Saturday, January 06, 2001

Had some huge, perfect rants all lined up in my head this afternoon, and now I hardly remember any of them, which is actually okay.

I _know_ what my problem is. It's simple: fear. Stupid fear, of a stupid thing or two.

Fear of taking first steps that lead toward something new. Fear of change, of an alteration in my fundamental underpinnings...

Of course, change doesn't always have to come with a 'for the worse' clause attached. You'd think, bright as I am, I'd know that by now. Guess I don't.

I'm old enough to know better. I'm old enough to be responsible for myself and my car, for other people, for money...

I'm old enough, -more- than old enough, to be in college and out of my mother's hair.

We had this quasi-argument last night about how I could possibly go to college while working the three jobs I'll need to afford it. She said, "you're bright, what about scholarships?" I said no. WHo would give -me- a scholarship? I'm not -special-. Scholarships go to people who are not pudgy, lazy, middlingly-upper-middle-class Anglo-Saxons. We're a flipping dime a dozen, you know?

She then told me she didn't tell me I was bright because she couldn't think of anything better to say. Yeah, but that's not the -point-. The point is that despite my brilliance, my GPA in highschool is NOT going to get me a scholarship.

Besides that, I don't even want to _go_ to college for anything beyond a few knowledge-base wideing classes. I don't wan't to take math or science (except maybe CompSci) or chemistry. I don't want to take classes that aren't all that related to my major, if only I knew what that would be....

I'm -bad- with goals. Really bad. I'm scared of changing myself, I'm afraid that no one will like me, and I don't even want to -try-. Everyone has heard the cynical adage that "trying is the first step to failure", right? Thanks, Homer.

In the last five years, my life has gone something like this:

"Can I love you?"
"No."

"Can you love me?"
"No."

"Can I be your friend?"
"No."

"Can I have a job?"
"Maybe. We'll call you."

"Has the position been filled?"
"Yes"
"Oh." They said they'd call...

So do you blame me for not wanting to try any more? Every fucking time I turn around, it's 'no'. "No, we won't hire you." "No, I don't love you like that. And you don't love me." (How the FUCK did he know something like that? How is it that he knows something I damn well -should-, seeing as it's my bloody heart and all? Damnit, I wish I'd gotten this mad about it _then_... Too fucking late now, I guess.)

But I don't want to hear 'no'. I don't want to hear it from scholarship committies, I don't want to hear it from potential mates of some stripe, I don't want to hear it from prospective employers.

I don't want to hear it from publishers, but that I could handle, I think -- I alreadt know my writing is weird and that there's probably little to no market for it.

I have another, better reason for not wanting to try college-and-work: I've done Poor and Impoverished. Been there, done that, got the scars. I've had it with P&I, fuck that shit, man. I ain't doing it ever, EVER again if I can help it.

But...

Mom wants me out of the house. She's sick of us kids, I know that. And I'm old enough to be on my own. Should have been out of here much sooner than _now_... But every time I housesit, it's... _This_ is home. Wherever mom is, that's home, and if I'm upset or scared or feeling sick, I can go home and it'll all be better.

Why am I such a big baby? I am so stupid, and such a big fucking _loser_. No wonder no one wants me, in any sense of the word. I can't do anything for myself. I'm as helpless as the big spoiled asshole babies I'm forced to be at least silent toward every day.

I hate them. Or rather, I'm beginning to hate them. I'm beginning to entertain _highly_ vivid, decidedly homicidal fantasies of grabbing a hold of the back of their head and their chin and just -twisting- until their necks make strange noises. I have to put my hands in my pockets so I don't slap people.

They don't respect me, and it's obvious. I want to hurt them for that. It hurts -me-, less-so than if they were making fun of me, but dammit, they're supposed to _listen_ to me. And I DON'T think that 'please don't slam the door' and 'please be quiet PARTICULARLY WHEN CLASS IS IN SESSION!!' are terribly impossible requests. Maybe I'll just start bugging them in five minute intervals, tapping on their headphones and walking away... Then feigning surprise and puzzlement when they ask me what I want. "Oh, nothing..."

