I have some damned cool friends, I just wish they were NOT born in December. I hate cold weather. This is ironic given that I was born in January, but I digress…
My buddy Mark celebrated his 35th birthday party on Monday. I attended the celebration and was not disappointed: Mark and his wife Heather (the only woman I will defer to as being “Heather #1”) were gracious hosts.
Mark is by far the most talented painter I have ever met. People like him are the reason I chucked my paint brushes and went to other means of provocation. Seriously. If you do not believe me, check this out:
A boxing clown. On a lifeboat. Need I say anything else?
But I will (say something else).
This image reminds me of my husband’s workplace tormentor: a socially-inept/surly person who, by forces unknown and evil (READ: bureaucracy), was given a Management position (not unlike George Bush II). My husband’s moodswings are tied to this man’s caprices like my ‘Aunt Flo’ is connected to the lunar cycle.
Tonight we had double hitter. My pants don’t fit right and this jackass pre-empting my blogging time made me mad. MEAN mad. This is my blog after all, and as Britney would say (regarding the previous) it is “My Prerogative” to say such things. What are they gonna do, fire me? I think not.
On that note, I leave you with the following passage (gleaned from a clown manual in Mark’s ownership):
WILL I GET ANY WORK?
After giving a lot of thought to make up, wardrobe and character, the sensible person wonders if anything will come of it. Fortunately, a clown can get many types of jobs. There is more work for clowns than any other type of entertainer— not on the top money level, of course, but with plenty of work one need not worry too much about what is paid for each show.