For those of you who’ve never had a urinary tract infection, it basically feels like you are constantly filled with piss and have the urge to go every five minutes. The problem is though, is that whenever you do try to empty yourself— only a couple of insignificant drops come out.
My creative mind exhibits the same symptoms of a UTI: always filled to the brim with stuff, but when it’s time to unload onto a medium like paper or a painting— only small bits come out. This problem is no longer as hilarious as it used to be, mostly because I have a table at the Eagle Rock Center for the Arts Mini Comic-Con this May, and have not made a single thing for it.
With exceptions to this worry post.
“You may not think of a page filled with drunk photos and shameless self-promotion as an accurate reflection of your full self, but the fact remains that when we die, our social networks live on. Sometimes, that’s tragic. I had a college friend who died unexpectedly and, years later, continued to receive New Year’s and birthday wishes on his Facebook page from acquaintances who presumably did not realize he was gone. On this bizarre, living Facebook page, his memory was degraded into a shell of a social construct, an ongoing feed of meaningless pleasantries that did not even require a pulse.” — Amanda Hess, “Death in the Twitter Era.”
Pretty much a play by play of my life.
After this que runs out, this blog will be less about reblogs of asian girls with sparklers in their butts and more about my actual life.
wait… i thought asian girls with sparklers in their butts was your actual life? #realtalk
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Bolaji Badejo was a Nigerian graphic design student who was discovered in a bar by a member of the “Alien” casting team. Badejo measured at 7 feet 2 inches (218 cm) with a very slender frame and upright frame, which director Ridley Scott felt could portray the Alien and look as if his arms and legs were too long to be real.
Really want a poster-sized version of this to hang in my non-existent house…
On the night of Jack Nicholson’s birthday, Hunter S. Thompson appeared outside of Nicholson’s home, having set off a high-powered spotlight and gunfire, playing a tape of animal cries through an amplifier to awaken him. He then left a freshly-cut elk’s heart on his door as a joke before leaving when it appeared that nobody would exit the house. 1
This was Thompson’s birthday gift to Nicholson— also known as the best birthday gift EVER.
Apparently, if you don’t vote for Newt in the primaries— his wife will rip your soul out. #FACT