Some are strange, some are funny, some are disturbing, all art. I bring you some of this work, click the link to get at some more.
Mark Jenkins: Street Installations.
30 July 2008
Mark Jenkins art
Wordless Wednesday.
Some are strange, some are funny, some are disturbing, all art. I bring you some of this work, click the link to get at some more.
Mark Jenkins: Street Installations.
Some are strange, some are funny, some are disturbing, all art. I bring you some of this work, click the link to get at some more.
Mark Jenkins: Street Installations.
29 July 2008
Pop off, that's not my son or grandson
This is just not my week for normal encounters with live beings.
I was leaving the house with Kid Sis #2. As I left, I was carrying her baby so that she could start the engine and cool the car off a bit. There was a truck sitting out side with three men standing around the truck. I had invited one of the men into the house for his opinion on how I should be hanging the cabinet I want to install (he is a carpenter/contractor). So I made sure to make eye contact with him and say goodbye and thanks for his help.
In return, this same man had some words for me as I passed by him and his buddies on the way to the car.
"Is that your grandbaby?"
It was one of those moments where you have about a million thoughts in about 2 seconds:
I got into the car. Sat for a moment and started to laugh out loud. Kid Sis #2 had not heard this exchange so I explained it to her. After rehashing it, I started to think about how this man may have been thinking logically.
After all, there are many people who have babies in their really early teens. Then those kids have kids in their early teens. You could have four generations with the oldest member being only 45 years old. So even though I am not quite close to checking the 35-45 box yet, I could indeed technically be a grandmother.
Plus, this man does not know that had I tried to have a baby at that age, I would likely not be alive at this moment, or would have suffered some severe deformities at the hands of my parents. And if I had somehow managed to birth a child that young, if it grew and decided to even try to pretend to start practicing the act that makes babies, she too word have to face more than words.
The whole thing was ridiculous. Especially because I don't look old. At the track meet this weekend I cannot even count how many people thought I was about to compete in the 17-18 age group. I cannot tell you how many times I have been with students and had someone ask where the adult was only to have to reassure them that they shouldn't feel bad once they realized that the teacher/adult was me. The other day I had someone tell me that I should not even be near the alcohol section since I was clearly not old enough to be there. I told her that I could technically be her mother.
So I guess I'll just brush my shoulders off since, in his world, he was logical in his inquiring if my nephew was my grandbaby.
And I will thank goodness that I have yet to pop out a little shorty.
I was leaving the house with Kid Sis #2. As I left, I was carrying her baby so that she could start the engine and cool the car off a bit. There was a truck sitting out side with three men standing around the truck. I had invited one of the men into the house for his opinion on how I should be hanging the cabinet I want to install (he is a carpenter/contractor). So I made sure to make eye contact with him and say goodbye and thanks for his help.
In return, this same man had some words for me as I passed by him and his buddies on the way to the car.
"Is that your grandbaby?"
It was one of those moments where you have about a million thoughts in about 2 seconds:
- Is he talking to me?
- What the hell?!
- You want me to pop off, Son?!
- Is he drunk?
- Do I look that old?!
- Has he been doing crack or something?
- Do I look like I could be Kid Sis #2's mother?
- Is he for real?!
- Should I go off on him, or just answer the question and move on?
- What the hell?!
- Is this him trying to make a move on me? Perhaps he thinks if I feel more mature I will be more apt to try and talk to his 60+ year old ass?
I got into the car. Sat for a moment and started to laugh out loud. Kid Sis #2 had not heard this exchange so I explained it to her. After rehashing it, I started to think about how this man may have been thinking logically.
After all, there are many people who have babies in their really early teens. Then those kids have kids in their early teens. You could have four generations with the oldest member being only 45 years old. So even though I am not quite close to checking the 35-45 box yet, I could indeed technically be a grandmother.
Plus, this man does not know that had I tried to have a baby at that age, I would likely not be alive at this moment, or would have suffered some severe deformities at the hands of my parents. And if I had somehow managed to birth a child that young, if it grew and decided to even try to pretend to start practicing the act that makes babies, she too word have to face more than words.
The whole thing was ridiculous. Especially because I don't look old. At the track meet this weekend I cannot even count how many people thought I was about to compete in the 17-18 age group. I cannot tell you how many times I have been with students and had someone ask where the adult was only to have to reassure them that they shouldn't feel bad once they realized that the teacher/adult was me. The other day I had someone tell me that I should not even be near the alcohol section since I was clearly not old enough to be there. I told her that I could technically be her mother.
