The Lament of the Fancy Hamster

Several weeks back I was out on a date…with my five-year-old son, who is pretty much an excellent date because we always do whatever I want and there’s never that awkward moment where both of you reach for the check and you have to pretend like you actually want to pay for shit, but admittedly that’s mostly because we shoplift whenever possible.

First we went to Starbucks because I had gift cards and you can bet your sweet buns that my broke ass does not go to Starbucks unless someone else is paying for it…or maybe if it were a rioting/looting kind of situation but even then I would probably go to the jewelry store (higher black market resale value) or the bookstore (I am an enormous nerd) before I went to Starbucks but I guess if I got really thirsty after all the looting and rioting I would definitely go to Starbucks to loot some passion tea lemonade  and a couple of those petite vanilla bean scones or something because I am certainly not going to loot a small, independently owned coffee shop because, obviously, I have morals!

At Starbucks Bo had his usual, hot chocolate (where are we on needlessly abbreviating hot chocolate to HoCho ala FroYo? Let’s make it a thing!) and a heated croissant and I mine; iced americano, black. After Starbucks we decided to go to Uwajimaya because I thought it might be fun to look at live crabs and squid and origami sets and the dead eyes of so many Hello Kitties. But as we walked across the shopping center towards Uwajimaya we were sidetracked by Blue Sierra Pet Store!!! And it was the best thing EVER!!!!

It was basically like going to the Zoo except so much more awesome. Right when we walked in the first thing we see are BUNNIES! BUNNIES EVERYWHERE!!!! And as if that weren’t enough a nice young lady comes up and asks “Would you like to hold one of the bunnies?” and I’m like “FUCK YES, I WANNA HOLD ONE!” Except I didn’t say that, not out loud anyway but I said it with every vibrating cell in body. So within 12 seconds of walking into this place I was being handed adorable, fluffy bunnies….and I was HOME! After bunny fondling time was over (and admittedly I went back several more times because I had to try out ALL the bunnies…or at least the amiable ones that would have me) we went to look at the aquarium section wherein Bo loudly declared that everything we saw was either an electric eel or a “mutant megalodon shark” and while I am certain we did not see a mutant or even a non-mutant megalodon shark they legit had a motherfucking electric eel and I almost peed my pants! I was super excited about it….I think Bo was marginally unimpressed, which can happen sometimes when you meet your heroes and they don’t live up to your expectations.

What Bo WAS super excited about were the tarantulas. Like I said, this was several many weeks ago when he was super obsessed with this movie he found on Netflix (while surfing around unsupervised because, obviously, I am a horrible parent) called “Big Ass Spider”. Luckily he cannot read and I convinced him that the name of the movie was “Big Ol’ Spider”. The movie is one of those cheesy made-for-SyFy Channel type things like “Dino-Croc” or “Octoprechaun” (some say it’s half Leprechaun half octopus…others say it’s more of a 70/30 split), or “Vampodile” (clearly about a vampiric crocodile who is also GIANT and probably a robot, of course) or “The Hunt for the Mutant Weresquid” (which I would TOTALLY watch the shit out of if someone were to actually make) or (this is the last one, I swear) “Frankenweasel”. In any case, I watched this movie with Bo (despite my keen, irrational and downright psychotic fear of spiders) and it was pretty good. It had some gross but mostly cartoonish violence in it, what with the giant Black Widow rampaging through downtown L.A., stabbing people with its legs and ensnaring them in its sticky web, no language (that he doesn’t regularly hear at home), no nudity and it was actually pretty funny so I let him watch it and, predictably, it became the ONLY thing he wanted to watch for a solid 3 weeks. He became enthralled with spiders which led to my getting him a bunch of books on spiders which I then had to force myself to read to him. But through Bo’s infatuation I was able to relax a little on the spider issue; it became easier for me to look at pictures of spiders and my formerly unreasonable phobia was tempering…slightly.

Walking around the pet store and unwittingly wandering into one particular corner only to realize that you are actually surrounded by tarantulas was NOT making me feel all that reasonable regarding my phobia but I played it cool. I wanted to run the other way whilst doing that thing where all your limbs shake, you wildly flail your arms about your head clawing at your hair and skin, screaming “GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!”. But I did not do that. I lifted Bo up so he could see into all the little terrariums and check out all the spiders. He thought it was all pretty cool for about 3 minutes which is as long as he can sustain enthusiasm for any one thing.

