Tres Bizarre

Ummm ... Guess What?

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 03:58:00 +0000

I am going to give everyone who wrote me a love note a prize! Yay!

Only one grand prize winner will get the special love sauce, but everyone else will get something too. I will be sending you a reply tonight. So, if you sent me a love note, and don't receive a note later tonight, email me again and remind me that I might've forgotten that you too sent me a little note.

Ooh! Looky! It's Brock and he's barking! What a surprise! He's usually so meek and quiet.

Tell Me Everything I'm Not But Please Don't Tell Me To Stop

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 22:49:00 +0000

Before you read the rest of this entry, go enter my contest, if you are not one of the two people that have already done so.

*****ENTER THE CONTEST PORTAL.******
*******************************************************************************************************
I think that the next time you do housework you should definitely listen to Ray of Light by Madonna because nothing says, "Get your shit done," like Madonna during her gay club music phase ... not that she's ever totally left that scene, but she definitely produced that album with young polished men who have well defined eyebrows and more hair products than me in mind.

Okay, now that I've given you your helpful life hint for the day, here are some pictures of my most recent masterpiece. This one was a present for Paigetron's 2007 birthday but I just finished it this weekend. Shut up.

I gave this to Paigetron at about 11 AM on Sunday and by 4 PM she was puking her guts out. Correlation?

Speaking of Paigetron, she is currently, as they said in biblical times, "big with child."

Speaking of being big with child, I have a new nephew who just so happened to be born yes-tar-day. His name is Newborn-O-Matic and he is perfect. I got to hold him when he was exactly 12 hours old and he didn't cry a single time while I was there. I think he might've been in denial of his birth. (If I don't wake up, I can pretend I'm still in utero.) As I understand it, birth can be traumatic for the bay-bay. He was early, but thank goodness because he was nearly nine pounds. Another week and that little son of a gun would've been a ripper in every sense of the word. He has the patented O-Matic mouth, with an upper lip that protrudes over the lower lip, which allows for the most peaceful sleeping faces ev-arrrr. Love him love him love him.

In November H-Tar and JahJah are having a baby too.

I am NOT having a baby. Ever again. I love it when other people have them, and I loved it when I had them, but I'm out.

You know, you really should commission me while I'm cheap, and when I say "cheap" I'm mean ... not expensive ... Sillies. And when I say "commission me" I mean for paintings, not for babies. Sorry for flipping subjects so erratically.

Wait.

No I'm not.

Iloveyoulikeamasonlovemortar.

Well You Can Tell By The Way I Use My Walk

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 00:35:00 +0000

Have any of you ever woken up in the middle of the night because you couldn't get the tune from Cheers out of your head? "Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name ..." I went to my dentist this week and he said he couldn't get "Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah"out of his head. I often have trouble with "If You Seek Amy" by Britney Spears and "Don't Trust Me" by 3OH!3 too. I was whistling the tune before school in the hallway and Fourteen-O-Matic heard me. She chastised me and told me it wasn't exactly the best idea for a teacher to be whistling a songs about not trusting hos.

Today, I was sitting on my ass and my phone rang. It was my dad. He said, "Do you need a Cuisenart?" I said, "No. I have a food processer already." (It's not a Cuisenart.) And he said, "Okay, well I just bought a leather jacket for twenty dollars and two wicker chairs for one hundred dollars!" I asked him where he was and he told me he was at "some place called hassenpfeffer or something." He explained where it was and so I immediately loaded Hubbetron and the O-Matics into my car and we drove there. It was actually called "HayNeedle", but it was a huge warehouse of a store that I didn't even know existed. But they do.

So, of course, while we were there, we saw Wakotron and Amandotron and my neice, Almost-Five-O-Matic as well as my mum and dad, who had an entire pallet of stuff. They had to borrow a truck to get it all home.

Hubbetron and I purchased a pair of Austrailian sheepskin boots by Koolaburra ($10) and a 16 inch dutch oven! I wanted to buy a rainbow hammock but Hubbetron said I was taking it too far. Fourteen-O-Matic bought some freakin' sweet slippers that I will probably vulturize once she's done with them.

Hubbetron says they look like gorilla feet. I think they look like Muppet feet. I would definitely have black fur if I were a Muppet.

Someday, these will be mine. These are the flippin' sweet slippers I was telling you about. I've raised this kid to have good taste in everything.

