Yes bluberd, it could be true. I just may finish your birthday present by this weekend!

I’m praying to the painting Gods that I don’t do anything stupid to screw it up.

What could I possibly do you ask? Well, the other day I was carrying it down from the studio to show the associate. I slipped and almost chucked it down the spiral staircase. Another time I was doing some very fine detail work and completely forgot where my hand was resting. It turned out to be on another wet part of the painting and I had made some lovely hand prints all over it, I think the neighbors heard me shriek with that one. Last week I had the brilliant idea to pick lint out of the painting with an x-acto knife, lets just say that was a brain dead maneuver (I’ve now decided to embrace the rest of lint as part of the piece, what can I expect from a house with five animals). The list goes on.

So what is it now, about three months? I don’t think it has taken me that long to do a painting before. But then again, look at the size of this monster, it’s huge. Will you even have a wall big enough to accomodate this thing?

It will be hard to part with this one, it’s my friend now and I will miss it.

February’s self-portrait challenge is “Black and White.” Technically we’re still in January but I’m out of resolutions so I’m moving on to the next theme.

This one represents exactly how I’ve been feeling for the last couple of weeks, which is on the verge of mental collapse. There has just been too much going on for awhile now and the adoption process has worn me down to an exposed nerve. I wish it would just end. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I have little or no useful brain function and I think I’m really becoming a serious drag to all who know me.

Gay from gaysknits has “tagged” me. I’ve been reading her blog for a little while now and consider her to be one of the more interesting people I’ve never met. Something tells me she’d be fun to hang out with.

THE RULES:
Each player of this game starts with “6 weird things about you.” People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave a comment that says “you are tagged” in their comments and tell them to read your blog.

I think this is good since my brain has basically been a void for awhile now, it will give me something to write about for a change.

The problem then is in the tagging of others. I don’t actually know six other bloggers who I could tag in return. Hmmm. I’ll have to cheat and tag only two. Who are the oh so lucky recipients of my tagging you ask… Joelle and Pat. (don’t feel obligated to do this)

So now how to choose the 6 weird things without you thinking I’m too weird:

1. I love my dogs more than anything in the whole world, it’s obscene. I swear if someone told me that I had to hack off my own hand with a butter knife to save my Pig’s life, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
2. I have historically had a monstrous problem with stage fright. In college I had a good portion of my tuition paid for with grants to play oboe and English horn in the orchestra. First off, the choice of oboe for someone with stage fright is beyond stupid, I think the oboe has a solo approximately every 3 minutes in your average classical piece. I shook so much in a concert once that I slit my lip open with the reed.  It got so bad that at the end of my second year, when everyone with grants were required to go out on stage alone and play a little ditty in front of all the professors and miscellaneous students in order to keep the grant and get your final grade, I flatly refused to set foot on stage. My oboe professor was in the wings with me trying to beg, coax and finally threaten to give me a “D” if I did not go out and play something. I just stopped shaking, looked him in the eye and said “a D it is then.” I took my oboe apart and calmly left the building, happy to trade my mini stroke for a D.All the professors in the music department were well aware of my problem throughout my entire stay at that university and actually had a lot of empathy for me. They must have gotten together and decided to cut me a break because later that summer I received a letter from the conductor telling me that my “D” had been changed to a “B+.”
3. Touching newspaper gives me the creeps. I do occasionally have to deal with it, like when I make a fire, but in general I try to avoid it at all cost.
4. Speaking of news, I try to avoid that at all cost too. It is usually so upsetting and depressing that I see no need to put myself through it. I have enough to deal with in my own life, I don’t need to get all pissed off about a bunch of crap that I can’t do anything about anyway.
5. I think body hair is grotesque. Sure you have to keep a bit so you don’t look like a 10 year old girl or some whore that sloshes around a Jell-O pit for a living, but other than that, yuk. If there’s a scene in a movie or TV show where a woman is running her fingers through some guy’s chest hair, I could almost gag.
   (my apologies to any men or whores I’ve just insulted)
6. I am someone who is familiar with negative feelings like sadness or depression, I suppose you could say I am comfortable with them. On the flip side, when I am overly happy or excited about something, I guess I don’t know how to interpret these foreign feelings and at times they actually make me feel very sick or nauseous.

So there you have it, six weird things.

Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
you look like a monkey
and smell like one too:)

Here’s your special birthday song:

And your special birthday message:

Life is a bit taxing for me this week. Okay, who am I kidding, life is a bit taxing for me every week, however, some days it seems like much more of an uphill battle than others, like today.

