The Choler of Purple

Waddaya get when you cross a case of the moody blues with a persistent case of the mean reds?
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4 Syllables, Starts With “R”

My birthday is on Monday.  I’d like to commemorate my 39th year with something extra special.
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Move Over, Johnny Depp

The sight of Elvis chewing the face off a second-hand T-Bear – before and after my second-hand viewing of Sweeney Todd – earned him a new moniker…
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From the Mouths of Gift Horses

On Sunday I wrote about the great deal I found on Tria Markers. I thought they were being cleared out because they were the old two-nib style. Not so.
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Blister in the Sun

By all rights I should be waiting until tomorrow and posting this as a “Show & Tell”, but it will probably heal by then and nobody will believe me that I ever worked this hard…
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Picture Perfect

I could handle hiking up 200 steps through the forest every day to see this…
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Douche That to Me One More Time

A day of painting with oil-based product led to some punchy mid-afternoon conversation up at Fairmont.
WARNING: the remainder of this post contains juvenile content.
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Ow…Ow…Ow…

Suffering from occupational hazard.
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Will Work for Food

Well, food and booze, anyway.
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Things I Could Do

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Aesop’s Foibles

These days I feel like I’m auditioning for the part of the dog in Aesop’s The Dog and the Bone.
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Day-old Muse

Crap. OK, here’s your half-price plastic bag of stale excuses for why I missed getting yesterday’s Daily Muse post up…
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It’s A Dog’s Life

And to that I say: “bow-wow-wow”. Not saying I have gone to the dogs, but I am definitely living it up like one. No municipal job imposing schedules. No public transit commute. Ignoring the 6:30am alarm. Leisurely mid-morning strolls with Elvis – cup o’ joe in hand. Playing in my studio when it suits me.

Does it get any better than this? Why, yes – I think it could.
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Jacked

A wee bit reluctant to go in the studio today, it being a civic holiday and all. Somehow I ended up in there, poking about – prepping a couple new pieces for the Campbell River show. Suddenly I was studio-jacked.
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Potbull Terrier

The SPCA made an error on the adoption papers when they listed Elvis as a pitbull cross. Eight years I’ve lived with my dog – I never would have guessed he was a dope-head.
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Tonight We’re Gonna Party Like I’m Ninety-nine

I’d like to be saying that there will be no post tonight due to severe celebratory conditions: commemorating my last day of work/first night of summer vocation.
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Love Is In The Air…

Ahh…love – its scent hanging thick and pungent in the air [s-n-i-i-i-i-f-f]. Oh. Wait a sec. My mistake. That’s not the smell of love, that’s the smell of shit.
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“Oh, the cleverness of me!”

Success in the studio. Yup…feeling smug-like.
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Found on Building Site Placard: Main Street

Damn, sometimes I love this city I’m in…
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Tragicom

For medical reasons (which, despite how much I’m tempted because people who know me would find the irony hysterical, I am not going to disclose) I have been given a list of things to avoid.
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Let Sleeping Dogs Lie…

until is it cool enough to go for walkies.
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Anticipainshun

I have a paper surrogate of July stuck to my fridge. I have been crossing off the days as they pass – sort of a studio countdown advent calendar.
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Corrupt Cop [Out]

Today I broke one of the basic laws of the Fashion Police.
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