Seriously people. If you need to draw elf ears that extend past the head and could function as daggers in close combat, maybe you're leaning a tad too hard on a single elfen trait. An elf is more than his ears, you know. Give him his dignity.


Now on to a totally unrelated topic--


I can't remember if I've ever mentioned wanting this product before, maybe in a past entry, but I do. Yeah I have an exercise ball and I can even sit on it without carooming off the walls or smashing my head against sharp corners. And all that after only 6 months of ball ownership. One day I'll be able to actually work out with it, but I wouldn't want to rush things at this stage. Technically then I don't need The Bean because isn't a ball similar? Probably the ball is better because you use more muscles keeping your balance than you would with something that keeps you stable. The Bean has really nothing special to offer me in way of fitness goals. It does, however, have other attractions.

I would like all of you to now click on the little video clip on The Bean's main page. Never mind the spiel. If that bothers you, turn off the sound and watch. You'll note that the principle position shown is that of an especially buff man or woman rocking back and forth on his/her back. A kind of sit up. When I first saw this, on TV, the very first thing that crossed my mind wasn't 'wow, I could really get into situps if I didn't have to lay on the floor' or 'neat! Now exercise will be easier than cutting toenails!' My thought immediately upon seeing those Speedo-clad washboard-ab'd men thrusting up and down was 'If I was on top, I could help him 'exercise' but they'd never accept the video as customer testimony in future ads.' I learned that The Bean has a weight capacity of 600 lbs. Plenty of wiggle room to allow for sudden downward thrusts. It's also plastic and therefore washable. Plus it's only 2 easy payments of 24.95. But wait! There's more! Act now and they'll throw in the all-new Bean Vibrating Pad and Heating Gel, worth $6,000 in popular retail outlets--now yours FREE! Call now! Operators are standing by! Ask about are Bean There Done That special!

Best thing of all though? It doesn't LOOK like what I want it for. I can leave this thing in the living room in front of company and no one would be the wiser unless they came upon us while working out on it. That would be embarrassing, but would likely result in a sudden spike in sales for the company. ;)

Tags: art
I feel: plotting product misuse

Name that Chicken!

My sister hatched 3 baby chicks 2 weeks ago and they need names! Dad's already suggested Crispy, Extra Crispy and Original Recipe and pretty much everyone who was at my sister's house on the 4th came up with chicken dish related names. What can you come up with?






All 3 chicks are going to be pets and providers of fresh omlettes and all are hens. Probably roosters would piss off her neighbors.

I feel: thirsty

A couple months ago I participated in a digital painting exercise and the assignment was to paint an apple, so this is what lurched out of my lil' inkless pen. The idea is to get away from the temptation to blend with a soft brush, which can result in a painting that looks flocked--like a 60's love den.

( Here's my first and second attempt: )


My art right now is mostly pissing me off, but not in such a way as to make me want to quit. I want my figures to stop resembling Andrew Loomis ones and start resembling my own and I'm finding this whole thing a 'two steps forward, one step back' proposition. At least I didn't piss you guys off by forgetting the cut. The second painting is pretty wide, like my ass. I gauge my visual posts that way in fact, cheek to ever-loving cheek. Not by pixel width like most people. When I consider using a cut or not, my caboose is my guide and measure and it's a pretty accurate judge of whether you guys will have to sidescroll or not. However, if I keep eating Ben and Jerry's, I may need a new template as well as a new chair. Well maybe I can add baby carrots to my Heath Bar Crunch.

Tags: art, digital painting lesson
I feel: aggravated

What a busy weekend we had! There's Beth and her baritone getting primed for the end of year concert this Wednesday and then a friend of hers invited her to take part in a charity walk-a-thon for juvenile diabetes (friend's brother has it) at Pt. Defiance Park. While she did that, hubby and I went to my aunts to pick up a piano and if you guys have ever picked up a piano from anywhere you know it isn't a casual kind of action, like loading up a La-Z-Boy into the truck. Pianos need strategic planning. In this case, this was a piano my grandfather, dad and two aunts all played on at one point, whether by choice or by force. Dad says Aunt Carolyn always had the wicked habit of starting a song completely over if she made any mistake along the way, so much so that 'Fur Elise' is permanently ingrained in his head as if Beethoven drove a horse cart through his brain. But Aunt Carolyn no longer plays so she asked me if I wanted it. I did. I miss playing and have a whole shelves' worth of saved sheet music to prove it, including one of those ubiquitous 'Hits of Today' songbooks from the 70's. There's also some real gems from older family members such as '40 Negro Spirituals' dating from about 1920, 'Scotch Songs' and 'Boogie Woogie'.

You guys need to come over once I get my musical chops back, you hear? I finally found my Bach songbook and we're ready to PAR-TAY! Bell bottoms and tie die optional. Minstrel acts and bagpipe performers please use side entrance. Thank you.

Anyhow the move. Pianos are basically large chunks of wood with wholly inadequate caster wheels mounted on the bottom corners. These wheels are the right size for an ottoman and, on an ottoman, facilitate the easy movement of such a small piece of furniture. Not so on 400 pounds of hardwood and strings. You might as well use tooth floss to pull a pig out of a wallow; in the end you have to bust out the heavy equipment and do a lot of bribing and cajoling. But before we could get our pig out, Dad and Richard had to go buy and adapter for the trailer we borrowed and while Aunt Carolyn and I waited, she suggested pulling up the section of fence near the front porch so the men could back the trailer to it. The fence sits in brackets. At some point, my now-dead uncle must have feared a tornado coming along because he also added a few nails here and there and as this was 30 or more years ago, the nails were rusty and cranky. The claw on the hammer my aunt handed me couldn't get purchase so I asked for pliers and yanked those S.O.B.'s out like rotten teeth. When the guys got back we pulled up the section and watched as Dad backed up the trailer as planned. A variety of swears were swapped back and forth but the piano was at last wrestled into place and now it's in my family room.

