I’ve been really busy making massive and very detailed sculptures of the part between the hips and ribs of famous statues, completely out of herbs.

But it takes up so much of my day.

Just a giant waist of thyme. 

As I got off the J train a few minutes ago, I was a few things: kind of hungry (I haven’t eaten since like, 1) kind of pissed (my phone died a whie ago and my head REALLY FUCKING HURTS) and kind of tired (I’m a fat person so it doesn’t take much to do that, it’s almost expected) but one thing I wasn’t expecting, was to feel incredibly guilty and shitty in a minute or so.

When I was near the end of the platform, I saw a very short man semi-stumbling about so I internally semi-panicked. I hate having to swerve around people because I always get it wrong. Plus, I assumed the stumbling was a byproduct of his (assumed) intoxication. As I got closer, I found out I was right. He reeked.

But, I also noticed that he had a two bongos and some sort of bongo case with him. And, that he had no arms. This drunken amputee, I then gathered, must be either a train musician, or just got back from a crazy jam session.

Anyway, when the dreaded time came, I did, of course, get it wrong. He went one way, I went the same. I went the other way, he went the same. So for about 3 seconds, what came out of my head was

“Oh. Uh. Huh. Sorry. Lemme just — uup. Oh god, I’m sorry”
But what was going on inside my head was screaming, non stop, primal brain screaming.

And when I finally worked my way around him, I walked through the turnstiles as he SCREAMED AT ME AT THE TOP OF HIS LUNGS. “WATCH WHERE YOU’RE FUCKIN GOIN, ASSHOLE” etc. etc. Now if there’s one thing you should know about me it’s that I hate confrontation. So my poor widdle heart was pulling a NASCAR (racing for no real reason) and he even slammed himself against the turnstiles as I got to the stairs.

But the thoughts that occurred to me as I briskly walked down those stairs made me feel awful immediately after I had them, and I know they’re terrible, but I feel like this entire post loses all, if any worth if I’m not being completely honest.

I thought to mysellf:

” If he does chase me, he can’t really catch me.
And even if he does, I know he’s not Armed.”

I haven’t been able to do much the past few days due to my feeling like utter shit, but I thought I just had some sort of flu-like symptoms, maybe a virus or something. Then yesterday, I had a full-blown asthma attack! I knew the feeling, I just didn’t want to acknowledge it. It had started the night before. It’s the worst. Not having the capacity to take a full breath? It’s torture. The tightness in the chest, overall fatigue (and some anxiety too! Which is helpful if you have the occasional panic attack, like myself) all in all, good times were had. I haven’t had one in years,  I felt so nostalgic in-between the whole, not being able to breathe bits. But it’s just like falling off a bike. You never get any better at it.

When I finally realized that the hassle and bother it was for everyone involved is probably out-weighed by the chance that I could very well die, I caved in to my mother’s requests and went to the hospital. Bellevue Hospital, a place known world-wide for it’s housing of the crazies. Also where I was born. And I forgot that 20 year olds still go to the pediatrics emergency room. I was the only one in that tiny, brightly colored room who could grow (patchy) facial hair besides a few dads.

Anyway, we concluded that my seasonal allergies were triggered by a visit to the park on pi day, which then escalated my asthma symptons (then evolving into an attack) all the while also harboring some kind of flu-like virus. A lot of the time spent waiting last night was to see if they were going to keep me. Some steroids (prednisone, I’m not taking the baseball kind), a few nebulzer treatments and X-Rays later, they decided it wasn’t walking pnomonia (again) and that although I didn’t improve that much, I could go home with a handful of prescriptions and the phone number of a doctor who may have become my best friend. If only he would have been a sexy lady. That would have made this story much more interesting. 

I just wanted to rant for a bit about how much fun I’ve been having, nearly collapsing from weakness & pain, and coughing up my insides the past few days. You can go back to sexy gifs and bbc fanfiction now. 

PS those little bracelet things? 

FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE. 

I’ve got an assignment due tomorrow (today, technically) for my Art & Design workshop, and as usual I put it off until a few hours before I have to hand it in. I’m working on it right now. The project is entitled “It’s about time” and here are a few lines from the prompt:

 ”Any narrative is based upon the idea that objects, environments and circumstances all change as they exist through time. Time is a tricky thing to describe in visual terms, but artists have devised countless ways to do so over the centuries … for this project, you may use the spatial or temporal medium of your choice. You may work in a representational, abstract or non-objective mode.”

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likeomfgitsjonny:

Poster, designed and illustrated by Jonny Ruzzo.

Man, guys with the initials J & R rule. 

So, some DUMB JERKS I know (or, three of my favorite dudes: I haven’t decided yet) have started this internet-website-page or something called “KABOOOOOM.COM.”

Personally, I don’t agree with starting a website because I know this whole internet thing is just a fad. But, they went ahead and did it anyway, without my blessing. Big mistake. 

I don’t know what it is, it’s like, about Comic books, Video Games, Movies, and Collectibles, or something. Also a bunch of dumb children’s things that literally no one, especially in this day and age, is interested in. These guys, bless their hearts, are not as determined or smart as I am, and they actually went through with this project. I would have never done something as lame. I mean, it’s not my thing, but maybe you guys have some little sisters interested in whatever a comics com is or whatever. 

They also have a Bobcats apparently? From what I’ve heard it has healing powers. 

I actually watched this idea-baby hatch from the brains-egg that it was just a few months ago firsthand. Whatever the opposite of pride is, I feel that towards them. It’s a damned shame how cool some people might think it is. 

Anyway this is just a warning. DO NOT go to the website and DO NOT follow it on twitter or listen to the bobcat, or whatever. Avoid it all costs. You’ll be doing yourself/me a huge favor. 

Right, so, to be honest I did not expect PUGNACIOUS to be considered for printing. But, I will say, FUCK 96 PEOPLE OUT THERE. SHIT. 96 ZEROES? YOU’RE A 0. A BIG FAT GOOSE-EGG, as Ms. Shea, my third grade teacher would say. I hope those 96 people all start to say something to their friends, something really important or funny, and they just forget it. Never remember it again. 

But, to those 50 beautiful fives? Ugh. Get a coupon for something nice. Like something really nice.

Really though, out of 544 votes, an average of 1.97 is okay , considering what I expected. Especially since I never actually anticipated putting it on a shirt. It was just a doodle I did because I wanted to use those colors and draw a pug. No actual concept or cleverness about it. I was just feeling lucky and slapped it on a shirt. 

Unlike DRAKEULA, which I did specifically because I wanted it on a shirt. But you can’t use a celebrity’s likeness blah blah blah. 

I still absolutely love threadless. I have for years, and actually, this mostly positive experience has made me semi-confident that if I actually thought of something, a cute/clever concept and executed it well, I might actually be able to get printed. Which would be a huge deal for me. 

Thanks to all my cool friends who are the best, and rad internet people who gave me a good score and helped me get votes! The biggest of hugs goes to my home-slice with extra cheese Carlos (check out his stuff, you’ll be doing yourself a favor) who even mentioned me in a video :]

Until next time, people who wear shirts! 

PS It makes sense that virgins (No Sex) gave me the lowest scores. Stop scoring t-shirts and maybe you’ll get laid,

I said to myself.