smothered hope

So, I'm at home today, thanks to mystery nausea and sore ribs. I have made more washroom visits since 7.30am than I'd care to mention (though I suppose I just did - oh, the irony!). I've managed to get a load of dishes done, air out the flat of the intolerable stench emanating from the bathtub (?!), and make some soup, which, hopefully, I will not have to sacrifice to the Porcelain Goddess. And yes, I intend to take this time to refine the portfolio I need to turn in tomorrow, as well as write that suck-up letter I whined about yesterday.

In unrelated news, I found this photoset, which is a tribute to probably the most hilarious pin-up painter of all-time, Mr. Art Frahm. You see, once upon a time, when the intarwubs was new to me, and I had no job, and had not yet established the angst-fest you have come to know and love as this humble Diaryland page, my friend Rachel would send me funny shit to read via e-mail. Cheering me up with jokes and online games, she one day tossed me a link to the Lileks Institute of Official Cheer, and as I perused it's hallowed pages, I found the afore linked section on Mr. Frahm's peculiar pin-ups. For those of you who don't feel inclined to click the link, Frahm seemed to be obsessed with the idea of a woman's undies suddenly dropping to the ground around her ankles as she conducted her daily business. The paintings invariably feature a woman in public carrying a grocery bag (and said bag nearly always has celery stalks poking from the top), looking terrifically embarrassed as some public servant or other looks on is juvenile delight. These are a scream, especially with Mr. Lileks' commentary attached. So when I found the Flickr set which had replaced 1950s' housewives with 2000s suicide girls (I doubt they're all, if any actual SG models, but the title still applies), I thought I just had to share the naughty goodness with you guys. I'm swell, ain't I?

I suggest you check the Lileks link first to grasp full appreciation of the Flickr set. If you really want a full reference, and you're nowhere in which nudie pin-ups are prohibited viewing, check out the Suicide Girls link on the right-hand side of this page (and then sign up for an account, so's I can accumulate points and get free schwag). Unless, of course, you're disgusted by the idea of women with tattoos, piercing and weird clothes, in which case, I'll have to ask what the hell you're doing here.

Speaking of unconventional models, I've become one recently. I've met a painter who's new in town, and not only is he a fantastic guy to hang out with, he's a frighteningly talented artist. I've added a link to his site along the right with all my other tchotchkies, because he so deserves the attention. The modeling is rather easy, actually: he sets up a pose he wants, photographs it, and works from the reference photo. Which is, frankly, a relief, especially in the case of the pose involving tied up feet and pretzel-like contortions. (Though the one involving me laying on a table was perfectly comfortable, and I probably would have fallen asleep there, had he allowed me to.) So, yeah, I'm a model!

My soup has doubtlessly cooled by now (since it's about 10 degrees in here), and I've much flat-cleaning and other procrastination to do before I compile my application documents. Pray to the Angry Porcelain Goddess that I shan't have to make any more prostrate sacrifices today....

back | forth

listening:
reading:
ingesting:
(see entries before 20.11.05)

previously on Smothered Hope:

unreal - 20.05.08
in which our narrator kinda just babbles on a bit - 15.05.08
drank several margaritas last night. they were great. - 04.05.08
spacey - 29.04.08
i will most definitely regret posting this in public - 28.04.08