Tenth Musee

I’m kind of too irritated with this ad to make intelligent commentary about it. All that keeps coming out my mouth is “WTF?” and that’s not exactly eloquent.

I was served this ad while checking my MySpace email this morning.  Uh… this woman is big?  Are you kidding me?!  The part that makes me mad?  I’m close to this woman’s size and this means I’ve busted my ass for all this time to be told I’m still fat by a MySpace ad?  SCREW YOU, world.  I’m so over it.  I’m so tired of women not being good enough.

To hell with you, society. Bollocks to you, media!  Better be careful, one of these “big” beautiful women might eat you!  Stupid. Stupid!

Look, I told you it wasn’t going to be eloquent.

I just had a very inappropriate lunch of fish tacos.  Sorry, Flapjack. I wasn’t thinking.

This led to a conversation with Ross about favorite foods and if we were to push daisies tomorrow, what would be our last meal on Earth?

It was tougher than I thought!  Because I love the aforementioned fish tacos… I’ve always considered them my favorite food, but it got me thinking.  If it truly were my very last night on Earth and I couldn’t ever, ever, ever taste these things again ever… could I live without a fish taco?  Yeah, probably.  I eat them all the time!

So, after some totally rushed and not at all in-depth consideration, I decided I’d want:

• 1 (or more) perfect Grey Goose martini(s) with 2 blue cheese stuffed olives
• 1 small authentic Caesar salad, with homemade dressing even with the anchovies
• 1 petit filet mignon, seared medium rare, drizzled with browned garlic butter
• 1 hot mini sourdough loaf with real whipped butter (Softened, of course. I’ll be damned if I bust my bread on a rock hard foil wrapped pat in my final hours.)
• Ben & Jerry’s Oatmeal Cookie Chunk ice cream (Leave the pint.)
• 1 cappuccino.

This sounds so decadent, it should be followed by two orgasms and a bubble bath, but I assume if I’m about to die, I’m probably not in the mood.  Then again, if it’s my last orgasms ever… I might reconsider.

What would be your last meal?

Flapjack is hanging on by a thread.  It appears he’s in advanced stages of stress and there’s not much else I can do.  Neil Patrick Harris and Bill are doing great, thriving even… but Flapjack, not so much.

I had live plants in their bowls for a while, per the fish guy at Petco. But while Bill and NPH seemed ok with it, Flapjack just wasn’t having it. The plants started to die and I had to remove them. I replaced them all with fake ones and while I kept doing 20% water changes to keep the water free of ammonia and as clean as possible, Flapjack’s water kept getting cloudy and he’s become increasingly listless. Again, Bill and NPH are fat n’ happy.

A week or so ago Flapjack started burrowing his head into the marbles at the bottom and stopped moving his fins. He’d just float vertically, sometimes thrashing about erratically and smashing into the plants and sides of the bowl to the point of exhaustion. It really bums me out.  I’ve tried changing the water, but you can’t do that too much or it just causes more stress.  Today he started swimming in “twists”, like a corkscrew… around and around until he’d collapse on the bottom.

I know it’s just a fish, but no one likes it when a pet dies. I feel like a bad fish mom. I’ve followed all the recommended advice: slowly warm up the water by putting a lamp over the bowl (Bettas like warmer water), using de-stress drops, 20% water changes, etc.  He’s lost total interest in food now, which used to be the only thing I had left, so I think it’s only a matter of time.  His color is all washed out, too… he’s kind of grayish-pink instead of deep red.  I scooped him out, thinking I’d just flush him, putting him out of his misery. But then I started to question if that would work or if he’s just swim through it and end up living in the sewer. What if he doesn’t die?  Then I’m the jerk who flushed a perfectly good fish.

So, I put him back in his bowl, where he sank like a stone to the bottom.  Even though it’s sad to watch, I’m not sure what else to do.  Boo.   

I was having a conversation about pens the other day, specifically markers.  Most people know I’m a Sharpie fiend — I have been for years. Sure, I dabbled in Pentels in middle school. One crazy night in college, I even experimented with watercolor markers. But my first markers, my gateway markers, the ones that freed my mind, that opened my eyes, that showed me the wonders art had to offer… were Mr. Sketch.

