i had this mini surge of patriotism while photographing this

i'm gonna start leasing my friends

(i love my centerpiece so much...dead dandelions and broken petunias. seriously. i couldn't ask for a better one!)

so first today i send the wrong text to the wrong person. i just dialed the wrong number and hit send....after hitting send, i had a mini heart attack and nearly busted my phone trying to cancel something that was inevitably going to end up in the wrong inbox anyway. i do believe the little red button on my phone is now an innie. i did learn that apparently 'women are really good at stabbing guys in the heart and then blaming them so they don't feel bad', and while 'spitting my venom', i was told i haven't changed since i was 15. (look, dude, i am really sorry but you didn't have to be such a spaz. seriously. it was a pretty minor thing in the big scheme of things. it wasn't like i detailed sexual positions or anything. and no, i don't keep you around to torture and humiliate you...that's why i keep that monkey locked up in my attic. you have no idea how bad i feel about it, seriously though.)

then, after all the shit settled and i started feeling a little better about my loser self, i ate lunch. it was great but at the end, for some reason, i really wanted a twix so i figured eh, why the hell not...? so, i go to the vending machine and guess what?

i pushed the wrong buttons. i ended up with a king size reeses.

i hate peanut butter. i really do. the smell, the texture, the after taste...i hate it all. but, out of spite, i ate it anyway. i ate the whole damn, king-sized, sandy-peanut butter-filled, generic chocolate disc of nastiness and i did it because, well, because it felt oddly right or something.

now, for the rest of the day, as i reek of peanut butter, i am going to try my hardest to make a list of all the ways i'm better now than i was when i was 15--just to make myself feel better. i'm sure there's one or two ways i'm better...i can drive now at least.

damn long-term relationships...they can throw that shit back at you like no one else can and mean it. i guess that when someone has to put up with your bullshit for nearly half of their life they get that right here and there. i know it's a long shot, but i would like nothing more than to smoke a bowl while re-arranging furniture and discussing the awesomeness of jabbawockeez again...i'll pack the pipe next time. (sorry anti-drug america. every now and then, an old friend and an ancient herb make for a great afternoon.)





p.s.
can't we simply be friends? could we at least try...minus the theatrics? or, is that even possible anymore? we used to be so cool, i miss it; how did shit get to this...? i'm probably delusional...i mean, i am talking to myself here, but i really want to just hit rewind...impossible as that may be. could we at least throw some of that passion into our art or something...vent that way maybe...do something positive together? you write, i'll proof, you can film, i can snap and together we can sit back and watch...
-iris





i know i sound insane. this day hasn't been at all brilliant in the least...

i thought the kid should get a blog of her own...mostly cuz i'm lazy

(i painted this bench yellow on sunday. in the sun it looked just like police tape. then, i painted it smurf blue instead...i now know why the paint was on clearance...good thing i'm a smurf fan)

'staple removers don't work on just paper. i tried. i tried with that one right there and it just went *snap* and put holes in the paper. it didn't work.'

-said by the kid during breakfast.

thanks for nothin old man petrov

i always know spring is here when my shot glasses are being used to hold dandelions instead of the vodka i use to keep warm all winter. i also keep some in a flask inside my fur-lined parka, so when i'm out tending to my herds, in a blizzard, in the arctic depths of january, i can keep my toes from losing all feeling, succumbing to frostbite, having to be amputated by old man petrov down the way with his rusty scissors and then dying from the gang green that would inevitably claim my frigid, drunken life.

all right. all right. that story was completely fake. i made it all up. i don't even drink.

well, i do, but it's rare. i do idiotic things while under the influence. one time, i rode my best friend's eight year olds bike down the hill of their driveway with my pants off (i was hot). i fell off in the middle of the street, because i tried to turn too sharply, and skinned my knee to a bloody pulp. then i puked.

that last story, well that was a true story unfortunately.

flowers and bowls. garage sales are cool :)

jesse vetura is awesome...

(the pics i took today made me look a tad bit skanky, so you get this...lucky ducks)

...he's on leno right now...i'm not just laying in bed fantasizing about him. i like him but not that much. sorry mr. body. you did get my vote though...

funny how it takes an ex pro-wrestler who now lives in mexico to make any sense when speaking about our political system...he makes more sense than anyone i've heard in so long.

thanks dude...now move back here to the colonies and make a change please...

it's cold and rainy and snowy and garage sale season

(this was from just a few weeks ago...but, since there's a chance of snow in the forecast, i figured it was appropriate)

my city is having their annual city wide garage sales this weekend. i was so excited until i heard about the weather for the next couple of days. eh, i guess i prefer this over 90 and humid. i did figure out what i'm going to do for mother's day. i'm going fishing. it's the opener and it's callin my name...screw brunch. yeah, that's right...screw you and your little bunches of purple grapes and non-veggie friendly quiche. yeah...take that. i'm going fishing and i might just smell like worms when i'm done. yeah. that's right...worms. hah!