Showing posts with label funny shit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label funny shit. Show all posts

Monday, January 11, 2010

Have I said this before?






I heart this man and his weirdo brain and his weirdo voice and his weirdo drawings. I have recently decided to begin writing fanmail. I am starting with him.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Two things:

1. I updated my flickr and it has some photos from my recentish trip to NY.
Check it out.

2. I just spent 11 precious moments of Homework Time looking at this nonsense. I'm in love.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Get all tribal on it.

Just last night, I said to a friend that once or twice a year there will be a day or week in which ex-lovers, ex-boyfriends, ex-whatevers of mine will reach out to me. They come out of the woodwork to say hi or say they're sorry or to promote some new project they're working on. I must have been feeling clairvoyant from the bubbly because today is that day. One phone call and two texts. The texts were within 2 minutes of each other. Three old flames in one hot ass day. Lucky me.

Now, I don't believe in much, so I won't call it fate, but can you explain that this is all happening in the same week as the DVD release of the world's latest (and sexiest?) Christmas Carol remake?

Double lucky me.

Friday, March 20, 2009

If I were God...

...this would be the universe. And since it exists in this universe, I must be godly. Or gaudy?

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Saturday, January 31, 2009

I made this.


WELCOME from Michael Nason on Vimeo.

Psych. I just dreamed it once, I think. Mike Nason made it. I don't know him, but I bet I could love him. Looks like Tim and Erik.

Monday, December 29, 2008

Inspiration

Watched Funny Farm last night. So damn good. The plot is typical Chevy Chase-- one ridiculous problem after the next, calamity and hilarity ensue. Ben Stiller should send ol' Chevy a thank you note since Frustrating Shit Keeps Happening is the only genre he seems to want to be a part of these days. The point is, you miss all the good shit if you fail to take in the aesthetic properties, particularly the wardrobe of Miss Madolyn Smith and the decor of all the small town spots they hit up.

Feast.