This is probably a Very Bad Thing. But at least I'm controlling myself for now, and even managing to remain calm when I have to deal with them...

Gail is worried about me. She's afraid the anger will burn me out and that I'll leave her alone with them. *Snerk* Okay, so that was mean. I _like_ Gail. I -admire- her, and I would probably give up a lung and a kidney to have the same sort of rational calm that she does. She's a rock. It's hard to work with someone so awe-inducing as that...

But she is worried. And I know that I can't keep it bottled up, or I -will- burn out and have to go work in the library, reshelving books at night after everyone else goes home.

But. But. But... Why does every other sentence out of my mouth start with that word?

Because I'm scared and stupid, that's why.

Dyslexics are often late bloomers, with myself no exception. Hell, I played in the mud until I was fourteen, with barbies at 16, and now I'm being a stupid angsty teen ager, except that I'm too old. At least I outgrew the writing crappy poetry phase, and now write half-way decent stuff. (It helps that it's mostly slashy poetry about fictional characters or no-one in particular.)

I don't even know why I'm afraid. Probably because of the whole "No." argument outlined above.

I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't think I can go back to ECA next year. I don't have anyone to replace me, though, and that bothers me. I don't even have anyone I can train as my acolyte. I don't know what I want to study in college. I don't know what I can possibly _DO_ that pays me more than I currently make with the amount of experience I have, and the amount of education I have. One summer art course does not an impressive resumé build.

I don't know who'd give me, an unspecial little dork, money (real money, not just a thousand dollars... A thousand dollars is like, nothing, when it comes to schooling). I don't know who'd hire me, an uneducated and relatively inexperienced little dork. Correction: I forgot _funny-looking_. I've never asked, but if I ever apply for another job, I'm just going to flat out ask right off the bat. I'm not even going to bother with dressing up or being nervous... "Look, is this going to be a problem in considering me for the job? Because if so, I'll just get out of your hair now and you can tear up my application." Which won't win me any points for anything but honesty, of course, but damn am I fucking tired of "we'll call you" which actually means "forget it".

And I really must be annoyed (or exhausted, which is more likely), because my sentence structure is getting more and more elaborate. Or something.

Is it so much to ask that I be treated like I'm a normal, capable human being? We all know I'm neither normal nor totally capable, but I guess I'm not a total failure, and I want to be treated as if I'm worth just as much as the next person.

 

I don't know what to do. It's not my fault, I didn't ask for it, I'd probably gladly give up a kidney or a few toes to be rid of it and one-hundred-percent normal, but... Dammit, I'm me. I can't -change- how my body chemistry works, not in any total and permanent way. But what do I do? Smile? Wave? Glare? Ignore? Point and stare back? *Sniffly snerk* Damn tempting to walk right up to the next stupid kid that starts giggling at me, point at them, stare, then exclaim (loudly, of course) "Ohmigod! You look... Different! From ninety-nine percent of the human race! _WOW_. That's amazing!" And then walk off.

I could introduce myself. I could get cards made up and hand them out. I could make faces. I could write "I'm thinking the same thing about you." on a t-shirt and wear it everywhere. (Now _THAT_ has real potential.)

 

Had another idea -- get photo-cards made up, with my smiling face on the front and something like, "Here's a picture -- it lasts longer." on the back. Or maybe "I know you want me." On second thought, maybe not. "It's not contagious." "I really am a relatively nice person -- I won't disembowel you 'til the third date, promise!" "I want to have your kid." "You suck." "I hate people that smile at me." "The carpet matches the drapes, and the doilies, and the antimacassars, and the upholstry..." "Just think: at least you're not me." "And you thought -you- had problems."

So I'm bitter. Yeah. But I feel better, now.

