Art First

I am an artist. I do things like stop in the middle of the sidewalk to stare at the spaces between tree branches. Yesterday I spent three hours in the early morning printing my lithograph with my professor for Print I, and, as I am a messy person, needed a bath after classes ended. In the shower I noticed that my arm had 2 intersecting lines of ink that had smudged in a very interesting way. Thinking it was a noteworthy design that I could probably recreate to good effect in a monotype, I automatically washed everything but that area so I could reference it later.

Then realized what I'd done, and nearly hurt myself laughing.

I am an artist, and I think the fumes are getting to me.

Pink is just a washed-out red

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My feelings exactly.

Double Take

Yesterday I saw one of the most stupid vehicular decisions I have ever had the misfortune to witness. On the way back to the place I'm house-sitting this week, I came up behind an old, red, beat-up minivan that looked to be from the early 90s at the latest. It was going slower that I, and I was stuck behind it for a number of blocks. As it turned, I noticed that this old, beat-up vehicle -a van that had barely gone the speed limit if that- had a huge spoiler bolted onto the roof.
Wishful, wishful thinking.

Well, THAT was interesting!

Never have I had anyone show such rapt interest in my legs as tonight. The (about) 4-year-old daughter of 2 of the music profs here sat beside me with her mother and played with my fishnets whenever she could. She was bleedin' adorable, and has about 1/2 the music school wrapped around her finger.
As to the act, it went off without a noticeable hitch, except for Le Batard falling off the stage at the very end, though apparently it looked planned.
The Finale was the Supremely Awfuls, a groups of professors who put up their act for purchase in a mortarboard auction last semester, and a group of us purchased it. MWAHAHAHAHAHA!
The final set-up of the act was Prof A standing out in drag and a bum-roll with "OMG, just look at her butt!" "I know! It's just so big..." etc. playing in the background (Prof A is a theatre prof and hammed it up rather a bit). From then, the line-up was "Fat-Bottomed Gilrs," "YMCA" "Space Cowboy" and "Wannabe." With, of course, 'appropriate' costuming for each act. Three of the 4 profs were, by the end of the act, in dresses, and the other ("Sporty Spice") wore a bra over a t-shirt. I think I cheered/laughed myself hoarse. The thing was horrily campy, tacky, and fabulous.
What was really cute was the little girl from earlier dragging her daddy's pants from where he'd tossed them stripping from one costume to the next and took them around the partitions in the back to toss them to her dad.

Straight lines, twisted brains, and winding infections

In one respect, my household is primarily composed of two groups: punsters and those who give them incredible openings. Neither category is static, but some of the one-liners that pop up out of nowhere have literally left me on the floor. Case in point: last night.

C and I were in the kitchen while I made cookies and we bantered back and forth about random topics. I complained that I had trouble keeping up with the 83-year-old who did an aerobics class on campus. He said that he'd done a workout video when he still lived with his mother, "One by Crawford somebody."
"Cindy Crawford? You did Cindy Crawford tapes?"
"Yeah, that's it. Honestly, I don't know how my mother didn't know I was gay; what straight guy in his right mind would do Cindy Crawford!?"
The inflection...the tone...truly, I almost lost my balance laughing. And it took him a moment to figure out what was so funny.

Sometimes I think that Monkey and I are way too similar. It is a constant running joke between us that we tend to think of/say/write the same things/noises/motions at the same time. Earlier today, after a long quiet period of not doing anything even remotely related to the other, we both burst out in vocal remonstrations against thoroughly inanimate objects (she a brush, I a carrot) ...at the same time. By the time we graduate, we will have mastered the art of telepathy! (At least, I think that would be cool. 'Course so would telekinesis).

Spring break was partially successful. S and I got the kitchen organized while Mum and Da escaped for a few days, I didn't kill either of the dibbuns, and did get seedlings and seeds (now sprouts) set up in my room as it is still too cold to put them outside. I do not have a job for summer, though a friend of Mum's said she'd send my resume (*mentally add accent*) to people she knows who might be looking for assistants, babysitters, nannies, etc. I intend to do this ASAP. My only problem (which developed during break) is that the only computer on which my resume is stored (the home one) contracted a massive virus of insidious and access-blocking virus. Grr.

Mentally cogitating on the vagrancies of the English language,
~Brill