someone remind me again why i ever bothered growing up?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xrxlnBJ4R0o

the small matter of the lower-case n.

I was doing this email interview today and the foible of my lower case name came up. I made the request, feeling 90% stubborn and 10% remorseful for clinging to the notion. My interviewer said he'd try his best, no guarantees, but to make up for this, forwarded the following:

In a cold and far-off place
There was a lower-case n
Lonely and cold, she would stare off into space
And it was known that she would cry now and then

Lower-case n
Standing on a hill
The wind is very still
For the lower-case n...

[Sesame Street, if you didn't already know]

Made. My. Day.

More people should quote Sesame Street in business emails. It would make the world a significantly better place.

a clever thought for kerners everywhere.

The revolution will not be italicized.

har har.

they call me naughty stef

We are at the moment in a bit of a conundrum regarding a half page of our new issue of Brick, which is one ad shy of complete. Throwing some ideas around, someone thought a Brick personals/classified section might be good. So, with They Call me Naughty Lola close at hand, I decided today to take a stab at a few lonely hearts ads:

Prisoner of his own lofty notions seeks defamement, disillusionment, and perhaps a spot of supper. Box 7714

St. George station. I was bleary-eyed and snotty, you winked nonetheless. Drinks? Box 5800

Noone buys me flowers. So what if I'm the one selling them. 27yrs, kind female, living in horticultural excess, seeks more of same. Box 2146

The last time people tried to pick me up was 1973. Weighing in at 7lbs4ounces and cute as a button, this was hardly surprising; in fact I was the pick of the litter. It was not the success of said pick-ups which was has kept me from the real-life dating world, it was the frequency with which i was subsequently dropped on my head. Slightly dim-witted but well-intentioned 34 year old seeks gentleman with a solid grip and medical insurance. Box 3976

My last brazilian went awry. Hirsute woman in sticky situation seeks sympathy and a good shearing. Box 3219

I was that kid who bought glasses from the backs of comic books to see through your clothing. My comic book budget now goes to university debt collections and alimony payments. Looking for someone who will save me the excess expense. Civilized gentleman seeks woman, 25+, no glasses please, for clotheless tumble. Box 4403

Beset by pernicious facial hair. Don't you dare call me Frida. Eccentric bookish sort in search of artless man for motorcycle rides and saucy bedtime readings. Box 2208

You'll love me. God knows I do. Box 6730

Moby Dick's got nothing on me. Weighty woman searches for modern-day Ahab. Come have dinner at my place.
(Again and again and again)
Box 3489

BA? MFA? BDSM? STD? I've got none of 'em. See my point?
SWF, tired of fancy educated sorts seeks simple man with a touch of vanilla.
Blue rinse gents need not apply. Box 2222

The Invention of Everything Else.

I am throwing all moral quandaries about online advertising OUT the window here, as my entire weekend has just been consumed by this book, the latest by Samantha Hunt. It was, in a word, SCINTILLATING.

and this from blessed Harpers Weekly

The United Nations found that women make up 70 percent of the world's poor, own only 1 percent of the world's titled land, and are discriminated against in almost every country.

oh well.

t-shirt.

i need one, that says "stress monkey" on it.
STRESS MONKEY.

anii (sic) and swans and such.

In the interest of pulling this blog out of complete lassitude, if only for a moment, i give you these snippits, pilfered from Harpers Weekly, which is So awesome:
An elderly German woman filed a lawsuit against a hospital in Bavaria after she checked in for a leg operation and was instead given a new anus. ...It was reported that Petra, the German black swan who fell in love with a swan-shaped paddleboat two years ago, has moved on to a new relationship with a live white swan. The two are now building a nest together.

Although I'm trying not to be one of those bloggers

that post silly weird pictures they find on the internet, i'm failing miserably.
This:

found when googling "playgrounds" this morning.

I was also happy to discover, quite by chance, that someone has a blog entitled My Chutney Garden.
Chutney.
A word preposterously underused in everyday life.

teaTime. a paginical (sic) preview.

This from the Nerve Guide to Sex Etiquette

Which is on its second read now, and as gutsplittingly funny as ever.

When inviting a paramour to one's abode, the gracious host ensures their guest's stay is as comfortable as possible. No need to redecorate, after all, your space is a reflection of who you are—excepting, of course, if you are a filthy pig, in which case betraying yourself and procuring a Swiffer is in order...
...The toilet bowl lid should always be left down. If that is too taxing, then at least leave the seat down, dear cretin. If there is something you do not want to be discovered—a sex toy, adult diapers, a shrunken head—do not keep it in your medicine cabinet. Finally, as a true lady or gentleman, you should always have a guest toothbrush ready, still in its packaging, just in case a guest requests one. You do not keep a drawer full of them for guests to "pick their favourite colour", as if you were the sex dentist.

stuff.

Usually, me and stuff don't like each other much.
Unless it's books, I find Stuff superfluous, weighty, not unduly joy-giving, and being responsible for it kind of annoying.
THAT IS, of course, unless we are talking about the Stuff of Shannon Gerard.

Ladies and gentlemen, The Stuff Of Shannon Gerard. A small little piece of Heart-y loveliness to carry around with you in the darker months of the year.

the problem of stereotypes.

I was given a Dr. Who yearbook by a fellow appreciator today, and I was THRILLED.
Like, Stupid Thrilled.
Discussing this addiction, which has gotten worse of late, we agreed that if i were male, it would be assumed, given the fervor of my dedication, that I am a chronic masturbator who lives in my mother's basement, plays atari, and never showers.

I would like to say for the record that I showered this morning and haven't played atari in years.

And I have breasts.

A bit too modern.

Went into the office today, plugged the kettle in for tea, went back to my computer, grabbed the mouse, and started looking for the place to click to get the water boiling.

Goodness.

Who.

If i watch many more Doctor Who reruns, not only will i need medical attention myself, but I will run out of Tom Baker episodes, on top of all the new seasons, which have already been exhausted (unless there is a season 4, which i don't know of, from beneath this existential rock of mine.)
This could all be a grave problem.

Colette.

After 4 hours of PULLINGMYHAIROUT over book drawings, I decided it is One Of Those Days and I would turn my attentions instead to finishing off a drawing for Brick that was happily straightforward, if not a little boring.
So I give you Colette.

to blog or not to blog.

Am BACK.
I tend to vacillate between "Blogging? BALLS to that" and "Blogging? Why not, lunch is over and the kettle has yet to boil for tea".
So.

Went to Paris, went to Angouleme.
The latter went SWIMMINGLY.
Made back all my costs from the festival proper, and sold more books than at MoCCA NY and TCAF COMBINED. Most importantly though, people seemed SO interested. So much discussion, so many questions, so much engaging, my head must have grown three to five times bigger than it already is.
With my abominable french grammar, it's a wonder I didn't come back married, murdered, or contracted into questionable activity involving the mafia. But I seem to have made it okay, and hopefully have not misrepresented my project in attempting to blunder my way through french explanations.

Now, of course, it's draw, draw, DRAW, as TeaTime will be launching in June, along with an accompanying interview/article about the project (unless something horrid and unforeseen happens) in Rue Morgue magazine. WOOOO.

And somehow to get through the February blues.
And...well, that's all really...

Angouleme!

Accreditation!
Wow!

what my heart looks like.

The below is an older drawing completed for a book project wherein a bunch of artists submit drawings entitled "what my heart looks like".

at last.

1 down! (click on image to see full size cover page)
ahem.
now only 31 to go. And France in FIVE days!