It's snowing. How disgusting is that? When I woke up this morning it was fucking 48 degrees (why don't keyboards have a little circle thing to indicate temperature? Why is that? And why did they take the little cents symbol away so long ago?) in my house and there was snow all over my newly leafed out Japanese maple and my poor petunias. I am taking it as a personal insult: I'm furious. It's two weeks before my birthday and it never snows this close to my birthday, a, and b, I live in NORTH CAROLINA not THE FRIGGING YUKON.
So I'm sulking, wearing a big fuzzy sweater, and running the oven. However I amused myself for a good twenty minutes by drawing a pig. You should draw your own pig, it's great fun. You can see my beautiful spotty pig here although you will notice it's strong resemblance to a cow. Or a dog. Almost everything I draw looks like a dog or a cow, or, as my children cruelly say, a kind of hybrid cow-dog-goat thing. Ha! I went to art school! I have permission to draw badly! Also, it didn't take.
The most art-schooly I think I ever felt (besides wearing all black with torn tights and dirty purple hair and listening to the Smiths and all those extremely conformist non conformist college student things) was one time when I was trying to get the sort of Simpsons-esque paint mixing boy at Home Depot to mix me up a really vitriolic bright lime green deck paint so I could paint my execution ground style concrete Highlandtown back yard in vividly hideous colors. I kept telling him to add more bright yellow and he was getting all nervous about it, like it was going to blow up or something, and finally I yelled "I went to art school! I give you permission to break the mixing rules!" and he did.
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