store display standing opposite me.

It was a festive little holiday display constructed solely from cans of Cheez Whiz and crackers. These were artfully arranged in the shape of a Christmas tree. I think, anyway. It was tall and impressive, but lopsided, like when you dig your artificial tree out of the basement only to discover someone set a bunch of boxes of old VHS tapes and VCR parts on the top of it, giving it a festive severe head injury kind of look.

I mused on this for approximately half a minute before exhausting all if the idea's entertainment possibilities, and had just turned back to the checkouts to look for my friends when I heard it. A fantastically loud bang resounded right to my left, and, being incredibly high-strung, I whipped within nanoseconds, just in time to see the most amazing thing ever to grace my eyeballs.

As if in slow motion I watched as a shower of violently orange goo exploded out from the Cheez Whiz display to settle with a soft, wet plop on the neighboring displayers, cart rack, and elderly couple just walking in the doors. It was amazing. And I have to tell you, your average can of Cheez Whiz has *great* coverage. They aren't fucking around when they warn you about aerosol cans being under pressure. It was like the scene in every hokey holiday movie when the disenchanted humbug runs out into the quiet Christmas night and finds their faith under the gentle rain of snowflakes. Only this was neon orange and smelled like cheesy ass feet.

As the crowd gathered, cashiers ran over to calm frightened old people, and the janitors came out with their little wet floor road cones, I turned back to the display to see the a Cheez Whiz can, now minus one entire side and all of its artificially tasty contents, tumble oh-so-slowly to the cheese-slicked floor below, and, just for a moment, I felt the true Spirit of Christmas inside me.

next journal: I almost get hit by a train!

Well, since the little write-up I was doing for my journal about a box of Leon Neons has turned into a fucking 12 point dissertation, replete with visual aids and a Ray Parker Jr tie-in, I have instead posted it on Inguen, and here's the link.

Welcome to the House of Leon(s)

Speaking of, as an exciting bonus, I also have the answer to that age old question, "What happens if you combine every flavor of Jell-O on the market and make Super Jell-O?".

Here is your answer.

I updated some other Inguen stuff too, but since I hate updating the front page, and because I can't remember what I've done 10 minutes after I've done it, I can't say for sure what those updates actually are.

What else was I going to ramble about? Let's see..I still have original paintings up on eBay [link] , altho the flashcards are all sold out at the moment. I'm starting a 3rd series tho.

This is kinda neat-the three Aquateen Hunger Force walls I did made it to the 4th season dvd. They're towards the middle of the fanart feature if you watch it. There's some pretty funny stuff on there, you can watch the whole clip on adultswim.com.

Hmm. That's enough about me, tell me about you. I don't bite. Unless you ask nice.

Did you know people actually write fanfic for porno anime?

Why?? Isn't pretty much the whole point of fanfic hooking up your favorite characters in steamy shit too hott for TV? Or rather, to create pairings that the original authors would never ever ever ever even think about, and *then* have then defile each other in new and undiscovered ways?

But I mean, it's *already* hentai. Everybody's already fucking every hole on every other character, plus you got your giant sentient sex toys, '18-yr-old' kindergardeners, bondage, tentacles, etc etc. So what can you possibly add to top off a genre already oozing such excitement out every oriface?

It's a mystery to me, you wacky kids and your wacky porn.

Well, now that you're all imagining porn, I've done my job and must be off, but I leave you with an amazing line from fanfic probably written by a 12-yr-old. I hope it scares and amuses you as much as me.

And in pursuit of that goal, he let his hand wander across her inner thighs and to her soaking womanhood.

Drawing the guy in my webcam reminded me of a really dumb thing I did in high school.

The Story of the Parka and The Moron or, UNZIP MEEEEE!!!

I was on the diving team, and we were supposed to wear these heavy full-legnth parkas inbetween dives at the larger meets. In theory, this was to keep us from freezing to death as we could easily have a half-hour wait between dives. Personally, I hated the parkas, and avoided them whenever possible. They had a thick fuzzy lining, and when they got wet it was like being wrapped in sodden stuffed animals. Cold, wet, heavily used and rarely washed stuffed animals.

My personal incident with the parka happened before the diving started, but after warm ups at a meet. I was sitting on a folding chair about a foot from the edge of the pool, horsing around with one of my friends, and for whatever reason, not doubt it was very good one, I pulled my knees up to my chest and then zipped my legs into the parka with me. Now, I'm a shortie, and the parka was zipped all the way, so it more than covered from my head to feet like that.  And it was tight. Really tight.

This is where I reached the point of no return, the stupidity event horizon, as it was in this case. I pulled my arms into the parka and wrapped them around my legs. Naturally that's when my friend poked me in the side causing me to jump up in surprise, lose my balance, and, unable to use my arms, pitch forward off the chair and land face first on the tile.

While landing on my face on the deck was pretty embarassing, far worse was that, try as I might, I absolutely could not get my arms into my sleeves, so I had no way to get out of that damn parka. It was too tight for me to get my legs out of, and I was a couple inches from the edge of the pool at this point, and having to be fished out of the water at a meet on account of stupidity is something not even I could live down.

No one in the immediate vicinity would help me, because they were all paralyzed with laughter, and, I hope, some horror. So I just rolled back and forth on the floor, bleeding and yelling 'UNZIP ME! UNZIIIIP MEEEEE SOMEONE!!' Until the diving manager finally did come over and, still laughing, free me from my fur-lined prison. Then they laughed some more.

The End.

Well, I've been a deviant for exactly one year now. I've met some amazing people here, people I think of as my very good friends, something I wasn't expecting.

This is the first online community I've ever been a part of, and it's meant more to me than I can say.

Almost every single piece of art I have posted here was made just for my own joy, or just to show you all, and was never seen by my classmates. Some of it I haven't even shown my friends. I've learned so much from the critique people have given me, and the change in my artwork from one year ago has been monumental. I've learned so much from the other artists here too, even learning digital paint, something I was only dimly aware existed when I joined.

Things have changed now, as they have always been, and my opinion of devart has changed too. It will change more as events unfold in the coming weeks, but how it changes is something I can't predict.


I hope the community and the fun are stregnthened and reawakened, and I hope I will want to post new artwork here again very soon. In the meantime, however, thank you all so much for the last year...I do love you crazy kids.

Alright, hands up, who here really does give a damn?