Iloveyoulikeadonkeylovesacarrotonastring.

Rockin' the Walken

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Sun, 06 Sep 2009 21:41:00 +0000

HELLO!

My name is Morgetron.

Do you remember me?

To reacquaint you with all that is Morgetron, I will remind you of the following things. I am a robot. I like to surf the internerts. My favorite color is black. I wrote a book but it is still just a draft and I have been temporarily stifled which is why I so lamely hardly ever post anything and so lamely no longer comment on other peoples' bloggsies. I am hoping that my blog will be a place to get my ya-yas out again though and it's a helluva lot cheaper than a professional therapist.

Because I want to get this party started again, I felt that the best way to do so would be to have a contest.

If you want to be considered for a fabulous prize (a bottle of Pure Instinct roll on cologne),

please drop me a line at morgetron@gmail.com. Send me a love note. In the subject line write, "LOVE NOTE". I will then print off all of your love notes, sleep with them in my pillow case for at least three nights consecutively, and place them into a large hat and draw one out ALL ON VIDEO you crazeh voyeurs! If I draw your note, you get the sexy time cologne. This cologne smells different on different people. It's supposedly interacts with your pheromones and on some people it smells like fruit and others it smells like rain and others it smells like cat urine. Kidding about the cat urine ... all of the variations are pleasant. It has mango seed in it, so I can't use it or I will die a horrible unnatural gory painful and untimely death. So, if you win, not only will you be getting a sweet-assed prize, you'll also be saving my life. You can use this to signal to your partner that you are in the mood. If you do not have a partner, you can use to it signal to complete strangers that you would be willing to go into a stall in the women's restroom at Long John Silvers to compare tattoos. It's very useful stuff.

Please. Enter my contest. I rely on you for my self esteem.

Back in review ... as you can see my hair is recovering from its run-in with Hubbetron's clippers, but it does bare a striking resemblance to Christopher Walken's hairstyle,

or as Hubbetron suggests, like Lion-o from Thundercats.

For a while I was feeling a lot like Janet Reno. So, thank God that phase is over.

Thanks for your patience Sillies. Now drop me a line already.

Iloveyoulikeatruckerwithhemorrhoidsloveshisdonutcushion.

Ohhhh Say Can You See?

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 17:46:00 +0000

I don't particularly like 'splosions.

I am recovering from the baldness.

Snappy Fourth O July to yah, Sillies!

If I wasn't so tired of being bald, I would actually shave my head into an actual mohawk because I am going to WAKotron's house today and he always shaves his head into a mohawk for the Fourth and I feel like that would be an effective way to mess with him. *Sigh* Alas, I must grow my locks.

So I'm settling for a fauxhawk. Do you like it?

Of course you do.

Iloveyoulikeaseamlovesacameltoe.

PS: My knee is bleeding.
PPS: I shaved today. And you know when I shave, I do it right.

Hey you caught me in a coma

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Sat, 23 May 2009 21:29:00 +0000

Right now, this blog is sleeping the sound sleep, only a coma can bring. It can hear you. It knows what you and Uncle Ralph are saying about it while it slumbers peacefully. Your singing is therapuetic, believe it or not. The poetry readings are a bit of an overkill, but appreciated nonetheless.

Your constant vigil is most appreciated.

Remember, many blogs recover 100% from comas.

Time will tell.

No one on the corner has swagger like us Hit me on my Burner prepaid wireless

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Sun, 15 Feb 2009 16:20:00 +0000

I Am A Raging Ball of Hormonal Wonder Right Now

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Fri, 30 Jan 2009 13:34:00 +0000

I am crying because I missed the Diego Rivera exhibit.

So I Ran Faster But It Caught Me Here

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Fri, 30 Jan 2009 03:34:00 +0000

This is how I feel sometimes:

Discuss.

I'm Sick Of Your Mouth And Your 2 Percent Milk

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Fri, 30 Jan 2009 02:55:00 +0000

Wish I Was Ocean Size, They Cannot Move You, No One Tries

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Sun, 11 Jan 2009 06:22:00 +0000

Here's the deal:I've decided that, once again, you Sillies, are going to help me.

So, thank you in advance.

In just a few moments, or days, or perhaps a week or two, I am going to publish an excerpt from an early draft of my book.

I am doing this, of course, because if I don't set a deadline for myself, and have someone outside myself holding me accountable, I will not finish my goal.