After looking at the spiders I went back to the bunny area because I needed a fluffy bunny palate cleanser. Then it was on to the rodents and that’s where I saw this:

FANCY HAMPSTER

Sorry about the shitty picture. I did not have my picture-taking phone on me at the time, just my phone that can actually make calls….at least when I pay the bill.

As one might imagine, I got pretty excited when I saw this, but as I peered into the hamster enclosure all I saw was a regular hamster. There was literally NOTHING fancy about him (or her, I didn’t check). But honestly, how does one differentiate fancy hamsters from those that are non-fancy? This was a question I pondered well into that evening. Bottom line, when someone tells me a hamster is “fancy” there are a few things I expect to see so I made an example of what I think a “Fancy Hamster” should look like. See below:

The Fanciest of Hamsters

THIS, THIS IS WHAT I EXPECT when promised a “fancy hamster”! A hamster wearing a red, velvet cape, bowtie, monacle and top hat, sipping brandy and posing with his fancy walking stick and his prize-winning thoroughbred racehorse, Princess Butterscotch Mittenhaus III, next to an open box of Cohibas and a bottle of the world’s most expensive champagne while the library of the Hearst Castle! IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?!?!? I think not!

Undoubtedly, THAT is the fanciest of hamsters. They did not have any like this one at the pet store, presumably because he kept spilling his snifter of brandy every time he tried to take in onto his gilded hamster wheel and his miniature Cohibas and Armand de Brignac kept getting stolen from his cage and they could not afford to keep replacing them because Cohibas and Armand de Brignac are super expensive, even when they are hamster-sized.

All in all, despite the tarantulas and dearth of fanciness in the hamster department, Bo and I had a lovely time at the pet store and we cannot wait to go back…and save the $14.00 they charge you to get into the goddamn zoo these days! Also, I cannot remember that last time I went to the zoo and someone just handed me a bunny rabbit, SO THERE ZOO! SUCK IT!!!

I wanted to leave you with this. This is the opening 130 seconds of “Big Ass Spider” set to Storm Large’s cover of the Pixie’s “Where is my Mind” and it is motherfucking SUBLIME! Enjoy! XOXO

A Little Thing

My Dad’s memorial/wake/celebration of life thingy was yesterday (I started this on Sunday so “yesterday” was actually Saturday) and I wrote a little speech thing to kind of get the sharing ball rolling:

“I write a humor blog and when I have had the occasion, in the past, to do live readings I usually start off by talking about one of my greatest inspirations; my Dad. Those of you that knew him well, knew him peripherally or just stood in the same room with him for any length of time whatsoever, knew that Scott was rude, crude, crass, foul, vulgar, uncouth, tactless, classless, tasteless, coarse, obscene, profane, blue, purple and perhaps even off-color. Scott wove cussing into every day discourse with the stealth of a ninja and the precision of a surgeon. He loved dirty jokes. In fact when I was 6 he taught me a joke, the meaning of which I was totally unable to grasp until I was a little bit older but that did not stop me from sharing it with everyone at the family reunion that Summer. Here it is; What do a 747 and a peroxide blonde have in common? They both have a black box (pauses for laughter). At 6 years old I genuinely thought I understood this joke in that I believed that the black box that the bleach blonde had, referred to the box in which her hair dye came from the store…turns out I was wrong about that. 