Happy Things:

-- Radio FG. I understood, like, a good quarter of what the DJs/commercials were saying! Thank God for cognates. Maybe I _could_ hack a trip from Charles De Gaulle to Le Chez de Scrubby. (Which I probably mangled horribly...)

-- Due South slash, even if it's a little painful to read. It's funny... But more on this in a sec (1).

-- Sugar. More precisely, doughnuts. Dino's isn't Krispy Kreme, but this morning they were a perfect substitute. I want more (2).

-- A couple of perfectly-formed scenes, one DS, one M/V, popping into my head. I wrote them both down on post-its so I won't forget.

-- Sleeping in. Which I _finally_ get to do, tomorrow, and I probably _won't_ do. But I'll get up around 9, which is -definitely- later than 6.

-- Housesitting. I have a hundred bucks in my pocket that I'm probably going to turn around and spend tomorrow... But on _useful_ things, like pants. (Not all of it, but most of it. I'm somehow down to two pairs again.) And socks, and underwear. The basics, in other words.

-- National Geographic's article on the Imperial Palace, with beautiful pictures.

-- My art teacher offering to take me to lunch, and the fact that she thinks I have talent and potential. (That and _I_ can follow directions, am interested in the tasks she sets, and don't complain when I'm stymied by something. I -am- art-teacher's pet! *Snerk*)

-- The fact that I'm getting paid for being at school all day, four days a week, and for half-days on most Fridays. The fact that I'm being paid at all!

-- My computer is working.

-- My mother laughed at some funny things I wrote, and at some things, said by other people, that I wrote down.

-- No one called me up to point out that I left without telling anyone this morning. Oops.

-- We're getting DSL at school! *Bounce* We're dropping the Interjet like the 279/mo. load that it is and getting something faster _and_ cheaper! Yaaaaaay!

-- Seriously considering DSL for home use. It runs over twisted-pair (which I think is just a kick in the pants... That fast, over ordinary lines? -And- carrying data -and- voice? Yeesh.) Plus ACS will supply router, modem, and installation.

-- Hockey (3).

-- Sephora nail polish, in glittery red, purple, green and gold. Yum.

1) Due South writers, on the whole, seem to be better at their genere than say, BtVS fans. After being on the S/X list for a month or so, I can honestly say I have NEVER seen a bigger bunch of beta-readerless people posting utter dreck that -still- pulls in rave reviews. (And on-list feedback is _weird_. I don't like it at -all-) And I am so, so, so... Oh, I need to quit using that phrase. I want to post messages about commas (and their many fun uses); common syntax; how to use apostrophes, quotation marks, and other forms of punctuation; you know, the basic frigging -mechanics- of writing. How did these people -graduate?- Y'have to be at _least_ 18 to be on the list...

2) Sugar is a simple carbohydrate. If one denies one's body -any- kind of carbohydrates for any length of time, it is my belief that one's body reacts by craving carbohydrates of any kind. Simple ones are processed easily (hell, sugar's already almost glucose...) and converted into quickly expendable energy. So, if one starts on M&Ms and can't stop... It's only a theory. *Shrug* But what do I know, right?

3) While I'm slightly miffed about being one of four or five people in America that _understands_ and -accepts- the fact that yes, Mario Lemieux is indeed playing hockey again, and wants to watch something -besides- Pens games, I still really, really like the game. And the players, mostly. I could live without Matthew Barnaby getting into another fight.

G'night. It'll all look at least -different- in the morning, right?
Posted by: Shannon M.: 12:42 AM |

Victor wishes everyone a very merry Orthodox Christmas. *Gets a glower and a poke with a candycane* Obviously I'm not included in that list. *Snickers and pats him* Yes, dear. Go find Marc.

Posted by: Shannon M.: 8:44 PM |

Bought two pairs of new pants, new (fun!) undies, and more spiffy socks, yaaay! And I succombed to the siren song of T-shirts at Value Village and now have another grey Old Navy shirt (no truck, but it does have a pocket!), two plain white ones for putting slogans on, and a really neat Gothy black shirt with a picture of a statue and the words 'Warsaw, Poland' under it. The statue is a winged warrior in armor, and it looks rather Greek, actually.