And ... if I don't finish my book by the end of my leave of absence, I will punch myself in the face.

As you well know, I am a very delicate flower, and a punch to the face, even by a sally like me, could lead to withering ... which could lead to death, by withering, or, even worse, an unsightly black eye.

I don't plan on punching myself in the face just once either.

It will be repeatedly and perhaps with brass knuckles or at the very least with the giant ring my grandma gave me for Christmas.

Thank you for saving me from this fate by tuning in.

By being there.

By being silly enough, dear Sillies, to pay attention to this tomfoolery.

PS: YES. The pics ARE backwards.

Meow

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Thu, 08 Jan 2009 16:31:00 +0000

I got my hairs cut.

I decided that I wanted to stop dying my hair after nearly 15 years of it and the smartest, most efficient way to do that is to hack it off and start over.

I went to this place by my house and told her, "I want a bob with layers." She did that. She followed my instructions. I went home and said, "This is not me. I look like a housewife." When Hubbetron got home, he said, "You look good -- like a housewife." So later, when I took Thirteen-O-Matic to get her hair trimmed, I took a pick of an even shorter 'do.

This is it. I will have to maintain this hairstyle while it grows out.

Hubbo and I just watched "Tipping The Velvet" which was a mini-series about crossdressing female performers of the 1890s in England. The main characters were Nan and Kitty.

He calls me Kitty now.

A Little Laugh

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Thu, 08 Jan 2009 16:06:00 +0000

LMAO at the geese.

There Goes My Hero, Watch Him As He Goes

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 00:55:00 +0000

Dear Jesus,

I'm so sorry that I referred to your birthday as "x-mas" when I emailed my friend to ask him for his address so I could send him an ~~x-mas~~ Christmas card.

I realize that the least I can do is to, when making reference to the day of your birth, take the extra time to spell out C-h-r-i-s-t-m-a-s and taking care to press the "shift" and "c" keys simultaneously as to ensure the capitalization of the first letter of your holiday.

As you know, I am a horrible, terrible, no-good, very bad sinner, and I don't deserve your love. Thank you for loving me despite my long list of shortcomings.

Love always,
Jodie

PS: If you're wondering why I wrote this, it's because of the following series of emails. You're not wondering though, are you Jesus? You know everything. I mostly am just including this postscript for the benefit of those of my readers who are less-than-omnipotent.

--
Email 1:
--
Hey XXX,

May I have your mailing address so I can send you an X-mas card?

-Jodie

--
jodiferous consuela maria conchita francesca minerva octavian morgetron

Read, read, read to your babies.

When you have time, check these out:
http://morgetron.blogspot.com/
http://www.helium.com/user/show/91091

--
Email 2
--

Hey J,

[Address provided]

Better give yours too so I can reciprocate.

Take care my friend. And have a merry Christmas. :)

XXX

--
NOTE: Oops. I just realized I forgot to send him my. I'll get on that XXX!
--
Email 3
--
Got the card, Jodie. Thank you - nice gesture.

But -

screaming materialism aside, you, of all people with your new-found belief, should really be calling it by it's legitimate moniker, Christmas, not xmas (xmas doesn't even deserve a capital!)

For it IS actually the Man's birthday (actually, I hear recently it's rumoured to be September the 21st...however, that's not the point).

You take it easy now, J.

Warm thoughts.

XXX

--
Email 4
--

XXX,

Thank you for sharing your opinion and for judging me on how I handle my beliefs. I will take your opinion into consideration, but cannot guarantee that you will change my evil ways.

Blessed be.

Jodie

--
Email 5
--

Ahh, you say you will, but really...you know...you won't. This is a matter at the core of your (and one-time mine) belief. Hey, I'm not knocking it - but this most precious of dates has been fucking hijacked. (Why won't you talk about it?)

And I won't stand for it.

And now for the piece de resistance...

Don't let your self assurance and memories of our one-time prolonged difference of opinion blind you to this. You never have, nor ever will it seems, conceded anything. That's why you're great.

That's why I'm fond of you.

But in this you must. Trust me, I know.
(He shoots! He scores!)

It's a Christian celebration of ...God (I know - Jesus; the three are one - the paradox that demands faith - in turn the essence of all belief).

So...bloody xmas out!

