Spike and Visa play together. When properly introduced, most pets (especially young ones) will learn to respect each other, sometimes even to love each other like this!
When you hear horror stories about dogs hurting cats, you can usually assume that somewhere along the line, a human didn’t do their job.
(Thanks to AP/Damian Dovarganes for the photo, which I totally don't have permission to use)
Embedding is disabled, but I think you should see (and please, share!) how Diamond got her scars.
10. I did this to the bathroom.
This is about a third of the labeled items in the bathroom. I'm prepping for my cushy retirement, in a padded room.
Not because I passively-aggressively wanted to warn people away from my off-brand Axe armpit scrubbing foam (who would want it?), but because I genuinely like to label things.
9. This is where I draw/work. Everywhere I sit for more than five minutes looks like this.
8. And don’t even get me started on my room:
The only difference is my room has fewer plastic bottles and more seagulls.
7. I have been known to put hot XXX male pinup calendars on the wall in the kitchen, where subsequently no one ever wants to cook eggs and sausage again.
(I won’t illustrate this one because I love you and I don’t want to see you get hurt.)
6. I have this:
It doesn’t look so bad, I know, but that’s because a .jpg can’t bark at nothing in the wee hours of the morning, and a .jpg can’t chew up the dustpan three times now, or the vacuum cleaner attachments, or a headlamp for a bicycle, or art markers, or rulers, or clipboards, or laptop power adaptors…
5. Plus also, there’s THIS:
Trust me, this is why we can’t have nice things.
4. I listen to the Goo Goo Dolls, and if you live here, so do you.
3. I broke our bathroom window playing fetch with #5, and this is how I fixed it:
Pizza boxes are like the windows of cardboard.
2. I have a life-sized cardboard cutout of Steve Irwin that I periodically pull out and place inside a door just to cause my roommates to soil themselves.
In an act of supreme meta, Seamus mocks the Steve Irwin with which he has photobombed himself.
1. Speaking of scaring roommates, I tapped on the window to try and freak out Johann while he was playing Ultimate Alliance 2, just like I’ve been doing to my roommates whenever they’re foolish enough to try and relax, for the last seven years, and this time my hand finally went straight through the brittle, original 1927 window and sprayed him with shards of jagged glass.*
Oh, and you can see how “I fixed” it. Guess I ran out of pizza boxes.
* Everyone is fine. In fact, he took it so well I suspect him of some kind of zen state incurred by sic’ing Morrigan on the Hulk.
The John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer is an honor bestowed upon promising new writers in speculative fiction. I’m eligible, but let’s be realistic: nobody knows who I am, there are better writers out there, and besides, I’m really short. As tantalizing as the prospect of an award I have to wear on my head is, I think my efforts are best concentrated on deliberately smearing my opponents for the sheer hilarity of it.
If you’re eligible for the John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer and you’re not a scaredy-cat, you should take advantage of some free publicity. Sure, no one reads my blog except the FBI, but “no publicity is bad publicity as long as they get your name right.” And your name is probably the only thing I won’t lie about! (You’re welcome.)
Just leave a comment in this post with your e-mail address (comments are moderated and I will never unmoderate them, so it’s private). I’ll e-interview you with questions you wish I hadn’t asked and post it here with links to your work, your website, and possibly the fake online dating profile I’ll make for you at OompaLoompaBooty. If you’re really lucky, I won’t illustrate the interview, but no promises.
“Cherry” is my favorite piece of art I created in 2011.
girl feeding a cherrry to a raven in her mouth
“Pomegranate” is its companion.
Using typical primate dominance displays, I teach my Christmas gift who is in charge.
Adults are mostly immature on New Year’s Eve, so I went and hung out with some kids and their pet parents instead. I got a text message from an anonymous friend telling me how the alcohol-drenched party he was at totally sucked, while I was eating chocolate fondue and doing art collaborations with Mr. Sketchy smelly markers.
Open the post to see more photos & drawings & the winning lottery numbers for every lottery in every month of 2012…
...And this is what it looks like now.
A younger friend of mine asked me some questions about my process with art, and I thought it might be useful to blog my answers. They’re basic questions that I am often asked, but she was so very formal and serious about it that she managed to entice a formal (if not serious) answer.
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