Just Wondering

I visit a lot of art blogs because I fancy myself and someday-soon-artist. Anyway, I've noticed a lot of people posting sketches from their classes and private studies and it got me to wondering, artist friends...

Do you really think that nude model expected you to post your very life-like sketch of her - love handles, nipples, nethers and all - on your art blog?

Don't get me wrong, it is an excellent sketch. But I never expected to see grandma looking like that. And something tells grandma didn't expect it either.

ps. Very nice job with the oxygen tank.

Q

I had a V8 for lunch. They are nutritious and low on calories. They are not particularly “yummy,” but you can learn to like them.

Now I am chewing some Trident Watermelon Twist. It is fruity and good for your teeth.

Anyway, I just burped and for a short moment my mouth was filled with the taste of V8 and watermelon. Not as bad as you might imagine.

Today’s post has been brought to you by V8 and Trident. And by the letter Q.



Q

Just a few things

So you know I am a Reversi addict. If I play even one game... it's a bad scene. I just have to never play again. Each day is a new day.


Why is it that men are not concerned with showing their panty line? Men... if you are going to wear slacks that are too tight for your cartoon caboose then you might want to consider boxers. Or going commando. Though I hope you choose the former. Or better yet you might want to buy pants that fit. Perhaps someday some cutting edge textile manufacturer will make seamless, lace underwear for men. Until then, cut back on the helpings and in a couple of weeks those pants won’t be quite so snug.


By the way Mrs. Secretary in the office next-door, Lysol is not an air freshener. I understand that someone down the hall just microwaved a fish sandwich and now the whole floor smells like chum, but you are doing nobody any favors by emptying your entire can of Lysol into the air. I almost died. I may still. I think I've been poisoned.

I miss you guys.

Remember back in the day when we used to hang out a lot? Those were great times. I'd tell funny stories and you would laugh. Then I would laugh. And then you'd laugh harder. And you'd get to laughing so hard that you'd fart a little. And it would smell kinda bad and we'd laugh even more. Then you'd blame the smell on me and I'd get mad and say if I had farted it would have smelled different. And so I'd try and prove it by farting, but I'd have no desire to really fart. So I push and push and until my face got red. And finally I would poop a little in my pants and it would surprise me so much that let go of all of that air and I'd release a big snot bubble that would pop all over my face. And you'd spend the rest of the day pointing and laughing at the brown circle on the seat of my white shorts and calling me bubble boy. And I'd call my therapist and through stuttering sobs and tears I'd schedule a month of sessions, with you wonderful people in the background laughing. And my therapist would say you guys were "bad for my self esteem" and she'd suggest I stop hanging out with you. And so I'd stop answering your calls and over the months I'd start to forget about the pain. And eventually all I'd have left are the good times.

I miss you guys.