Don't make me call you woman...my polyester princess! Hoho.
.
Best wishes to you and yours.

God (speaking through XXX and preparing to bring famine and pestilence to you if you don't do as you're bloody told, woman).

--
Wait for it ...
--
Another Note: Jesus understands me.

Still My Guitar Gently Weeps

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Mon, 05 Jan 2009 03:29:00 +0000

Let the January 2007 Archives begin:

This is the one I made and I gave to BFF H-Tar as a sort of Christmas-New-Year-I-Love-You present.

Editorial Note from the Present: Good thing I didn't call it a "tradition" because as it turns out -- it isn't.

That's is, after all, every woman's dream -- to look like Kevin Bacon.

I would also like to tell you that I will be voting for Hillary in the primaries. I will tell you why later.

I was drawing the karaoke singers. They were not naked, but I was imagining they were.

Vanity is a nefarious mistress.

My package from Mr. Fabulous arrived a few days ago.

For instance, according to the above linked site, you must be a genius to understand the Nebraska Humane Society's website, the Barbie website, PostSecret, and the Ebay website.

Just Because You Can, Doesn't Mean You Should.

For those who couldn't make it past my manifesto from yesterday...

Welcome to America! Land of the free!!!!!!!!!!!!

Then one of the dogs peed on the floor in a really strange swirly pattern as if he was twirling around like a ballerina as he peed.

Eighteen Rules on How To Have A Sure-Fire Rip-Snorter of a Party

This lady is hauntin g my dreams.

R-botron forced us to make pipe cleaner animals. She said we weren't allowed to leave until everyone made one.

Please Note: Arbotrons party was the inspiration for the party Hubbo and I threw on Friday. Since Arbo is far far away she couldn't throw it.

Let the BART begin.

Oh yah. I got a new job.

I will be posting pics of The Albatross Gift Exchange tomorrow or maybe never. We'll see.

Iloveyoulikemydogslovetochewonthingsthatdon'tbelongtothem.

100% Polyester Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Tue, 23 Dec 2008 04:15:00 +0000

All photos by Amandotron

Snazzy Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Wed, 17 Dec 2008 17:37:00 +0000

The Seasonal Morgetron Photo Shoot is done. Amandetron was the photog, and Mometron and Dadetron's Christmas tree was the quaint backdrop. If you want a seasonal postcard, send me your mailing address: morgetron@gmail.com -- or else I can send it to your email address if you don't like sharing your physical address with people you meet on the internerts.

Update: Draft one of the book will be done by the end of 08! Even if it kills me and someone else has to do the revisions.

I love you. Thank you for your patience. Amen.

Merry Christmletoe Sillies!

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Fri, 12 Dec 2008 18:31:00 +0000

Archives: Check My Flow -- Uuuuyh

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 04:21:00 +0000

Here's a little walk down MorgyMemoryLane (December 2007 Archives):

Morgy and Hubbo ditch the tab.

Choose your own adventure.

Sad Omaha.

Get on your Silly Horse and ride. (I'm happy to say that the art sold.)

Strangely, it's G's berfday today!

If You Were Morgetron, your life would be different.

I wrote a poem about this one time, but I don't feel like posting it because SOME WEIRDO MIGHT STEAL IT! Just kidding. It's because I'm too shy.

I wanted to give you an example of exactly how much control I have over my dogs.

Remember: You too can own a Morgetron original, by going to CHAMELEON in the OLD MARKET in OMAHA."

So Fabo finally got his smack together and has been making attempts at a Phyllis Diller sculpey (which is another one of his specialties -- along with offending as many people as possible at all times, while still remaining a nice guy).

And now for a regrettably brief pictorial: (Read) HolyFatMan and Aaronichi! Hi doooods!

The most amazing thing I ever gave away on Freecycle was a broken vacuum cleaner.

Do you approve of this green eye make-up? This night turned out ... um ... wowzies!

I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 12:50:00 +0000

I'm taking another break. It hurts, but this book isn't going to write itself.

Stay Tuned.
I'll be posting archives later.

Keep in touch. morgetron@gmail.com

Turkey for me, turkey for you; let's eat the turkey in my big brown shoe

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Thu, 27 Nov 2008 06:01:00 +0000

Tonight Sixer and I were pretending to be pilgrims who came to America to escape religious persecution.

This was her idea, I swear.