Oh and I started painting the kitchen.

I told you I've been busy!

Last time I did any painting, I kind of jumped the gun (only funny if you know the circumstances in which we moved from the townhouse) and painted before we got most of the furniture in. When we moved to this house I held off just in case the neighborhood showed a dark side or the house itself decided to self destruct. Now that we're sure we want to stay, I'm ready to get rid of the bland white walls. White walls are bad for me. I keep thinking of them as giant sketchbook pads and, yes, I have had to sheepishly erase pencil drawings I've idly drawn on them. One was a Lucius, done in a fit of withdrawal. I think walls done in 'Starfish' will repel me. Starfish is the color name and it's sort of a golden biscuit color. It makes me a little hungry for fresh scones and since I'm not inclined to doodle on either scones or starfish, the walls should be safe.

Tags: house painting, piano
I feel: busy

( Back here cause of nudity )

Tags: anatomy, art
I feel: artistic

That is I purged my excess household bloat upon the world in the guise of that great institution; the Garage Sale. Or Yard Sale. In my case, so perfectly poised between yard and garage, more like a Driveway Sale. I went out Saturday morning, heaped 4 tables full of stuff, set Beth to guard the loot and then stapled signs to conveniently placed stops signs that would instantly draw strangers to our home to paw through our rejected junk. The day was hot. Nearly 90 degrees in places, such as wherever I happened to stand at any given moment. Our neighbors woke up and ran sprinklers, then walked over to see what kind of taste I had in knickknacks. Actually a lot of it was unopened gifts I'd received quite recently. Gifts you get people when you stop paying attention to their current interests/sizes/passions and have to grab something generic off the center displays in stores like Wal Mart and Fred Meyer. You know, the boxed glove sets and slippers, the gift bath sets and fancy soaps. I can't stand that shit. So I just set them aside and finally their quantity hit critical mass. Out they went. I had several cannisters of body butter out there in scents like 'brown sugar' and 'pomegranate' and 'peach fizz'. I suppose if combined all of them and stood in that sun for a few hours, I'd turn into a peach cobbler and people would come up and lick me--which I probably could have charged money for. Hell there was even a Peppermint Body Lotion someone got me over the holidays, so I could have offered an after-dinner mint to cleanse the palate.

Mom also had some stuff she brought along, which was why I needed 4 whole tables. Most of her stuff was so overpriced as to be comical. For instance she had this Walkman (from the 80's no less) with no headphones and no battery, for 3 bucks. She also had an ancient mixer for 15 and half the stuff hadn't been cleaned, so I spend a long, frantic time wiping her stuff down and hosing the nasty sugar crusts from a pair of cracked canisters she should have given away. Good thing is she was willing to negotiate.

One thing I had out there was a brand new Gameboy SP. Reason why I was selling it, unopened, was because we bought that darn thing for Beth at Christmas without knowing Dad already bought her a Nintendo DS. Dad and I talked and agreed the SP was the superior system, but we forgot to take back the Gameboy and there it sat. Well little Orlando from across the street had his lasers aimed at this thing from the moment he casually wandered over to scope out our junk pile. He wanted it. He craved it. He would die without it. The free world would surely come to an end if he didn't find a clever way of procuring it, short of blatant theft, or murder. He began to bargain, frequently taking little breaks to go back home to his sisters to regroup. First he offered his older Gameboy as trade. Even trade, my new GB for his used one. Well the kid's only about 9 and might be a little ignorant--or just obsessively determined. He tried again and again, all morning, asking if he could have it for a dollar, pestering me for not just giving it to him. He asked if he could have it if I hadn't sold it by the end of the day and since all the quality stuff I didn't sell is going with me to the swap meet, I said no. He employed puppy eyes, but I'm immune. I stuck to my guns. He trotted off to do some more hard thinking. His sisters turned on their sprinkler system and he stuffed a running hose down his swim trunks, to better help him think. All it did was make him more redundant. And drippy. So now this kid is not only getting tedious and pathetic, he's dripping on my mother's doll furniture. Again I tell him the price and that's what he'll need and by the way where's mom and dad? At this point I really wanted their interference because he's started to bring all his littermates with him, as reinforcements. 4 sisters and a brother, all puppy dogging me and circling the end of my driveway like vultures waiting for their prey to die already.

Then disaster struck.

An old man arrived and picked up the coveted game, turning it over in his hands. His cell came out and he spoke to someone, quoting my asking price. Orlando hovered anxiously in the background. His little brother bit his lip--he'd been promised a turn at the game. The old man made an offer. A real offer. I sold it. Orlando stood rooted to the spot, a victim of that old chestnut 'Money Talks, Bullshit Walks'. My Mom thought I should educate him of that phrase. I figured he'd just learned it on his own.

Oh and someone stole our 25 cent basket. Not the kids, but someone did. Maybe I'll see the items for sale at some other garage sale, huh?

I feel: amused

I always wondered how poor Luce fared after Sirius kicked his magic ass and flung him across the DOM and against the stone wall. Poor baby! Don't you want to kiss him and make it all better?

He has a neck brace but HIS HAIR IS STILL SCHMEXY AS HELL

I feel: Sympathy pains! Ouch!