Sausages and a Perfect Circle.

The dogs have once again decided to bug the living shit out of me. I have walked them, given them a car ride, AND gave them the last hardboiled egg, which my gal was gracious enough to leave me, (for them.)
And now I'm busy burning my breakfast sausage..Fuck.
I decided to re-open my private studio, I am very busy painting, dusting, and doing general shit to tighten up the ship for the winter. A multi-tasking motherfucker, I guess you would say. I have had a very nice summer break, and for everyone that was patient, cool, and just in general, left me alone, I appreciate it.
I was burnt. Now I am not. Sometimes you have to step away from shit when it's fucking with you. Tattooing was, and I don't understand where it has gone. When a complete stranger says to me, 'nice work bro!' I fucking cringe...There are more appropriate ways to introduce yourself to somebody, (a simple hello in the produce section of the grocery store will usually suffice.) We can go from there.
The writing is going well and the studio business is a bit overwhelming, but I found my bucket of paint (so to speak,) and it's time for a new coat on the walls.

The new place will be called 'El Studio'..there will be a card this year, but you can only give it out to people that like unicorns...and now I'm burning my eggs..peace.

fancy new shit and stuff.

Welcome to the new century...3 months after much debate, we finally made the trek to the phone store to get last years model of a 'smarter phone then me.' WORD. We'll take two..I will go sit by the door, while this fellow downloads our business, my contacts, and whatever the fuck. The hangover is hard, and the lack of food in my stomach is a joke, and my fault alone.
So now we have our fancy new Verizon bag with our fancy new other shit and my gal couldn't be happier. Excellent..Now let's go figure out how to work this business..(the phones.)
I finally figured out how to answer it today, I have voice texting..what the fuck is that?  Once I learned how to swipe the screen to unlock it, things got alot easier. Finally got a little lunch over at the Trumpet house, which was cool..and then hit Caseys for the madness. The usual felonies were comitted, but there was a very nice gentleman at the bar that helped us set up the phone crap. We bought him a beer. He said that was 'not necessary,' I disagreed.
So all in all, it's going pretty well with the fancy new phones, I get my notifications all over the house, blinking lights, funny new whistles and things. and my dogs don't seem as confused as I do.
If any of you get any funny pictures of my thumb, it's because I can sometimes be an idiot, and am still figuring this crap out...By the wayside, Casa Di Mi Padre, was fucking hilarious.

sink the ship..go ahead.

Motherfuck me. Reality t.v. has hit an all time low. I'm not gonna lie, I keep up with the kardashians, and I know who Ramona is from real housewives..But I USED to know who dave navarro was back when he played guitar. What a fucking mooch merchant. Sell out piece of shit.
What in the hell is going on? Why are we buying this shit?  I guess the better question is, why am I buying this shit?
Week after week, I sit there, yelling at the t.v. because I actually know these 'characters.'  What in the heck?!  I know I make my 'remote jokes' all the time, but jesus christ, I have actually started stashing the damn thing in my back pocket while I'm grillin' some grub....and then....
I found myself flipping the channels between football and some real housewives reunion shit the other night...(while making a t-bone steak, btw)....just to keep my gal happy, not because I cared.
Ahem...AND THEN! I discovered Tattoo Rescue..Holy mother of fucking holy stuff.. Most ridiculous shit I have ever seen...Everyone should have kept this quiet...look at you now.
Luckily, I don't have to trip on it anymore and I think Janes Addiction can suck a dick these days any goddamn way, but I do feel for my longtime friends that have been exploited and pretty much fucked thru this media.
Shushh..your not suppose to give away our secrets. (Whoops, too late.)
Anyway, we're all sinking deeper, and it's our fault. Time to put that sign back on the wall that says "no camera's allowed.'
Oh, and fuck the Tuscon riff, I'm already over it.