We had to speak with English accents and complain about The Queen. (Yes, yes, yes, I realize it was mainly Kings who were doing the persecuting, but I was just enjoying Sixer's take on history.)

She made Hubbetron dress like "an England person" the other day too. This consisted of wrapping her winter scarf around his neck, tying it tightly ... sort of like an ascot, except ... NOT ... and smoothing his hair. (I know! He's bald! I guess "England people" have smooth smooth smooth heads -- I don't know. She wanted him to cross his legs too, incidentally.)

She kept saying things like, "That certainly was a long voyage over here. Too bad so many of our people died on that ship," and "Tomorrow we will return to England to see grandmum and celebrate Thanksgiving!" Awww, the irony of being six. Love it.

I asked her what would happen if we returned to England and The Queen wouldn't allow us to come back to the Americas. Her solution, "Perhaps she wouldn't notice if we sailed away on a new voyage. She can't watch us all the time."

So ... anyway ... I know that our play session wasn't exactly historically accurate ... however, it was fun listening to her use a British accent all night, and living in a "cottage" and fluctuating between being "peasants" and "pilgrims" and hopping in a ship every damn time we needed any old thing from England.

Peasant 1: "We seemed to have forgotten our dog."

Peasant 2: "No worries. Let us return to England at once to fetch him."

Peasant 2: "Oh no! I've forgotten my tea cup!"

Peasant 1: "I will go grab it from England. No problem!"

Peasant 1: "Dear me! Where is that bonnet that you sewed for me when I turned 11?"

Peasant 2: "I'll grab it presently when I return to England to gather firewood, since we can't seem to find any here on this ... rock. What's it called? Oh yes ... Plymouth Rock. No wood. No wood indeed."

I hope you get to play Peasant Pilgrims and England people today too, unless you are an England person. In that case ... maybe you could play Native American Disaster of 1492? In any case, OD on tryptophan, will yah?

IamthankfulforyouALLdearSillies.

She Says She Has No Time For You Now

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Thu, 27 Nov 2008 01:41:00 +0000

You need one of these. It's your lucky day. You can buy mine.

The earth looked like it was lit from within like a poorly assembled electrical ball

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Wed, 26 Nov 2008 20:23:00 +0000

Every once in a while I set little goals for myself. Not very often though, because blaaah ... goals = work, and who likes to do that?

Today I quietly set a goal for myself without really thinking about it. Afterwards, I was like daaaamn! Now I have some work to do.

The goal? To make eye contact with people.

I am really really really really really painfully shy with people that I don't know very well. Most people don't believe when I say that because they either know me well enough that I'm not shy with them, or they know me from the internerts where I don't have to make eye contact with them, thus ... shyness averted. Also, I'm a teacher, so people are like, "How can you walk into a room of kids if you're shy?" and to be honest, that first week after I meet my new students, is excruciating. Once I have a week of interaction with the kids, I'm cool, but ouchy! That first week tastes like burning.

I also LIKE meeting new people, but it takes me a long time to be able to look them in the eyes.

Frequently, people think I don't like them, because of my lack of eye contact paired with my whole face issue. So, that typically translates into me not having very many in-person friends. However, I will say that those who stick around and work through my social awkwardness, are the true kind.

Once I get to know you, then eye contact is no longer an issue and you get to know that my face is what it is and does what it does and you know that even though I look grumpy, I really do like you.

So, next time I see you, if I don't look you in the eye, make sure to remind me of my goal.

---

Yesterday, Thirteener and I were brainstorming for her six senses assignment (the sixth one is emotion -- not seeing dead people) and we were both struck by a fit of ADHD, which was really fun, but made it ... um ... difficult ... to concentrate on the assignment! Mutual ADHD does not happen very often in our house. Usually one of us has it and the rest of us are annoyed, but when we cycle in together ... watch out world! We's ca-ray-zahhhh!

Thirteen-O-Matic, at one point, said, "I wish I could carry around a camera with me to take your photo because you make the weirdest faces and I want you to see yourself. You are so weird," she emphasized in case I hadn't caught the phrase "weirdest faces" in the preceding sentence. "For instance," she continued, "right now, you have a double chin and buck teeth."