The story I usually tell people about Dad is so inappropriate that I almost don’t want to share it today….almost. [BOAT STORY]
(This was actually copied directly from my notes wherein I did not write out the boat story. And no, I will not write out the boat story. I tell it at the beginning of nearly every live reading I have ever done, so chances are a lot of you have heard it. It would also lose something in print because if you cannot hear it in Scott’s voice [which, of course, at this point is impossible] you should at least hear it told with my impression of Scott. It would be no good in print…and also I don’t want anymore hate mail this week. Long story still pretty long, if you want to hear the boat story you have to come see me read…or just bump into me in line at the grocery store; I’ll totally tell it to you there)
My Dad taught me that it was better to laugh first, and last and every occasion in between. I am deeply blessed to have his wonderful sense of humor as well as his high tolerance for alcohol, his impossibly Scandinavian whiteness, his love for having fun, being outside, setting things on fire, camping, fishing, star-gazing, rivers, beaches, animals, loud music, laughter, dancing (not well, but dancing nonetheless), drinking, eating, and bullshitting. I think one of things I admired most about Scott was that he could make friends with anyone, and often did, as we can very well see looking around here today. Thank you all so much for coming, and I hope we can all share some wonderful memories and celebrate a man for whom we all cared very deeply and who cared very deeply for all of us. 
Sharing Scott’s love with all of you has served only to grow it, not incrementally but exponentially. Scott always had room for one more, at his table, in his home, in his heart whether you were human, canine, feline or my old roommate Rob’s rabbit that he didn’t want anymore, Scott would welcome you. And for those who would say that his passing so early on in life is a tragedy that could have been prevented; prevented with prudence or moderation to them I would say that there are those of us who would prefer to live our OWN life as opposed to a LONG life by someone else’s rules. Thank you!”
It was an awesome day! A difficult, nerve-wracking, heart-wrenching, confusing, sorrowful, unforgettable, awesome day and I really, really, really appreciate everyone who came out to show their love for Scotty. Everyone who laughed and cried and drank and shared, you made my day and I am sure a lot of others’ day as well. A few “thank yous” and “shouts out” to people who went above and beyond the make the day not only bearable but actually pretty darn okay:
I wanted to thank Skyler Cesarone for the beer, albeit Scott would never have touched an IPA I was very grateful, as I am sure most attendees were, that everyone could come together and raise a glass in Scott’s honor. Thank you so very much! Also, it was great catching up!
Sharon Lambert, I know you’ll never read this which is why I feel free to say that while I am fully aware that your eagerness to host my Father’s wake was not entirely egalitarian I nonetheless thank you so much for your hospitality, your reaching out to make the day possible and above all, your friendship with my Father which I know he valued a great deal. Also, I will be by later on tonight to pick up my Mom’s coat. See you then!
Those Pedersen Women, all of whom have married names now, and all of whom are my Sisters-in-law and for that I count myself amongst the luckiest gals alive. Thank you all for seeing that glazed look of confusion and uselessness in my eyes and knowing that it was your time to shine. When I could not handle it all three of you knew exactly when and how to take charge. You are a blessing to me and to everyone who knows you, of that I am sure!!!
Thank you to everyone who stepped up to share a story! I am sorry if there were any that I missed while I was out back sobbing in the horseshoe pit.
I know that just because we had a memorial does not mean that memorializing or remembering is over. It does help me, in the broader scope of things, to start to move on if such a thing can be done, but I will be celebrating Scott’s life every day for the rest of mine! I love you, Daddy! I miss you more than I can aptly express and I just hope that you are comfortable and happy and proud, wherever you are! XOXO

These ARE My Good Pants

OMGOMGOMG! I super hate people so much! But, if I’m being honest it’s my fault, not theirs. I should know better than to hang out in places where I will encounter the continually bewildering stupidity of humans. This is why I avoid comment sections on the the internet, Insane Clown Posse concerts, the post office or anywhere else that the rules are not universally known because no one has actually given enough of a shit to lay them out so that people can STOP looking so fucking stupid. But, sometimes you have to mail a package, sometimes you accidentally get black-out drunk and wake up in New Jersey with a bunch of Juggalos, and sometimes, not always, but sometimes you accidentally scroll too far down the page and your eyes land on the comment section of a blog you were reading….AND IT IS A GODDAMN TRAVESTY!

So, (drink) I was reading a post by brilliant blogger, Insane in the Mom Brain. I would totally bang her mind if that were a thing we could do outside of the Matrix. But it would kind of just be like I were masturbating because I am convinced we share a brain. Anyhoo, it was a post from a few years back about how it’s hard being a Mom (duh!) and sometimes it’s REALLY hard to wear pants (double duh! And how badly do I wish I had written that bit about the “low unicorn”?). When I was done reading the post and done changing my pants because I had peed them from laughing too hard (one of the many unfortunate side effects of motherhood) I scrolled down to see if there was a link to her bio and that’s when I saw them….the comments. They were just sitting there, looking all innocent but then (why, god, why?) I started to skim a few of them and for the most part they were all positive, sympathetic, and well-worded (which is highly unusual for the internet) but, of course, the one that stuck in my craw was one that said “You need to get organized and delegate” and then went on to suggest that Patti enslave her barely school-age children. Okay, it’s possible that I am exaggerating. But I do have a totally solid point to make, not only about this commenter but the ridiculous point he or she was trying to make which I will lay out in this bulleted list!