So I guess I'll just brush my shoulders off since, in his world, he was logical in his inquiring if my nephew was my grandbaby.
And I will thank goodness that I have yet to pop out a little shorty.
28 July 2008
It finally happened, and, yes, it was as bad as I expected
It has been a long time coming. I have consistently been able to avoid the inevitable, but my time finally came. I thought I had done well by escaping the birds
in Omaha (more on the trip to possibly come later). There were birds constantly over head. I found out that there were four birds nests in the bathrooms (one in each of the entrances on the West side of the track). Each had little baby birds peeking their heads out. The picture is not as clear as I would have liked it, but you can see a bit of what I saw in the corners of the entrances to the restroom that I successfully avoided for five days while attending the track meet. And I don't even think I am severely dehydrated.
The birds flew overhead continuously. Constantly looking for scavenged food they could take to their rugrats. I even witnessed one of them drop a load on an umbrella that sat two rows in front of me in the bleachers. Fortunately it missed the person and just left its mark on the umbrella. I was really happy at that moment not only for the person being saved from the bird crap, but also because I figured the bird would not let it go in the same area again.
Today I got to go shopping for some things I need for that house. I was enjoying carrying Kid Sis #2's son in the little bundle as I walked out of Target. Even eating a Snickers Bar as I walked through the parking lot back to the car. As I reached to open the wrapper of the bar a bit more to take the next bite, I felt something hit my right shirt sleeve. I thought maybe the wind had blown a piece of the Snickers bar off the wrapper and it hit me.
No.
It was shit.
From a bird.
What the hell?!
I looked over and it was just sitting there -- two pieces of bird dung. Absolutely disgusting. I looked up to find the bird wishing I had a BB gun or a sling shot or something to shoot down the swarm, but only found one lone bird flying way up high and already on its way somewhere West. It had been a beautiful day -- blue skies, no clouds, not too hot, nice.
In all my years of careful avoidance of large flocks or persistent fly overs from those mo-fos... I slip one time
and this is what happens.
Of course Kid Sis #2 finds this absolutely hilarious since I just wrote about my hate for them and had the previous post on my hate for the changing seasons and how they bring forth more opportunities for a defecation attack. I let her laugh for a bit. But trust that for a slight moment I wanted to wipe the white goo on her chuckling face as she laughed at me.
Fortunately for her I was too disgusted to really move too quickly. She is also fortunate the bird didn't drop it three inches to the left and hit my cute little nephew with its waste.
Fortunately for the bird I can't fly cause we would have been banging. I don't care if it has a sharp beak to peck me with. I have nails and opposable thumbs.
in Omaha (more on the trip to possibly come later). There were birds constantly over head. I found out that there were four birds nests in the bathrooms (one in each of the entrances on the West side of the track). Each had little baby birds peeking their heads out. The picture is not as clear as I would have liked it, but you can see a bit of what I saw in the corners of the entrances to the restroom that I successfully avoided for five days while attending the track meet. And I don't even think I am severely dehydrated.The birds flew overhead continuously. Constantly looking for scavenged food they could take to their rugrats. I even witnessed one of them drop a load on an umbrella that sat two rows in front of me in the bleachers. Fortunately it missed the person and just left its mark on the umbrella. I was really happy at that moment not only for the person being saved from the bird crap, but also because I figured the bird would not let it go in the same area again.
Today I got to go shopping for some things I need for that house. I was enjoying carrying Kid Sis #2's son in the little bundle as I walked out of Target. Even eating a Snickers Bar as I walked through the parking lot back to the car. As I reached to open the wrapper of the bar a bit more to take the next bite, I felt something hit my right shirt sleeve. I thought maybe the wind had blown a piece of the Snickers bar off the wrapper and it hit me.
No.
It was shit.
From a bird.
What the hell?!
I looked over and it was just sitting there -- two pieces of bird dung. Absolutely disgusting. I looked up to find the bird wishing I had a BB gun or a sling shot or something to shoot down the swarm, but only found one lone bird flying way up high and already on its way somewhere West. It had been a beautiful day -- blue skies, no clouds, not too hot, nice.
