artomatic, shambles and death by tiny birds

Sorry for the lack of bloggage yesterday. I was busy tending to my helper horse Sven. He got a little carried away with the roman candles on Saturday and set his fine mane aflame. Then when I threw a few shots of rum over to him to put it out, it really only made matters worse. Finally, he stopped, dropped and rolled. Like the wise, albeit cliched, Native American taught me on GI Joe.



Well, Sven, now we know.

And when I wasn't alternately killing then helping Sven not self-immolate, I was actually out doing sh*t. Mainly, I finally went to Artomatic! And, boy, was it arty! And a little big retardy...but we'll get to that later.

First up -- my favorites (from the small amount I was able to see in two hours. Oh and my camera ran out of batteries after the first 30 minutes. And also, I forgot to write down anyone's name. This is why I plan never ever to go back into journalism. I hate necessary information.)

I don't know who made this, but it looked like a giant piece of candy. Sweet.

Connor Glenn's sh*t is tight.

The fanciest toilet I've ever had the pleasure to poop on. Just kidding. It's not functional. And, yes, that somehow stopped me.


The most macabre Peeps diorama I've ever, well, peeped.


The District used to be cool. I guess. At least compared to now. Never mind the ill-fitting white pants you see before you...


And speaking of ill-fitting pants, this guy clearly didn't get the District-wide memo! First off, he's not even wearing pants! In fact, as you can see through the art of this blurry photograph by The Anti DC, who forgot to enter this year's Artomatic, he's barely wearing shorts. Yet, still, they are perfect. The Perfect Shambles. (I'll be selling prints for $0.99, discount for bulk buys.)

And now, I present to you the bad:

This just seems like a terrible waste of a bike to me...


And this kind of barf proved all too prevalent. Just because you own a glue gun, doesn't make you a talented artist. And just because you glue random, creepy sh*t to a tutu, does not make you a visionary. Sorry. I'm a harsh critic.

And now for the most thought provoking:

Joseph Hale certainly piqued my interest with this one and not just because this dog looks uncannily like Steve, the name I plan to give one of the huskies I plan to own in the future that will pull me on a sled along the Iditarod. And not just because it got me thinking about how short and precious life can be lest we get attacked by a small swarm of tiny birds. (What the f*ck are those, canaries?) No, this got me thinking because I'm confused. First off, speaking of those canaries, they really don't look like carnivores. Why are they eating Steve? And secondly, there certainly seems to be a lack of blood streaming out of that giant, gaping, possibly tiny-bird induced wound. Where's the science? I guess that's what artistic license is for. Welcome to my mind. It's a warm and fuzzy place. :)

But luckily, that's pretty much the hardest I was forced to think the entire weekend. Life really is precious.