Dear Art.

You, frisket, are a monster. Not only do you ensure that my future children will be born with 8 arms, 4 heads and alcoholism, but you also smell like ass, not only during use, but for days afterward. You have foiled me for the last time, frisket. This art project was my EVERYTHING. PREPARE FOR WAR.

haiikuus about pugs

oh you little pug,

so cute, so wrinkly and sweet,

think I'll name you Bug.

Bebop will be black

a sweet little muffin of

ugly lovey joy

(not my pugs. yet......)

post numero uno.

So I must admit that I never would consider myself a blogger, but I really think a record of the whacky nonsense that happens in my life would be beneficial. So to start off the set, a picture of me in my pj's playing ukulele too late at night!