Further along. I’d forgotten how tedious doing the less interesting parts of these things can be… like clothes. But whatever. I’m still enjoying it.

My stomach is unhappy with me. Five tacos. I’m typically not a taco kind of guy, but Sandra made em and they were delicious so partook.

Tomorrow I have the second interview for the ice cream place.

For now, it’s time to go to sleep. 

Just because I can, here are some random picture from my desktop.

here’s the original if you’re interested

Worked a little more on the Johnny Damon picture. I think it’s coming along pretty well. I feel like a jerk though because I doubt I’ll do the catcher and the ump watching the ball fly, which really is one of the things that makes the original photo so awesome, but I just don’t have the attention span for it. Plus, that padding on the catchers vest would be a major pain in the ass. So I’ll probably just do Johnny and the background and leave it at that. Maybe if I feel up to it I’ll do the other two as well, but I’m not planning on it.

I like this. It feels creative and it’s one of those things where I can actually focus on something for a while without getting distracted by email and TV and cigarettes. It seems kind of silly since nothing can really come of it, but really, nothing comes of ANYTHING I do… it’s all just artistic masturbation. Doing creative things simply to please myself and not caring if anyone else gets anything from it.

One could argue that the energy I’m investing here could be better spent on something that might actually go somewhere… but you know the saying “The heart wants what it wants” and right now I wanna work on this thing.

Well, actually, right now I want to go have a smoke and then go to sleep. I’ll probably do that.

So I was bored and saw something online that broke my ever loving heart.

It’s been a while now, but it still hurts.

So I thought I’d give the “Digital Painting” thing another shot, to see if I could still do it. Here are a couple of examples at previous attempts.

and this one, that I never got around to finishing.

Anyway. I’ve been at it for about an hour now. Here’s what I’ve got so far.

Click it for a better look. As you can see, I’m barely into it, but I thought I’d share because I surprised myself. For the short amount of time that I’ve worked on it, I think it’s looking pretty good so far.

So, it’s friday. You know what THAT means!

Well… for me, nothing really.

BUT

I woke up this morning with a BAD case of the mudbutt. Like, the worst mudbutt I’ve ever had. It was almost scary.

But at least it gave me an opportunity to read this months Playboy interview with Ozzie Guillen, the general manager of the White Sox

I’ve decided that this season I’m going to stop following the Red Sox and follow the White Sox instead. I am white after all.

Besides, I’m pissed at the Red Sox. Well, not so much angry as disappointed. They won the World Series and then half the team jumped ship. Johnny Damon playing for The Yankees? That’s like… okay, here’s what it’s like:

Imagine that you had a group of friends that you always hang out with. A really tight group of really great friends. People that really mesh well together and have a really great time. Now, there’s this one girl (or guy, I guess, if that’s your thing) who you’ve got this major crush on and you think is just the sweetest, funniest, cutest, most amazing girl that you’ve ever known. You absolutely love this girl.

Now imagine that there’s this OTHER group of friends… this bunch of obnoxious jocks. Posers with all kinds of cheesy bling, and Escalades with spinning rims. Metrosexual club rats. Guys who you see driving down the street blasting shitty music and wearing 800$ sunglasses. Guys who have a reputation as being mixed up with the wrong crowd. Pimps and drug dealers. Guys who, for whatever reason, are considered cool by a large percentage of the population. Basically, the completely opposite of YOUR group of friends.

Your group is something of a band of happy misfits. They’re the Lost Boys. They have fun and they don’t care what people think about the way they dress or the length of their hair. Guys who, you know, are really great guys. Good hearts and really care about people.

So back to this girl. This girl is someone that you know that if you and she were to get together, you could probably get married and have a couple of kids and be genuinely happy with for the rest of your life. But you’ve just never made that move. Not yet. You enjoy being friends with her too much to make that big of a change. You don’t want to mess up the dynamic of this perfect group.

Now, imagine that you run into one of the guys from the bad group at a bar. You’re sitting at the bar and the bad group is at the table behind you. You’re sitting there having your beer and listening to their conversation. It’s been a little bit since you’ve hung out with your group of friends. You tend to not see them much in the winter. Not sure why.

So you’re listening to them and they’re talking about just terrible things and laughing. One guy’s telling a story about how he fucked this married chick and got her pregnant and then her husband found out and took the kids and now she’s had an abortion and her marriage destroyed. And they all think that’s hilarious. You can hear them snorting lines of coke and talking about YOUR group of friends and how stupid they think your group is.

You’re sitting there getting more and more angry, thinking about getting up and starting a fight, but knowing that it would be hopeless because there’s just one of you and, say, I dunno, nine of them. So You just sit there and take it. Listening to them talk the worst kind of shit about your friends.

THEN you hear a familiar voice. You realize that you’ve been hearing it all along, but you didn’t pick on on who it was until just now. You look up in the mirror behind the bar and see the group behind you and you’re not sure what to make of it. You keep looking and it starts to sink in.

Sitting in the middle of that group if The Girl. The one you’re in love with. The one who is the “perfect woman” in your eyes. The one you wanted to spend your life with.

You see her sitting with THOSE fuckers. She’s got coke on her upper lip. She’s not used to snorting coke and isn’t good at it. Nor does she look good wearing the clothes she’s wearing. The slutty, hoochiemomma clothes she’s wearing. One of the guys in the BAD group of friends is sitting next to her. Let’s call him… I dunno… Jarrod. Jay Rod to his friends. He’s got one hand up your friend’s skirt. The other is down the top of her tube top. The tube top you’d never, ever picture her wearing. The tube top that looks like something that a 15 year old hooker would wear.

She’s laughing. She’s laughing and enjoying herself. One of the other guys… let’s call him… I dunno… Peter. Darrel Petter. He grabs her by the hair and pushes her under the table and sloppy sounds of her half blowing/half choking are more than you can take. Darrel Peter and Jay Rod give each other high fives and start to pull a train on her, right there in bar. Who’s going to stop them? No one. They’ve got rich daddies and lots and lots of money. They’ve bought and sold this place already. No one’s going to say a goddamned thing.

What are you gonna do? She’s not there against her will. She is apparently having a good time. All you can do is walk away. Go back to your bedroom and cry. Cry because such a beautiful thing has been corrupted. Cry because very suddenly everything you took for granted about this girl is gone. You chance is over and there’s no going back. Ever.

Just seeing her like that… there’s something so incredibly sad and wrong and just plain dirty about it. It’s like seeing a little girl wearing hot pants and a shirt that says “Daddy fucked me and I loved it”

That’s what seeing Johnny Damon wearing a Yankees uniform is like for me.

Everything that was good and nice and lovable about Johnny Damon and the Red Sox was suddenly and violently crushed like a mouse under a boot.

God it hurts.