art class. this is dave.  

tales from the hood

This was truly amazing. Growing up, we had the mottliest crue of children on our block. And the nicknames, ah, the nicknames, they were nothing short of wonderful. The pure creativity of children cannot be matched. We had Richard and Davy Crockett (real names) from the trailer court, Two Leslie, The amazing Chico, Matt Metal (who drove the dragon wagon) and had a mean mom, Sara and Lonnie (the deliverance kids), Beavis and his sister Action Jackson, Breather, Rampin' Reba, and the Inciminator. But next door to me lived a fabled group of children, the Happy Trash Kids.

The happy trash kids earned the nickname in a not so surprising way. Their father, Elmer, ran a trash collection business and the sign on his garbage truck simply read "Happy Trash" with a smiley face. Happy trash dad parked the garbage trucks behind their home which gave the neighborhood a quite unpleasant odor in the summer and also attracted rodents.

Some people are just doomed from day one. Not only did they have this glamorous nickname, but their parents happened to be Pentacostal.

While the happy trash children did not attend school with us, we occasionally played with them when nobody else was looking. It always had to be in front of their house as they were not allowed to cross the street. There were 4 in all, 3 girls and 1 boy, the girls always awash in Puritan style dresses, the boy in corduroy overalls. He used to pee his pants a lot, so seeing him with a growing dark stain around his crotch was not a real surprise. We spent our days throwing water balloons at them and they spent their's trying to save our souls (many others would attempt this later in life as well). The only conversation I actually remember word for word went a little something like this (I was around 11 or 12):

Happy Trash Girl: I know a place where the streets our paved with gold. Wanna know where it is?

Me: Yeah! (I was genuinely intrigued)

Happy Trash Girl: In heaven!! If you go to church with us we can help you to find your way there.

Me: I have to go inside now.

They attended services several times a week and sang psalms often. Eventually the trash trucks drove away and the happy trash kids moved. The neighborhood rumor was that dear Elmer, the happy trash dad, left the religous life and his wife and went back to boos, but I must note this was never confirmed.

The grand overture is a source of grand agony. 

Overheard at my house

E: I just did a 100 jumps. That's the most I have ever done (reffering to his jump roping skills)

R: That's nothing. Once I did a 1000.

E: A thousand jumps?

R: Yeah, but then I got a brain anheurisym and collapsed. I don't recommend trying it.

E: Dang.

E: The swamp is back. By next year it will spread to the living room.

R: We're going to have to walk around in hip waders.

Most of the main shapes are now blocked in. 

Oh did i come up with the most disturbing image ever for my skill crane. Dear friends, I have outdid myself. Yes, yes, its just a stripper with a skill crane, but do remember its art, and there is always a story to go with it. Harken back to 1992, my freshman year of high school, where the daughter of one of my sunday school teachers was the prettiest girl on the block. My school had some sort of event where you filled out a questionaire, the results were then compiled by a TRS-80 computer and we received a computer printout of who are best LOVE match was. And mine? Yes, the daughter of the sunday school teacher. Oh, how the boys were jealous. Fast forward to yesterday when I received a scandalous biker girl calendar in the mail. The pages did trigger my gag reflex, and didnt really entice me to by a motor bike, but low and behold, the once prettiest girl on the block laid stretched over a harley davidson customized motorcycle. You know, she didn't look quite the same as I remember. Obviously, catholicism had some sort of critical impact upon her. Tonight it occurred to me, my scandalous skill crane partner laid right before me. Et voila. 

six strings of splendor

For quite a while now, I have been in the market for a new guitar. However the current economic outlook coupled with overall consumer confidence index and the growing disparity in the import/export deficit of the gross national product make me a worried man and cause me to put all of my money in mason jars and bury them in my backyard. I finally broke down and decide to get a new one though. I went to the music store and found this one for 135 bucks. Eight years of classical guitar lessons under my belt and my one yearning desire is to have a guitart that looks like the one Buck Owens had on Hee-Haw. 

watch me

its disturbing
i love it
click me

Overheard at my house

I'm a collector. It's not comic books (since age 10) or stamps or anything like that. I collect words, phrases, and anything quirky or odd. I usually have a paper and pen with me at all times just in case. Tonight I was lucky enough to be sitting at the computer doing some photoshop stuff. This is what I heard, these were all yells (or hollars for the midwestern contingent):

"AAAARGHHHH! I got icy hot on my nuts!!!"

"How did you get icy hot on your nuts?"

"I was putting it on my shoulder and then I scratched my balls. It really burns!!!

Another skill crane doodle while eating dinner..... 

pranks and hijinx

I was at the craft store yesterday and found a sweet pink magnet that I thought would be perfect for some prank action. It was a big pink triangle..... here is what followed via email over the course of a half hour


E: did you put a magnet on the back of my jeep?

R: huh?

E: there was a pink magnet on the back of my jeep this morning that said "princess on board", i need to find out who put it on there so i can kill them

R: that is hilarious.
i almost peed my pants laughing.

E: nobody knows me or knows where i live, so i am baffled. i guess their
life is spared...