In all my years of careful avoidance of large flocks or persistent fly overs from those mo-fos... I slip one time
and this is what happens.Of course Kid Sis #2 finds this absolutely hilarious since I just wrote about my hate for them and had the previous post on my hate for the changing seasons and how they bring forth more opportunities for a defecation attack. I let her laugh for a bit. But trust that for a slight moment I wanted to wipe the white goo on her chuckling face as she laughed at me.
Fortunately for her I was too disgusted to really move too quickly. She is also fortunate the bird didn't drop it three inches to the left and hit my cute little nephew with its waste.
Fortunately for the bird I can't fly cause we would have been banging. I don't care if it has a sharp beak to peck me with. I have nails and opposable thumbs.
Fox News, Nas, Colbert
Most people realize how crappy Fox News is as a source of unbiased, unracist, untainted news. Nas wrote a song about them -- "Sly Fox". He went on The Colbert Report to talk about the station, Bill O'Reilly, and the title of his newest album.
Hilarious, and informative.
Nas on Stephen Colbert:
Hilarious, and informative.
Nas on Stephen Colbert:
24 July 2008
They're BAAAAaaaack
As I prepare for day two of the USATF National Championships (which went really well for us day one with us garnering a national championship in the 4x8 young women's division), I leave you with these thoughts:
1. The ride to Omaha was quite pretty, though the two hours from KC to here were the longest, straightest most full of corn I have experienced. Seriously, I only saw one other crop growing in all the fields that we past. I guess they are really trying to push the ethanol.
2. The track facility here at Burke High School is amazing. Nebraska really knows how to support athletics. I only have one complaint. Birds. For those of you who don't know about my disdain for the flying fowl, please read this post: fear of birds.
The ones here are really getting to me. When I am sitting on the West side of the track by the finish line, which is the preferred side, they are constantly flying overhead. They don't seem to care that we are all sitting there. They don't even seem to have any regard for our need to release all the fluids we intake in order to stay hydrated.
THEY FLY INTO THE BATHROOMS!!!
So I am forced to either not drink fluids, or to try and hold it all until we leave the meet for the hotel or for somewhere to eat or to get a diaper like that old NASA heifer. Though I am able to pry my eyes off the sky for our athletes, when we don't have an athlete on the track, I am constantly looking out for falling poop instead of watching all the races.
3. Deuces. Off to watch the prelims of the 200m dash.
Oh, and thanks to Christine for this link to the possible identity of the artist from yesterday's post of Bansky's art from Time Magazine: Bansky: an Artist Unmasked.
1. The ride to Omaha was quite pretty, though the two hours from KC to here were the longest, straightest most full of corn I have experienced. Seriously, I only saw one other crop growing in all the fields that we past. I guess they are really trying to push the ethanol.
2. The track facility here at Burke High School is amazing. Nebraska really knows how to support athletics. I only have one complaint. Birds. For those of you who don't know about my disdain for the flying fowl, please read this post: fear of birds.
The ones here are really getting to me. When I am sitting on the West side of the track by the finish line, which is the preferred side, they are constantly flying overhead. They don't seem to care that we are all sitting there. They don't even seem to have any regard for our need to release all the fluids we intake in order to stay hydrated.
THEY FLY INTO THE BATHROOMS!!!
So I am forced to either not drink fluids, or to try and hold it all until we leave the meet for the hotel or for somewhere to eat or to get a diaper like that old NASA heifer. Though I am able to pry my eyes off the sky for our athletes, when we don't have an athlete on the track, I am constantly looking out for falling poop instead of watching all the races.
3. Deuces. Off to watch the prelims of the 200m dash.
Oh, and thanks to Christine for this link to the possible identity of the artist from yesterday's post of Bansky's art from Time Magazine: Bansky: an Artist Unmasked.
23 July 2008
Art of Dave Nitsche
Before I jump into the regular post, let me tell you a little bit about the strangest dream experience I have ever had. Lots of craziness which I won't go into leading up to me being at my new job where my first principal was also there. It really sucked and I kept trying to find all the cool people I worked along side from the last job. Finally found one person who I started crying to. Then I actually, really woke up with a ton of tears streaming down my face. Strange, weird, and scary way to wake up. Plus I hate the way my nose gets stuffy when I cry and it sucked to wake up to that feeling of not being able to breathe out of my nose.
On to Wordless Wednesday.
Beautiful, (at times) shocking, crisp.
Art.
By Dave Nitsche click image for a larger view.
On to Wordless Wednesday.
Beautiful, (at times) shocking, crisp.
Art.
By Dave Nitsche click image for a larger view.
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