That's right, Comic Sans: DREAM BIG. Your dreams are futile while swimming around in my stomach acids, and will be crushed by the time they enter my intestinal tract. You will leave this world the same way in which you came: crappy!
12 October 2010
on Comic Sans
Today, I put Comic Sans in my mouth, for the pure pleasure of being able to purge it out.
That's right, Comic Sans: DREAM BIG. Your dreams are futile while swimming around in my stomach acids, and will be crushed by the time they enter my intestinal tract. You will leave this world the same way in which you came: crappy!
That's right, Comic Sans: DREAM BIG. Your dreams are futile while swimming around in my stomach acids, and will be crushed by the time they enter my intestinal tract. You will leave this world the same way in which you came: crappy!
05 October 2010
on Contraptions
I've been having a problem with this stray cat. See, stray cat knows that Otto inhabits the insides of my dwelling place, and stray cat likes to hop up onto my patio fence and lounge around inside my patio, taunting poor Otto with his menacing looks and large, erm, paws. He struts back and forth and Otto MEWS with all his might, hoping that I'll wake up and let him outside to meet his new friend.
Poor Otto doesn't know that new friend would probably kill him with one little slap (Otto's kinda wimpy). Unfortunately, this does not stop stray cat from prancing around, laughing to himself that Otto cannot come out and play.
Well...
NOT ANYMORE.
Last night, I engineered what I am calling The Ultimate Catraption: the cat trap contraption rivaled only by real chicken wire and foxes across the nation.
(Click for larger, more in-depth and completely precise view)
Here's the idea: the fishing line is pretty much invisible, shocking the cat when he tries to jump on the fence and sending him into a state of frenetic fury. He then goes and tells his other cat friends not to mess with that patio in building 6, and the cat party stops right there.
And last night, IT WORKED! There was no mangy stray cat gracing my patio with his seemingly phantom presence, and Otto and I got a solid night's sleep. As an added bonus, I was able to sleep with the glass door open and have a cool, 50-degree breeze billow through the screen.
Let's just hope it holds out through the rest of this awesome weather.
Poor Otto doesn't know that new friend would probably kill him with one little slap (Otto's kinda wimpy). Unfortunately, this does not stop stray cat from prancing around, laughing to himself that Otto cannot come out and play.
Well...
NOT ANYMORE.
Last night, I engineered what I am calling The Ultimate Catraption: the cat trap contraption rivaled only by real chicken wire and foxes across the nation.
(Click for larger, more in-depth and completely precise view)
Here's the idea: the fishing line is pretty much invisible, shocking the cat when he tries to jump on the fence and sending him into a state of frenetic fury. He then goes and tells his other cat friends not to mess with that patio in building 6, and the cat party stops right there.
And last night, IT WORKED! There was no mangy stray cat gracing my patio with his seemingly phantom presence, and Otto and I got a solid night's sleep. As an added bonus, I was able to sleep with the glass door open and have a cool, 50-degree breeze billow through the screen.
Let's just hope it holds out through the rest of this awesome weather.
01 October 2010
25 September 2010
on Dumpster Diving
There comes a time in everyone's life--I'm pretty sure--that, when driving by a dumpster, they think to themselves: "I just have to have that _______."
Today, that ______ for me was a beautiful, turquoise-stained wooden pallet. I've been craving a pallet for quite a while now, and it just so happened that the perfect pallet was waiting for me on top of the dumpster at the Toys-R-Us at Blanco and 410. There was no question in my mind: I had to have that pallet.
After climbing on top of my car (sorry, car), lifting the pallet out of the dumpster, almost dropping it and falling off the car instead (with the pallet landing on top of me, of course), I managed to scoot it over to my back seat. This thing has to weigh at least 50 pounds, but there is no way I'm leaving it here... I've gotten this far.
Lucky for me, a nice guy pulled over to help me load it up, and the awesome manager at my apartment complex helped me get it out of the car and into the house.
So, now I have a pallet. A perfect, beautiful, heavy-as-hell pallet ...that I have NO idea what I'm going to do with.
Just look at it! Look at the details, the colors, the little dents and etchings...
this is going to be a project of epic proportions!
Today, that ______ for me was a beautiful, turquoise-stained wooden pallet. I've been craving a pallet for quite a while now, and it just so happened that the perfect pallet was waiting for me on top of the dumpster at the Toys-R-Us at Blanco and 410. There was no question in my mind: I had to have that pallet.
After climbing on top of my car (sorry, car), lifting the pallet out of the dumpster, almost dropping it and falling off the car instead (with the pallet landing on top of me, of course), I managed to scoot it over to my back seat. This thing has to weigh at least 50 pounds, but there is no way I'm leaving it here... I've gotten this far.
Lucky for me, a nice guy pulled over to help me load it up, and the awesome manager at my apartment complex helped me get it out of the car and into the house.
So, now I have a pallet. A perfect, beautiful, heavy-as-hell pallet ...that I have NO idea what I'm going to do with.
Just look at it! Look at the details, the colors, the little dents and etchings...
this is going to be a project of epic proportions!
19 September 2010
on Weekends
It's been a while since I had a "Weekend," but in the past couple of weekends, I've had some amazing ones.
Three weekends ago, I took a semi-spontaneous trip to Chicago. Train rides, day drunk, Michigan Avenue, art school, Chinatown, downtown, and about 40 miles of walking later, I realized what'd I'd been missing out on: genuine, non-stop fun. Then again, it was one of my first real "Weekend"s since college, and I suppose I'd just been missing it more than I realized.