For those who aren’t familiar, Mr. Sketch markers are these fragranced, semi-thick markers with a slant tip that come in a flat Styrofoam tray slipped inside a cardboard sleeve. The packaging is much fancier now than it was in 1982, though. And we only had like, 8 and 12-count sets; now they go all the way to 18. Luckies!  Each of the colors had a corresponding scent: Black/Licorice, Red/Wild Cherry, Blue/Blueberry, Green/Mint, Yellow/Lemon, Brown/Cinnamon, Purple/Grape, and Orange/Orange, Pink/Melon, Turquoise/Mango, Magenta/Raspberry, and Dark Green/Apple.

Clearly, black was a big loser. I think that’s why I ended up loving color so much and not using black in a lot of my art.  Licorice scent = bad.  Unfortunately, this therapy didn’t work for my Jagermeister consumption in the ‘90’s.

I also hated Blue. I love the color, but the scent was right up there with Tidy Bowl. Aqua was alright… oh, ‘turquoise’, they called it. In my opinion, it’s aqua, but I won’t split hairs.  The Blue, however, was downright repelling.  It didn’t smell anything like blueberries!  I feel similarly about the blue “blueberry” Jelly Belly.  Same medicinal smell and taste… like what I imagine that blue barber comb disinfectant would taste like with a bit of Splenda. *shudder*

I liked most of them, but my faves were Brown because I looooooove cinnamon and well, pink… for obvious reasons.  I had, on more than one occasion, been told I had ink on the end of my nose from sniffing Mr. Sketch so often.  Did I have a problem?  Of course not!  I could quit any time. It’s not like they were highlighters or heaven forbid, Marks-a-lot!  It was just fruit, I swear.

When I got to middle school, you weren’t down if you didn’t have the too-good-too-be-true golden 24-count Pentel folder filled with exotic colors like Ochre and Carmine, so I was forced through peer pressure to say goodbye to my first love.  Mr. Sketch couldn’t go on with me any further. I had to brave the harsh world of art supplies and pre-teen judgement alone.

Eventually, I found a bunch of other ways to get my fix… pastels and Ticonderoga #2 pencils, mostly.  And a new box of 64-count Crayolas with the sharpener in the back.  Oh yeah, baby…

Now I’ve graduated to a house full of every Sharpie in every color at every stroke size. Yes, even the metallics. But I never forgot my first time with Mr. Sketch.  Sometimes we indulge in a few stolen moments together in the aisles of Office Depot, but then it’s back in the box until we meet again.  *sigh*

I made a total impulse purchase last night.  Impulse purchases for me are usually relegated to $5 DVDs at Target or maybe the occasional lip gloss or mid-priced bottle of wine. But I was just having that feeling yesterday, so I went to Fry’s.

For those who aren’t familiar with Fry’s, its like a Costco for geeks.  It’s just bits n’ parts n’ drives n’ cables, laptops, fans, ports, electronics, movies, music and… games.  Now, I’ve never been a big “gamer”.  I like few video games and I have specific criteria: it must be cute, it must engage and challenge, but not be so hard I curse the game within 5 minutes. And, preferably, it’ll be nil on the fighting and Battle Royale aspect that many games have taken on lately.  I think I talked about this before… I prefer adventure games and puzzle games, for the most part.

After chatting with my friend macgeezel, who is much more of a gamer than I, I picked up an XBox 360, along with Viva Pinata, Viva Pinata Party Animals, Ratatouille (because I love, love, love the movie and the game got good reviews) and my favorite… Beautiful Katamari.

Like, I said, I don’t really get into the whole role-playing aspect or the war-angles of games. I just want to unwind sometimes and let my brain kind of hang loose, so to speak. I want to see peaceful, pretty things that makes me happy, not a bunch of angry soldiers gunning down a village or whatever.  I have a Playstation 2 which I don’t play that much except for sporadic bouts of Dance Dance Revolution when I’m not inclined to go to the gym, so I’m not entirely sure what possessed me to get this, but… well, I just did. 

