brit's worried about her baby?

probably not, but I just had to test out posting directly from Flickr. pretty sweet :)

the scrounging

since this thing here that I post to went on life support over the past year, i've kinda been bummed. i've felt like it was a part of my life that was sort of introspective or something. self congratulatory maybe? cry for attention? bordedom? a place to pretend to question my actions on the internet?

well, i've never really been happy with the lack of my art i've put into this blog which is one of the reasons it exists. the other of course is to rant like a crotchety, out of touch, cynical loud mouth. of all of those things, the truth is, i'm really only out of touch, otherwise i'm quite nice.

so I poked through some drawings just now and grabbed this one because its not offensive, and also because it looks like Britney* Spears a little bit, maybe back when she had her dark hair... and I thought to myself... Britney* knows what it's like to be a scrounge I bet, this is the perfect filler for a post on the ol' blog.

poor girl.



and just so you know, that pic wasn't originally meant to be Britney, but... well... she gets around I guess...
__________________
*brit-knee, not brit-UH-knee

and whats up with... ?!?

...apologies to coco.... ;)

have you noticed how songs these days*... (sign of the times? is that what old men* are going to say in the 21st century? "Why these songs today... why I oughtta.... mumble mumble....zzzzzzz......zzzzzz..... )

so, have you noticed how songs these days... you know they do that old trick in the middle of the song... like, okay, let's take a little break, keep the rhythm going... but, I'm going to make a phone call... ring ring...

in the old days when the band/musician/songwriter/producer/engineer/wacked out chick high on reds half awake on the couch would do the old "makin a phone call!" in the middle of the song... the line would ring... ring... and somebody would answer... or if you were in a Pink Floyd song, they wouldn't answer, or they'd hang up on you, or you'd get the operator wondering where you'd gone off too...

but in the new days, when these DJ's and hip-hoppists and electronic musicians and pop stars acting like musicians but their songs are written and produced by the money hungry big corporate record labels that you keep feeding from your wallet make a phone call, it rings and rings... and you get a damn answering machine. you *always* get an answering machine. "yo dog, call me back dog."

as if you didn't feel stupid enough rambling on to a fucking machine while no one or everyone listens, your retarded "status update" monologue could be fodder for the general listening populace... but like the clapper, or Velcro, you were late to the party.

also, i'm watching the Robot Chicken Star Wars episode, and the "Chewie combing his hair like Fonzie" gag is my favorite I think. damn fine showing there.

*sign of the times means that when you search "old men" on google images the fourth and seventh photos returned from the search are hard core porn.

incidentally, did you know the closed captioned subtitles for chewbacca have him saying nothing more than "gah" ? it's true.

clip test - edit now with more post in the post!

oh yeah, test posts on the blog. bam!

it's over there
<- (edit: not over there anymore)

and down there (pointing down symbol)




yeah, so this new thing I figured out with my google reader has me fascinated, which means i'm gonna cheap out on another blog post.

bearp.

thing is the french, are kinky... naughty... crude possibly... and they've been that way for quite some time. I don't think any of this is new information? but if you like art, old art, curios (however you spell that) you should see the kink they put on post cards... a hundred years ago...