Posted by: Shannon M.: 8:46 PM |

Hey! Sony Magazines, for the Nihonophile in all of us. *Blink* Oi, an article on Gravitation!

Posted by: Shannon M.: 8:47 PM |

I just had a close encounter of the unpleasant kind in Borders tonight... *Shudder* Okay, anyone who knows me well enough to be reading this already knows what kind of a mind I have. They also know that I'm not averse to kink and perversion, to a point.

So I'm standing in Borders, upstairs, and I catch sight of a neat-looking book about black women in their church hats. My -mother- and I are standing there, reading it, when this guy comes over to his friend (sitting in a chair in the psych section, minding his own business) and shows him something and starts carrying on about S&M and bondage. Friend is -not- into it but protests only mildly. As it's not -too- bad yet, I'm doing my best not to smirk or snicker or anything like that.

The guy goes away for a minute, and then comes back. -This- time, he's got more illustrations to share with Friend, and he's talking to Friend as if Friend is about five and learning the colors for the first time... "That's a Dom-i-nat-rix..." (He did -not- say "Can _you_ say 'dominatrix?' Gooood!, though.) Friend is still telling the guy that it's not his bag, and _then_ it got creepy-- Friend asked, "Is that what you're gonna do to those girls tonight?" and there was some discussion about wanting to know how to "do that kind of thing" on Creepy Guy's part, which is about when we left. Yuck, yuck, yuck...

I think we should have informed the management, but all we really wanted to do was get away. Eew...

I'm trying to figure out why it bothered me so much, 'cause normally BSDM doesn't faze me in the least (er, to a point, anyhow). I think it was the way the guy was talking about it, like he was into the whole Dom/Sadism side of things, and the non-consent part, too. Maybe it was that he didn't sound very trustworthy, and my take on BSDM is that you _have_ to be trustworthy in order to indulge in it. *Blink* I think that's it. He didn't sound too trustworthy or honorable or something and that's what set my alarms off.

Posted by: Shannon M.: 8:48 PM |

Wednesday, January 03, 2001

Nubbin. And Signal Vs. Noise.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 6:52 PM |

Mmph. I forgot to go to the bloody post office. *Fretfret* I have three options: go tomorrow, get a cab and go tonight, or call my mom and ask her to take me out to ANC International. I'm just going to have to wait 'til tomorrow, I think, 'cause I'm pretty sure my mom's going to be dead tired when she finally gets home (FDN, tonight) and cabs are spendy. Yiiiiish... *Quits making random noises*
Posted by: Shannon M.: 6:55 PM |

And Now Some Thoughts On Friends...

No, -real- friends, not the TV show. Um. I just... I don't necessarily -miss- her, not like I have this aching hole in my soul that can't be filled by anyone or anything, when I don't see her for a while. I don't fantasize about her (that would just be too, too... Outre? Awful? Not Good, anyhow.), I don't think longingly of the next moment we'll be together, and I certainly don't sit around and compose horrible poetry to or about her.

I do like her, though, a lot. And I never really realized how well we click (at least on most subjects) until yesterday afternoon on the way to her house, the two of us in the back seat yammering a mile a minute about things that we'd done/drawn/seen over the break. This afternoon, too, it was half similar to never having been apart, because our conversations flowed like they always do, but there was the definite rift of having spent two weeks among our own people. (I've missed a _lot_ of DragonBall Z... Cell is dead! Finally!) I don't know that I've smiled as much in the last couple of weeks as I have in the last couple of afternoons. And I _know_ I wasn't smiling very much at school today. But once she got in the car, it was uplift city.

And just before it was time to leave, I looked over to tell her about learning that 'muyo' is Japanese for 'useless', she was grinning and saying she knew, I'd already told her. It was just the same as always... I wanted to do -something-, touch her, hug her, kiss her... Tell her I love her. I didn't. Couldn't, can't, shouldn't... Probably never will.

