» Friday, June 18, 2004

Saturday was Ranjit's birthday, and I spent the weekend in Brooklyn, singing creative new birthday songs (happy birthday to you, you brunched with a Jew, etc. etc.) The weather was perfect and the animals at the Bronx Zoo were very happy to see us. Especially the tiger who came up to the glass, turned tail, and sprayed. That was a special treat.

On Sunday we broke out the new silk screen and made t-shirts featuring French Surrealist visual puns, because we are huge, huge dorks. I am wearing mine today, and every time I have to explain it, I feel like a bigger loser. Here it is:

You have to admit, as French Surrealist visual puns go, it's pretty funny. We collaborated on Ceci-n'est-passing, but the peep idea was all Ranjit's. But the design was mine! The font was lifted right from the Magritte painting!

That's not making me look any cooler, is it?

Anyway, we were very crafty -- you can also see pictures of the quilt I made for his present at the Dramatic Comedy. It was a good, arty weekend, and I am itchy for the next big project. Luckily, I'm flying to Milwaukee tomorrow to start one. What could I possibly be doing in Milwaukee, you ask. I CAN'T TELL YOU.

» Friday, June 11, 2004

Three Questions by Karen, Three Answers by Me

1.How do you stop hiccups?

Frankly, I don't. I only get hiccups when I'm laughing too hard, and I find they lend a special something extra to the mirth. You might find my position unusual, but consider Charles Osborne of Anthon, Iowa for a moment. He hiccupped nonstop for 68 years. According to the Guinness World Records, "During the first few decades, he hiccupped up to 40 times a minute, slowing to 20 a minute in later years. He finally stopped in 1990... and died the following year." He stopped hiccupping and he died. I want to LIVE!

On a related note, people who spell the aforementioned word "hiccoughs" are sick, sick little monkeys... not to put too fine a point on it.

2.You wake up in a dark room that has no apparent doors or windows. You don't know how you got there, and there's no way out. In three words, how do you feel?

Frozen. Mute. Horrified-that-you-even-planted-this-scenario-in-my-head-you-devil.

3.If you could wrestle anyone, who would it be? And what medium would you wrestle in? (jello, mud, pudding, etc.)

Do you remember Glomer from the erstwhile cartoon disaster that was Punky Brewster? Man, I hate that thing. I want to kick every inch of his ass. And forget medium, I will end him anywhere, anytime. But I guess a little pudding wouldn't hurt. You know, for if I get hungry after.

» Friday, June 04, 2004

When I was very young, I had a rocking horse named "Colorful, or Lips the Llama". Not one or the other, always both. It was understood (by me) that Colorful was his horse name, and though he clearly was a horse, I was unwilling to conform and commit. I wanted to cover all the bases.

I have written him an ode. Here it is:

Colorful or Lips the Llama:
rockingthing when I was small.
Plastic hollow, smelled of Barbie,
Pastel splattered, 2 feet tall.

Llamaful or genus dama,
equine, bovine, ursinal —
I never asked him what he was;
It seemed to me too personal.