Like pinocchio, when I lie I have a dead giveaway. My nose doesn't grow, but I make a lie-face. To the untrained eye it's completey undetectable but to close friends and loved ones it's my tell-tale heart. I am so busted tonight.

This is the back of my house in Boon-Vegas. As depicted in the image, please notice the basement well windows. I made my room in the basement. In addition to this was a furnace room. The furnace room had built in shelving which allowed one to climb up, and squeeze through the window, thus, sneaking out for the night. The only problem was that slugs seemed to breed directly outside this window, so you emerged with a trail of slime on your shirt. The other dilemma was squeezing the fat asses of my girthy friends through the escape hatch. 

Prelim - sketch for new painting idea. 

Watercolor in the sketchy-sketch book is the supremely fun. It was either this, or watch Ty Pennington scream at people. I chose the former. 

Had to do it. 

flex appeal

After approximately 20 hours of travel, I arrived home late last night minus luggage and four pounds of lean body tissue. Whenever I return from a trip, I expect the worst when I opened up the door to my abode. Let me give you the play the by play.

First off, I pull into the driveway immedately noticing the abscence of the jeep. The brother is out on a Saturday night? Something must be amiss. I unlock the door the and step inside. I pause for a moment to let the smell of home surround me. "Hmmm, the stench is not quite so bad. How odd!"

My god, the carpets have been cleaned. The dining room has been cleaned too. Ah, but as I step into the living room my world becomes right again. Flex wheeler must have moved in during my absence. We now have a power cage and a weight bench in the living room.

Later, the brother arrived home.

E: "How was Japan?"

R: "Kind of sucked" "How was work this week?"

E: "Kind of sucked. Fred's been bad. He got dirty paws and a dirty stomach"

R: "I noticed that. There are 454 paw prints on my bed. Let's kick his ass"

F: "Blaugh blaugh blaugh blaugh!"

E: "Fred, we don't speak blaugh-blaugh." "Did you see my power cage?"

R: "Um,yeah. It's rockin."

E: "I'm getting buff."


The last time he bought weights his car was broken down (this was a common theme of our youth). He went to sears on his motorcycle, bought 40 lbs of dumbbells, put them in his back pack and attempted to drive home. Everything was cool until the first left turn and the weight shifted.

I have brilliant idea for a new painting. You know those skill crane machines in stores, the kind where you put in a quarter and manuver the claw above a valuable item? Anyways. I want to do Rockwellian painting of 3 little kids using a skill crane. The kids will be gleeful as the crane has just picked a grandiouse item. My twist, is i want the item to be something fucking horrific. I haven't decided what it will be yet though.

this place, the hotel lounge. 

 

bored in the airport 

some random sketches 

God created the world in 7 days

And for the past 7 days, i have spent every waking minute of the day surrounded by other people. Today at lunch, the rage gripped me in its violent grasp and I snapped.

"FUCK! That's it! I can't take any more people, I don't operate this way. Stop talking to me!" I started kicking the air and shouting.

"No offense to any of you, but I just really don't like people all that much. I want to go home and sit in my dining room on the floor. I am riding the train back by myself tomorrow, I am putting in my headphones, and not speaking nor making eye contact with anyone."

Everyone started laughing at the point, which just fed the blaze of the rage's flames.

"It's no joke, don't force me to pull a batman and disappear into the shadows. I am giving you all fair warning, speak to me tomorrow and I will slug you in the gut."

BOOYAH!

 

 

I'm not sure what the sheets on the bed are made of, but they have refrigerative properties. They hold cool temperatures and it is ooh lala. As soon as you hit the sheets, your appendages flail about looking for crevices. Arms and quickly become nestled underneath the stacks of pillows. I haven't shave for about 4 days and it makes me depressed. While I have many skills, growing a beard is definitely not one of them. The best i can do is joe dirt style. A hairy neck, a disconnected moustache, and some cheek patches.  

Valentine's Day Special - presented by Newgrounds.com

Valentine's Day Special - presented by Newgrounds.com: Happy valentines day.

warm buns

5:45 am Tuesday morning.

I went to sleep last night at 6:30 pm, waking at around 4 am. My body is wrecked and demanding fatty greasy food.

The highlight of the day was lunch. We went to a really cool traditional restaurant, complete with baby tables, pillows to sit on, girls in kimonos, and food i did not recognize. It was mainly tofu with all the fixins'. The taste? I think its aquired.

The taxis are an odd experience. First off, they are immaculately clean. No smell of B.O. or cigarettes. Also the drivers wear suits and white cotton gloves.

Business travel is so freaky. You are stuck in a foreign place, jet lagged, with nothing to watch on television in the early morning hours. I find myself sitting on the heated toliet seat reading Arthur C. Clark and waiting for McDonalds to open so I can get an egg McMuffin.

Bennifer came in late last night, so at least I have someone to have dinner with now.

Lord Raiden was randomly hanging out and chillin' on the street. 

 

 

 

 

 

These little kids followed me around for awhile, finally, one asked if he could take a picture with me. I told him it was cool but I needed a shot of them too.