I don't understand this, because usually when I'm head-over-heels/in the all-I-wanna-do-is-curl-up-in-your-lap-and-nibble-on-your-ear-for-the-next-three-to-six-months stage, I'm always thinking about/writing about the poor unfortunate object of my adoration. Yeah, I missed her a little, and yeah, I thought about calling her up, but other than that it was out of sight out of mind. Well, okay, so I dropped her Christmas presents off on Christmas Eve, but I was there for maybe ten minutes and we just kind of talked about Christmas.

The most annoying part of this is the whole age thing. I shoooooooooould be looking for people my own age (or at least _closer_ to it), but all I can think of is they're all awful. (Almost all of them -- Reesa's damn spiffy. *Grin*) That and I have no idea where to go to find anyone about my age, except for maybe bars or coffee shops, and even if I _did_ subject myself to either place, I'd never talk to anyone. *Blink* Okay, the most annoying part of all of this is my lack of will to change my own habits. *Snerk* I have so many solutions to my problems, If Only I Would... whatever. Grow A Spine comes to mind. I could, but I'd have to want to, and currently I don't want to.

I don't. I don't want to try to meet someone in my age group, I don't want to spend my free time hanging out in places I don't necessarily enjoy (I have to admit a certain fondness for coffee shops, mostly because I love the smell of coffee), I don't want to necessarily change the whole of my being. I think that the last part is the important part -- I don't want to change. I've tried the whole reching out to others thing, and it very rarely works for me. I've got a few friends, and so far, that's been enough.

In conclusion... Eh, I dunno. I'm just throwing this into the void again, and I'm thinking that I actually avoided whining overmuch. Yay me.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 7:34 PM |

Hee. Dack. And read Flash Is Evil, too.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 9:38 PM |

Tuesday, January 02, 2001

I'd forgotten about this picture of Grace asleep... Pretty.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 8:28 PM |

I'm not going to get the Chibi Marron-chan sticker. *Small frown* I went all the way up to ten dollars, but the proxy-bid that the other person set was still too high, and I don't think I can quite justify spending more than ten dollars on a sticker. But at least I tried, and I -did- win a cute Purin artbook. *Grin* _And_ I found the McFarlane version of Vash the Stampede! And for cheap!
Posted by: Shannon M.: 8:46 PM |

I can't think of anything else to say, except that I'm looking forward to June, and it's no longer because school will be out. *Grin* I think I better go check on ticket prices...
Posted by: Shannon M.: 9:05 PM |

Monday, January 01, 2001

So, we made it through to January of 2001. Yay us! *Grin* May this year be -leagues-- No. May this year be four or five billion Astronomical Units better than last, for everyone.

And to celebrate the new year, some new art! *Grin*
Posted by: Shannon M.: 12:24 AM |

Grace Dresses Up It's _hard_ to draw boas. And that thing on his bicep is supposed to be a Guild symbol tattoo, but I couldn't quite fill in all the spaces I needed to.

The Cast of Stealing The Spire ...mostly. Phitche Valentine is missing, though I -did- try to draw him... And Ko's glaring at me because he looks too femme. Oooops. *Snerk*

Long hair can be a real pain. So Kes decided to have something done with it.

...And he liked the results! This is done in colored pencil, and I _love_ the way it scanned.

Dythnaali kept his old hair.

Merry Christmas Hubie: Candycane Variant Which sounds like a chess move, but... Anyhow! Cheery black-and-white Hubert at a jaunty angle.

Merry Christmas Hubie: Colored Variant More colored pencils. I bought them Friday night and have been loving them. (Blitz brand 'color-tooning' pencils, in twelve colors, for the curious.) Not being able to stand having only twelve, I bought a Crayola 50-color box at WalMart this evening. *Grin*

Mercy and Grace, circa Stealing The Spire events. In crayon! Technical problems with this one are mostly the result of using crayons, as well as drawing on scrap paper. But I love the pose... They turned out so well! (er, I'm turning Mercy's hair platinum with reddish-black streaks, but I didn't have a dark red.)