But this past weekend was no match for that Illinois city... who knew that so much else could happen right here at home. On Friday I got stuck in a flood, had someone run into my car in a parking lot, dressed in a Dirndl, chugged beer with the German club, bought shots for some European guys in a sketchy smokey bar, built an amazing art project, drove three hours through a hurricane, took Julie out for her 21st birthday in Houston, got pulled over and sobriety-tested while wearing boxers and a hoodie, lost my ID, found my ID, went to Buc-ees!!!, got home at 4 in the morning, went to church, cooked homemade biscuits, and got 1/4 through building a website.
Next weekend is La Grange and maybe Mexico; two weekends after that it's back to Chicago again. All with 6 bucks in my bank account and two massive blisters on my heels.
David was right. It's a pretty exhilarating feeling, to start conquering the world again.
Three weekends ago, I took a semi-spontaneous trip to Chicago. Train rides, day drunk, Michigan Avenue, art school, Chinatown, downtown, and about 40 miles of walking later, I realized what'd I'd been missing out on: genuine, non-stop fun. Then again, it was one of my first real "Weekend"s since college, and I suppose I'd just been missing it more than I realized.
But this past weekend was no match for that Illinois city... who knew that so much else could happen right here at home. On Friday I got stuck in a flood, had someone run into my car in a parking lot, dressed in a Dirndl, chugged beer with the German club, bought shots for some European guys in a sketchy smokey bar, built an amazing art project, drove three hours through a hurricane, took Julie out for her 21st birthday in Houston, got pulled over and sobriety-tested while wearing boxers and a hoodie, lost my ID, found my ID, went to Buc-ees!!!, got home at 4 in the morning, went to church, cooked homemade biscuits, and got 1/4 through building a website.
Next weekend is La Grange and maybe Mexico; two weekends after that it's back to Chicago again. All with 6 bucks in my bank account and two massive blisters on my heels.
David was right. It's a pretty exhilarating feeling, to start conquering the world again.
17 August 2010
on Projects
It had been a while since I worked on a project. A REAL project. Not just putting new wall hangers on the back of old pictures or buying organization at Target to try to make myself seem tidier.
Then, a gangsta-ass artist (ok not really) dropped a set of truly amazing paintings in my lap, and I felt inspired:
I thought to myself, I can't let this kid go to Chicago without making him something in return. Hours of sweating over a hot iron (no joke) I finally came up with this: a photograph printed on multiple pieces of fabric, sewn together with thick thread and stretched over a frame.
It feels good to do projects again.
Then, a gangsta-ass artist (ok not really) dropped a set of truly amazing paintings in my lap, and I felt inspired:
I thought to myself, I can't let this kid go to Chicago without making him something in return. Hours of sweating over a hot iron (no joke) I finally came up with this: a photograph printed on multiple pieces of fabric, sewn together with thick thread and stretched over a frame.
It feels good to do projects again.
06 July 2010
on 238,000 Good Memories
I wrote this letter to Chevy today:
Dear Chevy,
This past weekend, my mother was involved in an accident which left her 2001 Tahoe totaled. I cannot tell you enough how much Mom loved this Tahoe (or the Taco, as we called it, though I have no idea why).
I grew up with Chevy. My family had Suburbans for as long as I can remember, until my mom "switched" to a Tahoe in 2001. My Grandaddy had a 'Burban with over 300,000 miles on it, and it was still running when we gave it away. My first car was even a Suburban, from the year I was born (1986)... ah, the good ol' days.
Anyway, I digress: Mom's Tahoe is now kaputt. She was pretty upset when it the accident happened, but even more upset when she found out there was nothing she could do to save the poor soul. And as she was unpacking the back--"for the last time," she said sadly--she made a comment that I will never forget. She said, "There are 238,000 good memories in this thing."
238,000 good memories. 238,000 miles of mission trips to Mexico (she'd always volunteer to drive us crazy kids there and back); 238,000 miles of school trips and football games (she was always the loudest in the stands); 238,000 miles of spontaneous road trips to the beach or the mountains... yes, I'd say she was quite right. 238,000 good memories.
It touched me enough to write you a letter about it, as I just wanted to let you know... as corny as it may seem, I don't know that those 238,000 miles could have ever been put on anything else. And, I do hope Mom gets a new Chevy soon... because she's got a lot more memories to go!
Dear Chevy,
This past weekend, my mother was involved in an accident which left her 2001 Tahoe totaled. I cannot tell you enough how much Mom loved this Tahoe (or the Taco, as we called it, though I have no idea why).
I grew up with Chevy. My family had Suburbans for as long as I can remember, until my mom "switched" to a Tahoe in 2001. My Grandaddy had a 'Burban with over 300,000 miles on it, and it was still running when we gave it away. My first car was even a Suburban, from the year I was born (1986)... ah, the good ol' days.
Anyway, I digress: Mom's Tahoe is now kaputt. She was pretty upset when it the accident happened, but even more upset when she found out there was nothing she could do to save the poor soul. And as she was unpacking the back--"for the last time," she said sadly--she made a comment that I will never forget. She said, "There are 238,000 good memories in this thing."
238,000 good memories. 238,000 miles of mission trips to Mexico (she'd always volunteer to drive us crazy kids there and back); 238,000 miles of school trips and football games (she was always the loudest in the stands); 238,000 miles of spontaneous road trips to the beach or the mountains... yes, I'd say she was quite right. 238,000 good memories.
It touched me enough to write you a letter about it, as I just wanted to let you know... as corny as it may seem, I don't know that those 238,000 miles could have ever been put on anything else. And, I do hope Mom gets a new Chevy soon... because she's got a lot more memories to go!
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