When we draw, we're encouraged to draw from photo-reference, you know, so we don't draw stupid. I wonder why the same is not required for dreams, for last night I dreamed about being under someone of unnatural rotundity, and if my brain is going to send me something THAT disturbing in the wee, impressionable hours of the night, I would like it to ( Read more... )

My pants. What, the fuck, my friends, is up with my pants.

"Pants," i say to my pants, "I paid so much for you. I thought you were great pants. Why now this? Why?"

And my pants, they look at me, a little sheepishly, but they don't respond. Damn pants.

What I mean, reader, is that my pants do not fit. Nay! No; it is not that they don't fit. They do fit ( Read more... )