Not your average monster... Er, this might not be for the squeamish, as it involves a happy little monster holding a couple of not-terribly-gross-and-graphic severed limbs. A request from a couple of ECA students, I had dialogue suggesting that it was enjoying munching on -them-. It was a hit, of course. I found this in a sketchbook that I'dleft in my scanner and then totally spaced.

Say 'Fort Laramie!' First in the Photobooth series! Drawn in crayon on a piece of scrap paper. Aren't they sweet?

Everyone needs antennae. A classic pose, rendered in more of Crayola's finest. (I dug up my crayons, too... *Grin* So I'm regressing! My art's improving, so... there?)

I was running out of ideas...? *Snicker* Hubert's supposed to look more annoyed than he does, but I think it's okay. Combined pencils and crayons.

Duuuuh... Cheese... I don't know them. They just showed up one day and followed me home...

Photobooth Series 2: First and second pictures The first one is cute. The second one is Alvin being Alvin. I have no idea where Hubert found him... I think it involved a grocery store. Colored pencils!

"I said sit down and be quiet." One way to keep him from chewing on ears...

Er... Chibi-vamps? This turned out a lot cuter than I'd intended, which doesn't bug me too much.

Last but not least, two more from both the lost sketchbook and Hubie's Careers:
In The Name Of The Moon, I Shall Punish You! You already know what's coming, right? *Grin* I couldn't resist, ignore the legs, and sketched on afternoon while watching cartoons with Mme. Jean.

He's no Coby Jones, but he's a good sweeper.I _love_ this one. I did it during school, and -everything- came together just about perfectly. *Snicker* And yes, I did label the goalie. I think it might be Alvin...

Sadly, tht's all I had time to scan tonight. I spent an hour and a half getting my computer to just start -up-, which nearly gave me a heart attack... Ooh! Almost forgot -- updated the fiction pages, kinda. Not all of the links work, but Bloodsuckers Inc, Marc'n'Vic bits, and Marc In Love, Victor Oblivious are all up and running. My Sentinel fic and my two latest anime fics are up, too, on fanfic. Sadly, none of the rest are. *Grump* But! I _did_ get some stuff done.

Thanks, good night, drive safely, and I love ya.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 1:05 AM |

Ack! I forgot a pic! "And if I reroute the data packets... Voila! I now have unlimited checkout priveledges!" No, I -don't- know why he needs both a boom mic and a subvocal pickup, but then he -is- using a laptop -and- a heads-up display. Must be an ubergeek thing.

On an almost unrelated note, Alvin works as a programmer for Eggplant Computers. *Grin*
Posted by: Shannon M.: 1:08 AM |

Someday, I'm going to have to actually visit the Open Directory parent site. So far, their sock/hosiery directory and their RPG chat directory have been quite helpful and intriguing, respectively. None of the rooms mentioned seem to be an adequate replacement for WBS, but then, I don't think anything will be.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 9:50 AM |

Ooh. *Blinkblink* I do not know how I survived -this- long without this bastion of Coolness to save my sorry ass. *Blink* *Snerk* I'm _soooooooo_ tempted to register for their message boards so I can post snarky messges... "I've never taken a date to a karaoke bar, and I still can't get laid... What's wrong with me, O Cool Ones?" "My boyfriend thinks karaoke is _the_ COOLEST activity on the planet, should I dump him? 'Cause, like, that's the only place he wants to go. We met at a karaoke bar..." "Help does anyone know how to dance to mariachi muzic thx peepz yo." *Cough* So I'm a bad baby. I'm also cooler than they are. *Smirk*
Posted by: Shannon M.: 12:09 PM |

I _finally_ found out what Transmuters are! They're boots, and not exactly my style, either.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 5:37 PM |

