Thursday, February 12, 2009


I've been trying to make a really serious painting about an adorable pack of wolves that are ferociously defending a soup station in a Portland, OR food co-op.

I'm planning a tour for the end of March. When I say tour I may just mean Rumspringa.

On Sunday when I was doing
the Radio Show some girl called me at 1AM to ask me if I knew if she "was supposed to be on her friend's show tomorrow?" I knew of neither her, nor her friend, nor her friend's show so I was fairly unable to help.
"Maybe if you call your friend..." I said in that luxurious tone which implies she should have tried this first. Or get a Blackberry. Or like a piece of paper to write shit down on.

THEN a guy called the station at 2AM to ask me if I would mind looking around the station for some camera a girl he's trying to bang left there two days previous.
I put the phone down and shuffled some papers, "Nope, no camera."
"Well, can you look in my mailbox?" he said testily.
I put the phone down and transitioned into another song, "Nope, not in your mailbox either, dude."
"I didn't even tell you my name."
"Oh, I looked in allo'm."

If I could get the internet in my brain I bet I could stop being such a dick. All I need is Google Brain for easy searches and references.
I'd be like, "Honey! You're on the show tomorrow!" I'd stick my finger up my nose and say, "Oh that girl you want to do it with has been leaving videos of her half-naked self on this other guy's networking page. You may as well not bother. Hey! Half price Sonies at Newegg Bro! BRO! BRO ARE YOU THERE? I'M SEARCHING AND I CAN TELL YOU'RE ONLINE. PICK UP MY CHATS DUDE!!!!"

Please please let me get what I want this time. Lord knows it would be the first time.

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