Nothing much. What's up with you?
This weeks IF word was "speed". I didn't do it. At one point I started something, but hated how it was turning out so I stopped. And that's pretty much it. So now I've missed one word since starting this whole thing. Eh. It happens. Perhaps I'll feel more like drawing next week.
Since you dropped by I figure the least I can do is give you some kinda story in place of "art".
On my way up the hill to work I passed a guy who had just crossed the street from the mental health facility ("We toss the small ones!") conveniently located down the road. Apparently he wasn't quite done yet. He proceeded to walk up the hill backwards while thrusting his crotch out at the traffic coming up the hill and wiggling his fingers down at crotch level. It was as though he was saying, "Look at me! I'm nuts! MY NUTS! I'm nuts! MY NUTS!" After I passed him I saw in my rear-view mirror that he continued along the same way at least until I lost sight of him.
That was a pretty short story. There was something else I was going to write about a week or so ago. I suppose now is better than never.
If you are a smoker, I apologize in advance for what I'm about to write. You are probably a great person underneath that nicotine patina.
I'm not a smoker. I grew up in a house where both parents smoked and everyone they knew seemed to smoked. I even have memories of playing in a huge crystal ashtray that my parents owned; the cigarette butts were people and I would run them over with my Hot Wheels. So I'm no stranger to smoke.
At work it has been decided that all smokers are to smoke in the side patio area which happens to be by the door that we – the art department and others – use to get to our cars.
The other day I walked out the door on my way home and stepped into a cloud of some of the foulest stagnant ciggy smoke that I have ever come across. I wasn't expecting it because usually that stuff dissipates somewhat quickly, so I wound up with my lungs full of putridity. As I was recovering I thought to myself, "Wow. That's probably exactly how it would feel to be walking along, trip and fall face first into Death's asshole."
Have a great weekend everyone.
Since you dropped by I figure the least I can do is give you some kinda story in place of "art".
On my way up the hill to work I passed a guy who had just crossed the street from the mental health facility ("We toss the small ones!") conveniently located down the road. Apparently he wasn't quite done yet. He proceeded to walk up the hill backwards while thrusting his crotch out at the traffic coming up the hill and wiggling his fingers down at crotch level. It was as though he was saying, "Look at me! I'm nuts! MY NUTS! I'm nuts! MY NUTS!" After I passed him I saw in my rear-view mirror that he continued along the same way at least until I lost sight of him.
That was a pretty short story. There was something else I was going to write about a week or so ago. I suppose now is better than never.
If you are a smoker, I apologize in advance for what I'm about to write. You are probably a great person underneath that nicotine patina.
I'm not a smoker. I grew up in a house where both parents smoked and everyone they knew seemed to smoked. I even have memories of playing in a huge crystal ashtray that my parents owned; the cigarette butts were people and I would run them over with my Hot Wheels. So I'm no stranger to smoke.
At work it has been decided that all smokers are to smoke in the side patio area which happens to be by the door that we – the art department and others – use to get to our cars.
The other day I walked out the door on my way home and stepped into a cloud of some of the foulest stagnant ciggy smoke that I have ever come across. I wasn't expecting it because usually that stuff dissipates somewhat quickly, so I wound up with my lungs full of putridity. As I was recovering I thought to myself, "Wow. That's probably exactly how it would feel to be walking along, trip and fall face first into Death's asshole."
Have a great weekend everyone.
Comments
Thanks for sharing!
I grew up in a household of all smokers, and my parent's friends and their friends and their friends all smoked (remember that shampoo commercial with all of those faces popping up?). But, unlike you...I ended up smoking. I think I became addicted to it through second-hand smoke. Well, I didn't smoke long...and, it has been decades since I have had a cigarette...and, now it totally grosses me out. I think I can smell somebody in a car four car lengths up smoking in their car with their windows down! YUCK!
Where I teach, the smoking areas are designated right outside the doors of each building on campus. So, I have to walk through the second-hand smoke to get into the building each day. Whose bright idea was this?
Hope to see an illo this week!!
Enjoy your day!