I’ve been trying to distract myself with things guaranteed to make me smile and stop thinking so much. Madeline Kahn never fails me, just looking at her makes me instantly happy. She was a genius who died way too young.

The first video is from “History of the World, Part One,” the second is from “Young Frankenstein” which is one of my very favorite movies.

I’ve been racking my brain to come up with a final resolution for this month’s self-portrait challenge and nothing had come to me all week until tonight.

I decided that I’m gonna put my right foot in, and then I’m gonna put my right foot out. I’ll put my right foot in and shake it all about. I’ll do the Hokey Pokey and turn myself around.

Because… that is what it’s all about.

 

What do you think the chances are that you go to an art auction benefiting the local LGBT community center and the same man coincidentally ends up stalking you and your mother without knowing that you’re together?

Personally, I’d think it is a longshot, but that’s what happened Saturday night. Early in the evening I was cornered by this guy who I thought was just an overly chatty kook. I couldn’t break free from his clutches and to make matters worse he was a “close-talker” which makes me insane. Every time I took a step backwards to put some distance between us, he took a bigger step closer to me until I was finally up against a garbage can and had no more moves. Around the time I was just going to have to rudely walk away from him while he was still talking, Bluberd rescued me from this situation (thank you) and I was grateful that is was finally over. Wrong.

A little while later I noticed my mother making a beeline for me with a puzzled, WTF sort of face on. She started telling me about this weirdo who trapped her in a conversation that she couldn’t get away from. I told her it was very strange because I had just been in a similar situation. We laughed and moved on. Then we caught sight of the close-talker across the room and simultaneously blurted out “that’s him.” We had another laugh and shrugged it off. Little did we know, that was only the beginning.

Throughout the evening my mother and I would get separated and it was at these times that the close-talker would take the opportunity to pounce on one of us. We tried to avoid him at all times but I think he’s a professional nut case and was far too wily for either of us. He was really starting to freak us out and my friends were having to constantly save us. 

At some point he had my mother cornered when I was walking by and she grabbed my arm and pulled me over. She introduced me as her daughter and then the whack-job was more intrigued. Everywhere we turned he was there or heading for us from then on.

After the live auction, while we were stuck in the crowd, he made his way to us and now was showing a distinct preference for my mother. I just wanted him to get the hell away from us, but no, it was at this point he decided he wanted recite poetry to my mother.

Imagine someone in a very William Shatner-esque style, about 12″ - 14″ from your face, reciting a somewhat lengthy, original poem. My associate was with us and she grabbed my hand and every time he - emphasized - a word - like Shatner, she’d squeeze my hand and I could see she was near tears from holding back the laughter. My mother just stood there with her eyes wide open (I don’t think she even blinked, probably from amazement) and her eyebrows raised high while she just nodded her head up and down probably counting the seconds until the “performance” was over. I don’t know how she kept a straight face.

I’ve never brought my mother to anything having to do with the gay community (I don’t usually go to any events myself so why would I bring her) and I was really getting pissed off that the first time I risk it, some jackass had to stalk my mother. It honestly went on all night, he even asked her for a ride home and invited her to meet him at the museum the next day. Eventually the director was made aware of it and he started to keep us away from the guy whenever he saw him coming. Toward the end he whisked us into the back room and waited as everyone could see that the close-talker was looking high and low for us. There was talk of sneaking us out the back door but the kook finally gave up and left. We were escorted out the front entrance after someone had made sure the coast was clear and luckily never had to see him again. 

I’m glad my mother has a good sense of humor. A few of us went out afterward and she had a good laugh over the whole thing.

I’m sure it will make for an entertaining story she can tell her friends back home. And hey, I finally have something to write in my blog, there’s the upside.

After reading Belchspeak’s  recent post about Cake, I decided to jump on the Cake bandwagon and upload one of my favorite Cake covers from the album For The Kids:

I continue to have nothing to write here so for the time being I guess I’ll just post things that I find interesting or amusing.

Like this fantastic baseball card:

Wouldn’t you change your name?

I can’t say that I actually have a resolution or an intention for this week’s self-portrait challenge, it is more like a hope or wish. This will be my sixth month of endless insomnia and it is my fondest desire right now to be able to actually fall asleep on my own without the aid of a pill.

It is amazing and maddening that no matter how tired I am, if I don’t take a pill you can guarantee I will still be awake for sunrise.

I think the lack of real sleep and not drug induced sleep has taken a serious toll on me. I can’t concentrate or think. I look like something the cat dragged in half the time and I usually have little or nothing of consequence to say (which is another reason my poor blog has been so neglected lately).

So if the powers that be would kindly allow me to get some sleep without Lunesta, I will be eternally grateful.