Sunday, December 31, 2000

I think this is a very pretty picture. It's one of the clearest pictures of the earth I've seen... And I can see my city! (It's approximately directly in line with the third/fourth island in the Hawaiian chain, moving from left to right.)
Posted by: Shannon M.: 2:39 PM |

Reading Sketch of Love, finally. Well... Hm. It needs writing help, but the artwork is okay. It's kind of jumpy -- scenes change abruptly without much in the way of transition. (Yeah, I know, like I have room to complain about _that_.)
Posted by: Shannon M.: 2:54 PM |

I myself have been on a real drawing kick, lately.What I have so far (and may even get uploaded later today...):

Alvin, looking reserved about something; wearing a black button-down over a dark green T
Alvin and Hubie in pictures taken in a photobooth: series one includes Hubert holding up two fingers behind Alvin's head, Alvin pretending to bite Hubert's neck, the two of them with their tongues out looking as if they don't have a braincell between them, and Hubert standing behind a seated Alvin with his (Hubert's) arms around his (Alvin's) neck. Series two features Alvin wearing a set of fake cat-ears, Alvin chewing on one of Hubert's ears, Hubert standing behind a seated, pouting Alvin with his hands over Alvin's mouth, and an entirely -too- cheerful Hubert with his head on Alvin's shoulder. Several variations on Merry Christmas Hubert. (I tried drawing a Happy Chaunakah Hubert, but it didn't go too well... I need more practice.) One of Hubert with a purple bow behind one ear.
Mercy and Grace, circa Stealing The Spire -- two pics with their arms around one another, one of Grace dressed up (though it's more of a derivation/variation on his outfit from the casino scene), a couple of portrait-esque drawings of them on their own.
I tried drawing Ko and Meyers, but they didn't turn out too well. Then I moved on to Kesiir and Dythnaali, boh of whom were recalcitrant at first... But then I let Kes cut his hair and everyone was maginally happier. So I have a couple of pics of Kes with short hair, and a couple of Dythnaali.
I also have these two pictures that are the result of living with the family I have. I was trying to decide what to attempt next, and I got "Draw a boat! With prayer flags! With anime characters on them! Being attacked by a giant octopus! While Tibetan Texans try to catch halibut!" So I did. And my mother managed to identify two out of three of the anime characters. The -other- picture was "Draw Santa Claus coming down the chimney! Carrying a surfboard! Wearing a kimono! And don't forget the kimono's fur-trimmed hood!" So. I drew the surfboard in the kimono, because I'm perverse that way.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 3:25 PM |

Hot Topic has a T-shirt that says "No, really. What happened to your face?". Oh, the joy of ironic commentary... *Snerk* I'm -so- evil. I also want their "I'm just a f$*%ing ray of sunshine, aren't I?" and "Do I -look- like a f$*%ing people-person to you?" shirts. Already have the Boy Band Reject shirt in my basket...

Hee! They also have "I DID NOT escape... They gave me a -day- _pass_." and "You're looking at the Bad Thing that happens to Good People."
Posted by: Shannon M.: 3:41 PM |

Okay, I've found it -- "I'm thinking the same thing about you." It's a sticker, but I can write it on a T-shirt with a sharpie. *Evil grin* But it makes such a perfect statement...
Posted by: Shannon M.: 4:06 PM |

Y'know, I really like pin-up art. No, like this girl, or this one. The really innocent, Varga-esque ones.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 4:24 PM |

I can just -hear- Alvin snickering over this fish... Personally, I want the fish with udders, not that I can remember what it says inside...
Posted by: Shannon M.: 4:27 PM |

I am soooo tempted... They look like rain boots!
Posted by: Shannon M.: 4:44 PM |

Umm... Why would you want to wear a pair of sling-backs, sandals, or any other sort of open-to-the-elements shoe in a clubbing environment? Clubs are where I would want steel shinguards, never-mind- steel toes...
Posted by: Shannon M.: 4:48 PM |

Mm! Maryjanes! Dunno if they'd look good on _me_, though...
Posted by: Shannon M.: 4:49 PM |