Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Someone's in the kitchen.

Leopold is home from the great beyond.

Artboy: Hey, I found this amazing job posting...and the job is here.

Leopold: (while pointing downward to indicate the room we're having this discussion in, our kitchen) Here?

Artboy: Yes. Right here. Right here in our kitchen.

Leopold: Well, I don't know. You already have a job in this kitchen and we're not giving raises out this year. I'm not saying you don't deserve one...I'm just saying it's not in the budget.

Sunday, July 18, 2010

King of the Road.

Yesterday, for reasons I won't go into in this post because it's really not my story to tell, I found myself on the highway driving a 14-foot moving truck. This is something that most people who know me will find surprising.

See, I don't like to drive. I have no natural sense of direction. I don't trust most other drivers on the road. I have none of the mechanical skills necessary to fix a car should it breakdown.

I don't like to drive.

But, for whatever reason, I don't generally mind driving moving trucks. I've done this on several occasions, including two fairly long drives that included crossing the Bay Bridge. Whether it's the relative unreality of sitting that high up, the comfort of the elaborate sideview mirrors or the fact that these rides have generally just involved me and my good friend the radio, I don't know.

But I don't mind driving moving trucks.

Another thing that some who know me have found surprising is the fact that I have several tattoos. Two are relatively small, the third larger though much degraded over time. All of them were taken from drawings I had done and executed by an old friend and former roommate, an amateur tattoo artist and amazing metalsmith.

Lately, I've found myself thinking about getting another tattoo. An early thought was a take on the octopus from the cover of Veruca Salt's Eight Arms to Hold You... but that has since been completely ruined.

This is probably a passing fancy, a poor suspicion to have when considering something as permanent as a tattoo. But, it's rattling around in there.

This is why it's never good when I've spent too much time on my own.