  • Read the room! This is obviously a humor blog! I would suspect that in many cases, on Patti’s blog, as well as my own, hyperbole is employed in order to get laughs. We are not idiots; we know that if we don’t want our kids in the bathroom we can just lock the door, unless we can’t because we had to take the locks off because our 4 year old kept locking himself in there and emptying the all the shampoo bottles into the toilet and then flushing it causing a gigantic tower of suds to rise out of the toilet like a fluffy, white fourth of July snake. But it’s a lot funnier to talk about how my son comes into the bathroom and says creepy things to me like “I want to watch you pee….but I am going to pretend your vagina is a penis” than to say “My son liked to follow me into the bathroom so I started to lock the door behind me and now he can’t do that anymore.” You see the difference?
  • No, not everyone can “get organized” (just like not everyone, namely you, commenter, can grasp the proper use of grammar and implementation of sentence structure)! I love it when people make it seem like everyone should be as equally capable in all things as everyone else. Telling someone like me, for instance, to “just get organized” would be tantamount to telling someone like Mozart to “just go rebuild that diesel engine”. Just because a person is an intelligent human who appears capable in many facets of life does not mean that they possess the talent or inclination towards any and ALL facets of life. I think telling some people to “just get organized” is just as feasible as walking up to another person and saying “just paint me a stunning landscape in watercolors” or “just make me some seared duck breast with a nice shallot and Gran Marnier sauce” or “just write me a symphony” or “just design me some software” or “just sew me a quilt” or “just knit me a sweater” but you get the idea. “Getting organized” is just not as easy for some as it is for others. In the meantime I will paint you a landscape and sear you a duck breast and design your new tattoo and sing you a song and and bake you delicious cookies but you can bet your ass my house will probably be a wreck while I do those things. Because while some things come very naturally to me, others do not.
  • “You have to delegate”. I understand that this person was assuming that Patti is married with a perfectly capable husband who can help out with things like laundry and fixing the locks on the bathroom door. But I am here to remind the commenter that not everyone has the luxury (I stand by that term) of living in a two-parent household. I am a single Mother. While I have a very eager and loving partner whom I adore and my son adores he is not the Father of my child. There are certain things, as a parent, you would just never ask of someone who is not the parent of your child and certainly things you would just never ask of any non-parent. That’s just basic human decency but we’re getting off track because I am aware that I am the outlier according to a person who assumes all households are made up of two equally involved and invested adults and no one ever decides that they just don’t want to be a parent anymore because heroin suddenly became MUCH more interesting than their 3 year old son….Oh shit! So that just slipped out….
  • “If your child is old enough to go to school they can do their own (and your) laundry.”
    BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Is this person for real? Do they even have kids? Have they ever met a kid? I totally get that back in the olden days as soon as a child could walk it was sent out to the barn to start milking the cows. I fully support this ideology and, trust me, if I had cattle I would be all over that shit. But it is an ideology and that is to say that it is not always based in or supported by facts or reality. Back in the olden days, when three year olds were milking cows, parents didn’t go to work. You think they dropped their kid off at Olden Days Prairie Daycare where their kids were taught how to churn butter and grind wheat and polish saddle leather? No, they were not. They grew up watching their parents do those things everyday because home WAS work. Nowadays we run back and forth, we commute, we have jobs away from our homes and our children and we are usually doing our laundry after those children are in bed, so chances are they have not watched us load the washing machine every day of their life since birth. I am all for kids helping out around the house. Shit, if mine doesn’t start learning how to vacuum sometime soon I am probably just gonna leave him on the neighbor’s doorstep in the middle of night and cross my fingers that he cannot find his way back home and/or is cute enough that they decide to keep him. At least until they realize he doesn’t do windows and then they will bring him back because they totally know it was me who left him there in the first place because even though I was wearing a hat their security cameras clearly caught someone on tape wearing a hot pink hoodie that read “I tried to be good but there were so many other options!” across the back, leaving a five year old on their doorstep and yes, I am aware of the felicitous nature of the hoodie’s slogan and how it relates to my deeds. Also, the previous statements were an example of comedic hyperbole. I don’t actually plan on abandoning my son on the neighbor’s doorstep, at least not today, while it’s still light out, but mark my words, little man, DON’T FUCKING TEST ME!
  • Not all kids who “go to school” are old enough to go to school. I have been taking my son to “school” in one form or another for nearly two years but he is still not old enough to go to kindergarten. Just because a mom says she’s “taking the kids to school” doesn’t necessarily mean that those children in question are old enough to shear sheep or do your taxes. I probably would not trust my own son with a pair of industrial grooming shears or my W-2 for at least another year or so.

