Fancy Action likes to take two dollar bus trips to Reno, where she laps up rum and cokes, laughs too loudly, and pays small-handed men to roll the dice for her. She often cries, alone, in the night.
DeWayne’s mom used to refer to him as “That dumbshit, DeWayne.” That’s why he spends his free time getting degrees from online universities and having them sent to his mom’s house, even though she’s been dead for three years.
Puddin’ Butt is a bitch. She likes to spread rumors and she steals other people’s lunches. She never finished high school. She also does pills. Like, a lot of pills. STAY AWAY FROM PUDDIN’ BUTT.
Tom Cruise III is the third in a medium-long line of Tom Cruises. Not much else is known about Tom Cruise III, but if you’d like to get to know him better, you can e-mail him at hunglikeahorsie@notgay.cum.
3:16 pm |
May 12 2012
Ocean Peach is the name of a bedtime story. It’s about peaches that grow in the middle of the ocean. They rise up to the surface and grow in the moonlight, then fall back down beneath the waves when the sun comes up. Also, no one ever sees them, that’s why I made this diorama.
Yeah, I got a soft side and shit.
12:41 pm |
April 28 2012
| 1 note
This is the nastiest thing I’ve ever made. It’s called Dick Bunnies, and it came from a really rotten fairy-tale phone-sex needleworking part of my soul.
12:38 pm |
April 28 2012
| 4 notes
This is a self-portrait of me at work. Just a’vomitin’ words out all the live-long day. I usually have a shirt on when I’m there, though.
12:36 pm |
April 28 2012
This is a dress I made from shiny material. It makes it easier to pretend I’m a fancy, rich lady. Smash those brandy snifters in the fireplace!
12:31 pm |
April 28 2012
| 2 notes
It’s a postcard. It’s also a house for mice and tiny things.
12:30 pm |
April 28 2012
| 3 notes
Those things’ll kill ya. ‘Specially the alpha males.
7:39 pm |
March 5 2012
YOU DON’T NOMI. Or maybe you do. A Klaus Nomi puppet I made for my boyfriend because he was so sad. That Klaus Nomi is dead.
7:39 pm |
March 5 2012
This is based on the woodcut The Dream of the Fisherman’s Wife. Also Cole Porter lyrics. It’s called Flapper’s Delight and it just feels right to me, baby.
7:42 pm |
February 2 2012
How To Talk To Your Children About The Breakup Of Seal And Heidi Klum.
Parents. In the coming weeks, you may find that your kids have a lot of questions about the breakup of superstar couple Seal and Heidi Klum. Instead of throwing more coal on those tiny worry engines, instead of allowing them to careen off down the track to the inevitable (and true, so, even worse) realization that Daddy can leave any time he damn well pleases—and, in fact, so can Mommy, even if she is statistically less likely to do so—slam on the brakes. There is no reason for a child under the age of eight to realize that nothing holds us together—nothing but the gossamer threads of social convention and a desperate wish to see acceptance in the eyes of those around us.
If you are an asshole, you might call this a “teachable moment.” If you are kidding yourself that you are not an asshole, you might decide to see it as a great opportunity to point out one of life’s cruddiest truths—that you’re probably going to end up with someone who’s just about as successful/attractive as you are. Examine the facts: He has kiddie-pool-sized pits in his skin; touching her would be like stroking a cat made of hot butter that magically holds its shape. She is regularly dressed in clothing that looks like the good kind of modern art; he is best known for wearing silk shirts that blow around him as though he’s standing perpetually in front of a slow-motion rotary fan. She’s a supermodel and the face of one of the most successful television franchises of the last decade; his song Kiss From A Rose might get played by a particularly ironic DJ at a junior high dance
The best lesson the under-ten set can take from this breakup is this: don’t wallow after you’ve been ditched. Perhaps you could make a felt board with cutouts of Seal and Heidi, move them respectfully ever farther from one another and then divide their pile of stick-on material goods. However you achieve it, teach them this lesson; teach it good.
The champagne waterfall has been turned off. The party guests have taken their swag bags (made from hollowed-out baby seals) home to throw on the pile in the foyer. Only one man is still standing among the party detritus, soulfully holding out empty arms and willing the press to carry his hopeless words of love off into the night, to better parties, where his butter cat’s star is even now on the rise. Teach them this: don’t be that guy. Also, this: love only lasts as long as we want it to, and not even that long if everybody’s watching.
10:34 am |
January 30 2012
