The dead: they’re just like us.
Friends don’t touch gloves, they ram bellies.
I find it irritating that I’m only now discovering how much I enjoy wasting my time painting, drawing and embroidering nonsense, as opposed to when I gave outrageous amounts of money to an educational establishment that allowed me to do just that a decade ago. Alas.
Ever wonder what Roy Nelson would do in any given situation?
The day I get my shit together will be the day I find a way to be employed by JPL. Which basically means that it’ll never happen, because it IS rocket science, after all.
This is the result of a random chat taking a turn for the best and needing to be documented. You know, for posterity, younger generations, etc… That sort of stuff. I’m thoughtful that way.
Where you can eat under the watchful glass-eyed beasts who probably would have had you as a meal were they not stuck to a wall.
Somebody was foolish enough to commission an embroidery from me. What a chump!
Where else than the bird morgue would you rather be at on a Saturday morning?
Didn’t know this little rabble-rouser for very long, but I still feel very privileged to have had my face licked, even if it meant having a fat lip for the following couple of hours.
Alt title: Things I’m Not Very Good At But Keep Doing Anyway.
Butter Beans, I’m gonna get you.
Congratulations, Johnny! You’re old!
We had a rough start, but it was all worth it in the end.
Do you know how hard it is to name a band these days?
Or Part IV: What I did Next on the Second Day of My Vacation.
Or Part III: What I did on the Second Day of My Vacation. Alternate to the alternate: What I did on Mothers Day Posted on Fathers Day.
McFist. Punchy McFist.
Or Part II: What I Did Next On the First Day of My Vacation
At long last…