It would be awesome if people thought before they opened their big, stupid, mouths but that’s sort of like asking the magic genie of the lamp to grant you more wishes; it just ain’t gonna happen no matter how hard rub or how many curses you scream at the genie. People are always going to presume that THEY know what is best for everyone else whether they know anything about their situation or not because people are basically assholes. Just remember, though, the next time you feel compelled to criticize someone on their sloppy appearance or suggest to someone that they “just get organized”, they might just punch you in the neck and tell you to go eat a dick in your goddamn Lulu Lemon yoga pants and you will, at that point, totally deserve it. XOXO

Also, I am just gonna leave this here for anyone who wants to tell me (or anyone for that matter) what kind of clothes I should wear or how my desk, living room, car, bank account, or bedroom should or could look if I “just get organized”!

Dear Kelli, You are Internetting Wrong

I just noticed this post to the Facebook page from nearly two weeks ago; our good friend Kelli has struck again because I think she might be bored or a glutton for punishment or, after reading her bizarre, error-laden and nonsensical tirades I am leaning towards, just super high on drugs. I guess she saw that I published her comments that she made (publicly) regarding the death of my father and I am guessing she recognized her Facebook profile pic in some of the screen shots I used because I don’t think “words” are really her thing. In any case here’s….whatever the fuck this is:

screenshot1

screenshot2

Okay, where to begin; I am guessing the “threats” and the “private co[n]vo (?)” to which she is referring were actually made by/had with someone else that Kelli is currently arguing with on the internet because I published every word that I wrote to her (I even wrote about how she wouldn’t let me write anything else to her; “I did, however, try to write back to Kelli, just to ask her if she was a robot but her messenger account informed me that “this user is not currently accepting messages from you at this time”)…..because I am not ashamed of the things I say to other people, even when I totally should be. Last I checked, suggesting that someone had magical life-giving abilities that protect those around them from mortality does not count as a “threat”, but then again I have not looked the word up in the dictionary in a few weeks so I admit that I may need a refresher course. But I am guessing that this thing happens all the time to people like Kelli; I think she’s easily confused and has trouble with “facts”…and the proper placement of vowels(I just wanted to be sure that everyone could hear the sarcastic air quotes around that).
Although I am positive that the Renton Police department have me well on their radar I doubt it has anything to do with this blog or with defamation (which Kelli totally spelled correctly, big hand for her) or with Kelli. Disorderly conduct, shoplifting, public indecency, jaywalking, public intoxication, failure to yield; probably one of those. I would also like to point out that Kelli claims to know me (from Delancy’s (?) one of the few bars in Renton to which I have actually never been…SWING AND A MISS!) but I think we can all agree that if Kelli really knew me she would not have chosen the word “narrow” to describe my ass. For my ass might be many things; narrow is emphatically not one of them. As for Kelli’s being a disabled veteran, I thank her for her service and for her sacrifice. Your brave and noble service to your country, however, does not make you above any and all scrutiny regarding your conduct. Doing something good once or even for decades does not “buy you a pass” to treat others poorly. Goodness and decency (at least this is what I have heard because I am obviously out of my depth here) are not stored up in a bank or on one side of a scale just waiting to be balanced out with your shitty behavior; they just exist inside of you…well maybe not YOU but some people, for sure.
Remember, Kelli, you are the one who saw a person suffering and chose to kick them while they were down and then ran away from your words as soon as someone (not even me) called you out on your rudeness. I understand that some people just HAVE TO have an opinion about EVERYTHING they actually take the time to skim while sitting on the toilet. That’s just the way some humans are. I also understand that not everyone is capable of realizing that their opinions were unpopular and just shrugging off the whole experience. Some people need to feel like they are accomplishing something great or changing minds or at the very least scaring people by making strange and confusing claims about “dragging [my] narrow ass (still giggling) into court”. And I am here to tell Kelli that she is, in fact, totally accomplishing something great by continuing our befuddling and, at times, contentious relationship: I sat down at the computer and thought “What the fuck am I going to write about?” Then I saw Kelli’s posts and I was like “Shit Yeah! I ain’t gotta do shit ’cause this loopy bitch is giving me GOLD!” I figure if we can keep this up I won’t have to do ANY real, actual work, and y’all can just read the Kelli Brown Blog!
Also, (drink) I just wanted to say that I LOVE how she wrote these posts, at 5:00 am, as if she were addressing “the masses”…yeah all the many masses of people who read this blog! Also, also, I hate to burst Kelli’s bubble but no one can see her posts unless I choose to share them, WHICH I TOTALLY DID!
I love you guys all so very much! Thanks for making things wonderful, even you, Kelli! Remember to be kind to one another even when it’s the more difficult choice…or not. Do whatever you want, I’ll always accept you but mostly because my expectations regarding human behavior are remarkably low. XOXO