Though, to save a little cash, I gathered up all the PS2 games I don’t play and traded them in for a couple of the new XBox games.  Waste not, want not!  Someone else can attempt to enjoy that crap version of Jeopardy for the PS2.  My version had Alex Trebek with a ‘stache, though.

But, now I can play Beautiful Katamari with my friends online!  Hooray!  I don’t have my screenname yet, nor have I set up my profile with the 360 online gaming thingie, but if you’ve got a 360 and a screenname, maybe we can roll up some stuff together sometime…

Kathy and I were bombarded this morning with assorted ways our content and/or design work was being highjacked by other people. So I spent my morning drafting DMCA violation notices or otherwise calling out said peddlers of plagiarism. Good times, good times.

One of these offenders was [name removed because it made me feel icky], which I normally would not call out in such a public fashion except for the fact that their about page says they are a Christian-centric company.  That their “primary focus in life is God, Jesus Christ and the Holy Ghost”.  Muh!?  Jesus is going to be pissed.  It’s been a while since I read the Bible, but I did spend a significant portion of my life in parochial schools.  The last time I checked, Big J wasn’t down with theft.  Did I miss that amendment to Exodus 20:15?  “Thou shalt not steal, unless it’s on the Internet”?  I think we need an 11th Commandment – “Thou shalt not be a hypocrite.”

Now, I am not a Christian, but this is double standard by any measure.  This is also a great example of why I have a hard time buying into the idea of Christianity. I’m not knocking Christians, so don’t get all up in holy arms, nor am I suggesting that all Christians do this kind of thing. Of course not.  But this kind of entitlement drives me mad.

So, in Jesus name, I sent a cease and desist.  Amen.

I was just in Target picking up sandwich bags and a desktop fan. On my way out, I and about a half a dozen other people in the immediate area, spotted a tall, tan, leggy woman with stiletto sandals and the kind of ass you can set a drink on.  She was wearing her caramel colored hair swept up in a bun, as though she’d been at the beach and she was wearing nothing except a thin “wife-beater”-style tank that barely covered her Brazilian.  No, seriously.  Like asscheeks were visible.  She wore a tank top as a dress.

Now, I can so appreciate a beautiful woman. I thought, “Wow, she’s incredible!  She forgot her pants, but she’s got a spectacular ass.” And then, I caught the eye of the 80-year-old Barney Fife security guard checking her out, along with this 40-something guy in a muscle shirt and wrap-around shades.  You know, the kind of guy who does “finger guns” and thinks he’s a babe magnet, but still sports a fanny pack.

I smiled at them both, knowingly and went about my day, weaving through the hordes that find it necessary to invite every member of their family on a shopping trip to Target and then walk 5-across so you can’t pass with your cart. And let us not forget that one meandering kid who completely ignores that you’re trying to get by and you go hoarse saying, “Excuse me, sweetie.” until you realize no one speaks English and you’re forced to run the whole fam damily straight into Small Electrics. But I digress…

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I’m being a total lazy-ass and cross-posting this from over here because I’ve got lots to do before she gets here!

We finally figured things out regarding our little get-together in August. So here’s the scoop!

What: Drinks with Kathy and Joelle

Where: Lei Lounge (map)

When: Saturday, August 23rd from 5pm to 7pm

(I realize this is kind of advance notice, but then you should be available, no?)

Why: Because we’re awesome, that’s why! 

Kathy and I both will be there, cocktail in hand, ready to chat it up!  We’ll have some pens on hand, too, if you decide you’d like to bring your book for us to sign.  If you plan on being there (and if you plan on bringing a guest or two), please leave a comment over here so I can get a rough headcount. We might need another cabana!

Looking forward to seeing you there…

And, we apologize if anyone isn’t legal or has wee niblets they wanted to bring, but it’s Saturday evening and we’d like to let loose a little — it’s Kathy’s vacation, after all.  21 and up, please! Or, in the ever-so-delicate words of Kathy:

Kathy: there will be cursing, drinking and carrying on like drunk assholes

Kathy: NO

Kathy: KIDS

Heh.    All class.  Read the details here.

I just realized that my first concert wasn’t the B52’s in ‘90.  It was Paul Anka in ‘80. Heh! How fitting.