---

Whenever we have a planned event, like Thirteen-O-Matic's graduation from the gang resistance program the county sheriff sponsors the other day, (Huh? I know ... Weird! I think it's so she can resist the children of the corn, or maybe it's because there was a grant and someone was like ... if we don't use this money it will disappear, so let's teach small town kids about resisting gangs, and we can use some of the money for t-shirts too!) I always threaten to walk in with a hunchback limp, speak with a pronounced lisp that involves much spittling, or with the classically twitchy eye.

When I was getting ready to go to the graduation I told her I was going to walk in and announce that "Thirteener's mommy's here ... stand back y'all! I forgot my cam-ra an I need to take a picture with ma mind. SNAP!" She always reacts as though I'm actually going to go through with it.

I would no sooner do that, than eat a glass onion. Okay, so I've eaten a glass onion ... who cares? I was only 8 and it was shiny! But I'm shy. I'm all talk. She forgets this because I always make eye contact with her.

I forget sometimes too.

I Can't Stop Thinking About ...

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 14:09:00 +0000

... one of the PostSecret postcards from yesterday. I am not posting a link because it's soooooooo gross that I don't want to be responsible for this postcard haunting your every waking thought like it has mine. It's gross and apparently it's fake, but I still can't stop thinking about it. Sick sick sick.

I was packing myself a cold lunch today because I know I'm going to be out and about and don't want to waste money on restaurant food and I had to choose a new apple because the apple I originally chose reminded me of that postcard just slightly -- enough that I knew I wouldn't be able to bring it to my lips without getting gaggy.

---

THEN ... yesterday at church, this guy told us this metaphorical story about hot chocolate and how it doesn't matter what cup you use to drink it and la la la, but during his little presentation, which was totally jacked from the internerts, he had this horrible instrumental version of "We've Only Just Begun" by the Carpenters accompanying him. All I could think about was that Stephen King movie, with John Cusack in the hotel room ... 1409 ... and that's on my top ten list of things I should not being thinking about at church.

---

AND ... I keep getting stuck in the twilight sleep between being awake and being asleep and I can't breathe. I am aware that I am not breathing, but I can't wake myself up enough to start breathing. It's scary and panicky and I don't know what to do about it. Sixer was in my bed the other morning when it happened and I kept trying to say her name because I thought it would help me wake up and it didn't, or maybe it would've had I actually been able to see her name. I couldn't say her name and I couldn't breathe and I felt very scared indeed. I'm not sure if I passed out or what, but eventually I woke up breathing. Does this happen to anyone else?

---

OH, and today, I locked my keys in my car at Sixer's school. Luckily Rodnetron was driving by with his O-Matics and he gave me a ride to he and Paigetron's house, so I could wait out of the cold until the locksmith arrived. The car was running and there were Barbies on my dashboard. I wanted to go downtown to write my book in a coffee shop and the Joslyn and so I was late. I took out my membership card to the Joslyn when I finally got my car unlocked and what do you know ... they're closed on Monday. Tomorrow I'm subbing. Wednesday I'm tutoring. Thursday is Thanksgiving YAYZ ... and Friday is who knows ... not a writing day. So, I'm at Bruegger's writing today. Goodbye I HAVE TO GO!

I'm out of sorts. All out of sorts folks.

This is simply a vent for my sally frustrations.

Thank you for listening.

When You Grow Up More ...

noreply@blogger.com (J Morgetron) — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 15:23:00 +0000

Yesterday, Six-O-Matic said after a day filled with artistic endeavours, "When you grow up more, I bet you'll be an artist." That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a long time. :)

Here are the fruits of our labor:

We kicked it off with some watercolor.

Sixer likes to take my cast-offs and alter them. This one is eerily entitled, "Ghost Mommy."

This is a Sixer Original ... It's me.

I returned the favor by painting her portrait.

This was how my mom's birthday present began. (Her birthday was is October. Heheheh.) But if you know me, you know that nothing ever ends how it begins in this house.

Phase 2
Phase 50.

This was the end result. She gave me mag clippings and I made a mosaic of most of 'em on the right and cut out actual shapes on the left. When I gave it to my mom she said, "Ahhh. Interesting."
Sixer worked on an alien for the better part of the afternoon. She gave it to my mom too. All of the finished product photos have her face in them ... and you know how I feel about that.

Here's another beginning that barely suggests the end. The end has not arrived yet.

Sharpie Town.
Unfinished.

The beginning?
Once the collage hits, she won't be the same.

This deco will be sanded and altered. I love me some religious icons

This will be something. I promise.