The Often Confusing and Terrifying World of Stock Images

I figured we all (an by “we all” I mean me) could use a break from all the “my Dad’s dead” monotony, plus I wrote this right before I got the first call from the hospital so I pretty much did not have to do anything which is how I like things. Enjoy!

So (drink), in my other life I am a graphic designer which makes me sound more important or more educated or more grown up than I actually am. In reality I make ads for newspapers which is actually a lot of fun. I get to play with art and make things and play with typography and really what more could an artsy, word-loving, font nerd want out of life? More money, that’s what….but that is not my point although I do totally have one, I swear.

In our various peregrinations as graphic artists we look at a ton of art, stock photography, vector images, clipart etc. each and every day. And sometimes we find exactly what we are looking for and other times we find so much more than we set out to find! Which is why I decided to make a special folder at work, on one of our servers, where the whole creative team in my office could drop pictures they found that were more curiosity than anything else: Images so horrifying, poorly executed, head-scratchingly vexing, and downright ugly that they defy reason and imagination! I made a “Horrible Stock Art” folder and, if I ever get off my lazy ass, am totally going to make a Tumblr out of all the terrifying things in there. The best part is that with 16 artist working in one creative hub, new stuff gets downloaded every day!

In the meantime I decided it would be fun to share some of the images here!
*Crowd Roars*
So here are some of them in all their bizarre, tacky, irrelevant glory! Enjoy!

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Admittedly, when I first looked at this I thought it was a real person just wearing a super creepy mask but no, it’s a statue…smoking a cigar, because why the fuck not!

 

dv755043

You should see the picture of him before meth.

 

Its called presenting

It’s called “presenting”. 

 

is he smelling her crotch

Is he smelling her crotch? 

 

i have no words

I have no words… I really don’t. Or maybe I am just saving them for a worse picture than this one, if that is at all possible.

 

OMG is that a discman

HOLY FUCK! Is that a discman?

 

wax martha graham

I know this is supposed to look like Martha Graham but it kind of just looks like the wax statue of an awkward Carol Burnett in the process of melting.

 

this monk knows how to party

This monk knows how to jam out…either that or he’s putting out an imaginary fire.

 

scary clown drag queen ballarino

I call ’em like I see ’em…and here I see a scary drag queen clown ballerino.

 

i madethis in Paint for you_mom

“LOOK MOM! I made this for you in Paint!”

 

I have no idea for what scenario this would be appropriate

I have no idea for what scenario this image would be appropriate.

 

DancingManCar3HC1102_X_th_C

And here we have a headless man romancing an anthropomorphic female car!

 

bells palsy ballarina

And this is a ballerina and her tremendously severe case of bells palsy.

