Selling a cookie called the drunken negro face cookie is NOT ART!
Even if it was , err, is that supposed to make it okay?
The Art of stereotyping through art/posters/merchandise
I made a pop up page for the sketchbook with Talitha the Tongue and I at one of our fave local eateries, ha ha pizza. She is one of few friends that loves pepperoni and anchovies on her pizza, so she is my pizza pal as well as my jafagal pal.
Photo of "keep your big mouth shut" by Jan Jackson
Still working on the sketchbook and I struggled with this.
"tree"
sketchbook project page
Sketchbook Project Page
"aunt jessie"
Claire's Eye by JafabritShe walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
Lord Byron
I so enjoyed this card, so whimsical and even though you can't see it it had sparkles.
Karma
I had a boyfriend once who asked me to marry him. His looks and his intellectual curiosity could not compensate for the creeping insults disguised
as wit or the ever increasing bouts of inebriation.
By the time “the incident” occurred I was ready to be done.
He became known as
Mr.Shit Pants
We’d been dating a year when he showed up at my flat at 1 am in the morning palatik drunk. He stumbled into my bedroom and I told him “if you think I’m going to sleep with you you MUST be bloody well joking”. What a waste of breath, he was passed out already, so I went and slept on the couch in the front room.5am, he pokes his head around the door and asks me for a bucket. “a bucket?” “yes, a bucket “ he says. “what the hell do you need a bucket for”, I ask. “are you going to be sick?” “no” he says. “I, err, well I kind of had an accident?” I am thinking what the hell kind of an accident and then he tells me he sneezed and he well, err shit himself. OH MY GOD! I didn’t have a bathroom. I rented two rooms on the bottom floor of an old Victorian house and we shared a communal bathroom upstairs. I was going to have to get dressed and go find a bloody bucket and fill it with warm water. And to make matters worse he asks me if I could wash his clothes and meanwhile he will put the bedding in the bucket to soak. I guess he was thinking I could wash the sheets later.
That did it. I was out of there. I gave him the bucket and left.
Finito.
The End
Catis Felis
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I woke up New Years Day and I was back to my old self.