I'm thinking PRESIDENTIAL TRIFECTA THREE-PACK
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Friday, May 19, 2006
New t-shirt clinic continues
With the midterm elections on their way, I am working on some new, deliciously bipartisan designs. Can anyone really work out what these shirts mean? I am particularly pleased with the Nixon one. The colours are just for display purposes for now.
I am also thinking of re-doing the classic Jimmy Carter shirt as I think I can draw a better Jimmy now!
I am also thinking of re-doing the classic Jimmy Carter shirt as I think I can draw a better Jimmy now!
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Tshirt freedom clinic pt 3
This is kind of a follow up to my Jimmy Carter shirt. Times have changed - I'm just not sure how because it is late and I am getting confused in me brain.
Summer tshirt workshop 2
Here's a shirt that I made specially for R Stevens. It's Richard Belzer in a UFO, tractor beam-ing up a donut, flanked by the Stars and Stripes. it's unsaleable, but I definitely want one.
It originally said "Belzer ate my donut" but as if you couldn't work that out just by looking at it.
It originally said "Belzer ate my donut" but as if you couldn't work that out just by looking at it.
Friday, May 12, 2006
The gas man came-eth
Yesterday the gas man came round to service my boiler and look at my radiators. We always have good times, the gas man and me. Him with his outlandish "gas tools" and me with my paralysing fear that he will tell me my house has to be knocked down because of "gas problems".
This year's visit was a rollercoaster of emotions. Oh dear, says he, your boiler should not make any long term plans that involve a continued existence. From what I could tell, its insides are all twisted up (like Gollum's, perhaps). But this was expected. That thing had one yellow tooth left and a walking cane the day I bought this place.
Then, then came the best bit. I decided, as a treat to myself (and as a tribute to gas) to have my living room fire serviced. It is an exciting fire that produces hot, Bunsen burner-like flames that you can admire. I imagined the gas man would clean out a few tubes and nozzles, compliment me on a handsome and fiery appliance, then go on his way, whistling. Things did not work out like that at all.
John, he said, this thing is a death trap. You are lucky not to be dead from carbon monoxide poisoning. Your chimney is a non-functioning disgrace and you should seize every day because frankly, each one is a precious gift ill-deserved.
But, said I, see the pretty flames, how they dance! At which point he disconnected the offending heat-maker, tucked it under one sooty arm, and took his leave. It was probably for the best, thought I, gazing upon my ravaged hearth and checking for short-term memory loss.
I bought an electric fire today, which I thought would have led to some nice anecdotes about how I drilled some marble and knocked my house down, but sadly it took longer to extract it from its box than install it. The nice thing about the new fire is that you can turn the faux flames on without generating any heat.
I shall let the faux flames lick all decadent summer long.
This year's visit was a rollercoaster of emotions. Oh dear, says he, your boiler should not make any long term plans that involve a continued existence. From what I could tell, its insides are all twisted up (like Gollum's, perhaps). But this was expected. That thing had one yellow tooth left and a walking cane the day I bought this place.
Then, then came the best bit. I decided, as a treat to myself (and as a tribute to gas) to have my living room fire serviced. It is an exciting fire that produces hot, Bunsen burner-like flames that you can admire. I imagined the gas man would clean out a few tubes and nozzles, compliment me on a handsome and fiery appliance, then go on his way, whistling. Things did not work out like that at all.
John, he said, this thing is a death trap. You are lucky not to be dead from carbon monoxide poisoning. Your chimney is a non-functioning disgrace and you should seize every day because frankly, each one is a precious gift ill-deserved.
But, said I, see the pretty flames, how they dance! At which point he disconnected the offending heat-maker, tucked it under one sooty arm, and took his leave. It was probably for the best, thought I, gazing upon my ravaged hearth and checking for short-term memory loss.
I bought an electric fire today, which I thought would have led to some nice anecdotes about how I drilled some marble and knocked my house down, but sadly it took longer to extract it from its box than install it. The nice thing about the new fire is that you can turn the faux flames on without generating any heat.
I shall let the faux flames lick all decadent summer long.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
These are my confessions
My new fridge has arrived! I had to take the doors off the cupboard it lives in to accomodate this glossy white beast. So silent, so cold in its cupboard, an exciting monolith.
Unfortunately the men from Comet wouldn't take my old fridge on the same day because I hadn't defrosted it, so I had to put it in the back yard so it could spend the necessary 3 days leaking its icy cargo onto the back yard. But it was fortunate that they didn't take it, as I was informed that I couldn't turn the new one on for 12 hours! I put all my refridgerated items in the icy section, knowing they would be safe in my back yard. What a treat it was to go outside every time I wanted some ketchup or an egg. Splendid!
The following morning I awoke, excited about turning my new fridge on. I ran out into the back yard, avoiding a 7am snail, to retrieve my egg and ketchup. And what a vista! It was warm and sunny, the first warm morning of a burgeoning summer.
On the way back in, I accidentally trod on the snail.
Dear reader, I had to go back to bed for an hour, so bereft was I that even before I had thought my first thought of the day, I had taken the life of a small creature. What was worse, I actually trod on its remains again later. Messrs Insult and Injury had been invited to the party.
So what have we learned? Firstly, if you turn on your new fridge/freezer straight away, it will blow up. This may prove useful knowledge if you are ever held hostage in a white goods warehouse. Secondly, despite its mighty shell, a snail is no match for a foam flip-flop. And thirdly, nothing makes you feel more like poor white trash than a rusting, decades old refridgerator mouldering in your yard.
ADDENDUM: I have not tried other, more dangerous white trash techniques, like "rusting half car up on bricks" or "eighteen babies by eighteen daddies".
ADDENDUM 2: Does anyone want to buy two cupboard doors? White, old, faintly discoloured, heavy. Would suit someone easily pleased.
Unfortunately the men from Comet wouldn't take my old fridge on the same day because I hadn't defrosted it, so I had to put it in the back yard so it could spend the necessary 3 days leaking its icy cargo onto the back yard. But it was fortunate that they didn't take it, as I was informed that I couldn't turn the new one on for 12 hours! I put all my refridgerated items in the icy section, knowing they would be safe in my back yard. What a treat it was to go outside every time I wanted some ketchup or an egg. Splendid!
The following morning I awoke, excited about turning my new fridge on. I ran out into the back yard, avoiding a 7am snail, to retrieve my egg and ketchup. And what a vista! It was warm and sunny, the first warm morning of a burgeoning summer.
On the way back in, I accidentally trod on the snail.
Dear reader, I had to go back to bed for an hour, so bereft was I that even before I had thought my first thought of the day, I had taken the life of a small creature. What was worse, I actually trod on its remains again later. Messrs Insult and Injury had been invited to the party.
So what have we learned? Firstly, if you turn on your new fridge/freezer straight away, it will blow up. This may prove useful knowledge if you are ever held hostage in a white goods warehouse. Secondly, despite its mighty shell, a snail is no match for a foam flip-flop. And thirdly, nothing makes you feel more like poor white trash than a rusting, decades old refridgerator mouldering in your yard.
ADDENDUM: I have not tried other, more dangerous white trash techniques, like "rusting half car up on bricks" or "eighteen babies by eighteen daddies".
ADDENDUM 2: Does anyone want to buy two cupboard doors? White, old, faintly discoloured, heavy. Would suit someone easily pleased.
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