 

axe dog

????

 

thisWILLhurtabit

This WILL hurt a bit.

c3dbfc552ffc4528f8ff41f970ea88d6

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?

thug life

#ThugLife

 

twogreattastesthattastegreattogether

Now THAT is my kind of Doctor!

 

stock-vector-strange-and-horrible-girl-illustration-with-diamond-sketch-art-tattoo-333274838

And you thought YOUR kidney stones were a bitch!

 

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A one-eyed butcher or blackjack dealer flashing “East Side” while listening to an abacus.

 

underwater nun

I am super confused right now.

 

WHAT_THE

NOM NOM NOM!

 

yum gasoline

This seems like a perfectly reasonable thing although, if she still has beer left why has she already switched to gasoline? 

 

This baby looks like Vic Mackey

This baby looks exactly like Vic Mackey!

 

thefutureiscorn

THE FUTURE IS CORN!!!

 

Terrible Snowman 465052944

I have never felt this much pity for a snowman before. Everyone knows the pointy end of the carrot faces out! What the fuck is wrong with society? 

 

the murderer

This bitch is all, “Yep, I killed him! What the fuck are you going to do about it?”

 

STOPLOOKINGATME

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, STOP LOOKING AT ME!

 

sociopath

I have so many questions: what did that fish ever do to her? Why is she so happy about killing that fish and probably losing a digit in the process? Is that Bridget Fonda? Is she cosplaying “Reservoir Dogs”?

 

infants and champagne

“Join us for the further adventures of Drunk Baby! In his next adventure he gets taken away by CPS!”

 

ishedeathorjesus

Is that supposed to be Death or Jesus? I legitimately want to know the answer to this.

 

Title

This baby LOVES rat poison and also looks like River Phoenix from “Stand By Me”.

 

mommyslittlearsonist

Mommy’s little arsonist!

 

Mr. Princess

Okay, I supposed this could be explained if he were a mayor and his last name was actually Princess. 

 

shrunkenheaddoctor

I am not sure why this doctor has a shrunken head…either that or he’s borrowed the suit that David Byrne wore in “Stop Making Sense”. And for the love of all that is holy, please put down the Goddamn baby and walk away slowly! 

I have an excellent caption for this

“Oh-Em-Gee, Guys! Look how much fun we’re having! Or at least that’s how it will look when I post this to Instagram!” Also, one of those dudes is getting REAL lucky this new year’s eve. Also, also it just occurred to me that those people are probably all related, or at least were all made in the same factory…you know, the one that made Taylor Swift.

 

I am plotting your eventual murder

Man’s thought: “I am plotting your eventual murder.” Woman’s thought: “There’s just no ‘right time’ to tell him he’s not the father.”

 

deer god

Deer God!

 

Title

THIS! This makes me super uncomfortable. It’s just so creepy on so many levels; she’s clearly supposed to be his daughter but he is awkwardly embracing her mid-section as if she were pregnant with his child….also, she’s like 10.

 

Title

It says “Sick Cookie” (which, on its own totally makes perfect sense, right?) but all I see is a sick meatball.

 

cake pillow

Okay, this actually seems like a perfectly reasonable thing to do….for those of us who would like to have a constant supply of cake in our bed, right next to our mouth.

 

 

BabyNewYear05_X_th_C

Ladies and Gentlemen, in this evening’s performance Baby New Year will be played by Ralph Kramden!

 

BabyNewYear10_X_th_C

Okay, presumably if you are looking through stock images to place in advertisements you are an artist and as an artist you would clearly know that this, as art, is a steaming pile of shit.

 

Caesar Cruz once said that “art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable”. Frankly I am not sure which of those I started out as but I am definitely disturbed now and none of these are comforting me AT ALL!

What really blows my mind is not how much bizarre stock photography we find but how much really, truly awful artwork. Why, for the love of Jebus, would anyone whose job title included the word “artist” use something that looked like it was made by a moderately talented German Shepard using the 1985 version of Paintbrush Pro? Particularly when most of us could make something 30 times less crappy in a matter of minutes? I’ll tell you why, because laziness and we don’t get paid enough to care. I hope this made you laugh or at least wonder how someone could go their entire life without being taught how to properly assemble a snowman. XOXO