This Means You

Psssttt.....
Celebration is this Saturday. Post-Celebration Celebration is at my house. DJ Beck and the ubiquitous DJ Drunkguy to blow up the backyard. Ample parking, bring your poisons. Pass it along.

Cock.

Once upon a time, a dear friend of mine brought over Season 1 of The Office. Watched it in once sitting, I believe. The sun joined in about episode 5. Lapped up season 2 quickly with relish. Haven't seen the special, but would very much like to.
I just walked into my living room, watched two and a half minutes of our "Office." After regaining consciousness, wiping the vomit off my face, and crawling to my bed in a cold sweat, I will never speak to Steve Carrell again, and possibly have lost the last shreds of the will to live I was clinging to so desperately.
Ass bad with a bullet.

Gervais, I've got his back.

The Real Mies van der Hoes

Ask yourself this...
Do you like good design? Naked chicks? If you answered yes to either of the above questions, my friend, look no further.

Oooh, Pretty

Boots in Blue
Originally uploaded by glasshole.

I feel better. But I still hate everyone.

Put It in A Box and Go Back to Battle

I should never have opened the fucking mailbox.
Nothing good ever comes of my home mailbox. I have packages, goodies and lovelies, delivered to school. Home is for gas bills, "The Smithville Shopper" and the assorted subscriptions foisted upon me by the various organizations which I deem worthy of my miniscule financial support. Salon gave me the unspeakable joy of US News and World Report, with its Jesus cover stories and pre-election year, wartime illiberalism (remember when they took those photos of burned, hanging contractor bodies in Fallujah and ran with it? Good times). The editorials made me want to polish up my gun for a good conservative shooting spree, and then accidentally shoot myself in the face with it. I gleefully greeted the rough-covered "FINAL ISSUE" (act now!), and may have even burned my last copy, and hung it from a bridge.
Now, thanks to WPLN, it's Newsweek, which is better, if only because I tend to stick my head in the sand through the editorial section, stopping briefly for the quotes and fluff pieces. Today I stumbled upon it on my way to school, Jesus on the cover wouldn't you know, in my mailbox. Brought it along for interesting reading in the carpool hour.
Skipped the Jesus article, endured the woeful but falsely hopeful story of village sanctioned gang-rape in Pakistan ("The U.S. civil-rights campaign had Rosa Parks, who helped spark and entire movement....We have Mukhtar Mai."), screeching halt at the next page (for those of you playing at home, I'm left-handed, and for some reason am compelled to read magazines from back to front).
January 18, the five youngest Hassan children and their cousin have the pleasure of witnessing their parent's deaths at the hands of the United States Army, in the front seat of their moving car on the way home from a relative's house. We've all heard the story, seen the pictures, felt the rage, albeit the exhausted type. I come to you today to quote one Major Dylan Moxness, in defense of the situation, "Put yourself there....You're an 18 year old kid from Tennessee. You don't even understand why these people don't speak english anyway, you're shouting 'Stop!' and the car's still coming at you-you've got to fire."
I gasped for air for a few, wheezed incredulously, screeched some indiscernabilities, and promptly forgot about it. For the five-minute walk to class.
Amazingly enough, we had debates, on the current situation in Iraq. When I say debates, I use the term shockingly loosely. It turned out to be an oral quiz on current and historical events surrounding the middle east.
HOLY SHIT!
Apparently, in the Tennessee Board of Regents higher educational system, "I have no idea" not only adequately describes Shiite muslims, the plight of Jews in history, Iran, Afghanistan, WMD's, and, amazingly enough, IRAQ (wait, what were we discussing?), but we doubt the long-term viability (my term, not hers)of a western-style democracy in Iraq because "they aren't as educated as us."
Oh, and the United States Secretary of Defense is.....Colin Powell? Condoleeza Rice? John Ashcroft? Uh....I have no idea.
Gulf War numero uno? Because Saddam invaded (singlehandedly, mind you, man is that guy evil...) SAUDI ARABIA.
I often ask myself "just why is the U.S. so interested in Israel?" Yet the true answer has always escaped me. Thank you, overly-tan girl, for illuminating the subtleties inherent to this extremely intricate subject....
"Wasn't it because we, like, made it, or something??"

And I'm.....speechless. Because I didn't bring a tape recorder and transcribe the entire fiasco for you here.

Thank you, 18-year old soldier from Tennessee, you are faithfully representing your civilian counterparts abroad. I salute you, sir.

Livin' by the Grace of God, At the Pace of the Devil

Poor Man's Saturday Night
Originally uploaded by glasshole.

I was going to post about the madness that was last night, but the pictures are fairly self-explanatory.

Saturday Continued

Rachael and Xian
Originally uploaded by glasshole.

Saturday, Take 3

There's Sometime a Sharpie
Originally uploaded by glasshole.

Three days later, she's still rocking this one.

Caught Red-Handed

Caught Red-Handed
Originally uploaded by glasshole.

This is my friend, Britt, after a hard day of paintin' fire-hydrants. We were once mortal enemies, but now she cracks my ass up. She's short, but she'll bite off your kneecaps if you cross her. She's from Philly and smokes Newports. Most importantly, she don't give no fuck, and that's what I admire the most.

Room o' Looms

Room o' Looms
Originally uploaded by glasshole.

My friends are all geniuses. All you get from me today is yarn.

Look What I Found in Obi-Wan's Jedi Sketchbook

Just when you thought it was safe, I hit the words again.

I arrived to 3-Dimensional design today in just enough time to put my best yet straight-from-the-ass piece up (literally conceptualized and executed in about two hours, pictures to follow), post my drawing for the next project, and receive my mid-term grade (And I quote- "A, A, A, A with a big circle around it, Bravo!"). I'd forgotten how great intro classes can be. It was a smaller class than usual, and we kept launching into philosophical discussions about technology and it's impact on the art world, world in general. I found out I'm surrounded by a bunch of simple-minded technophobes who still harbor the image of the pale-faced, socially-inept computer geekazoid, whose sole human interaction is sheltered in the womb-like confines of the message board and chatroom. I took that very personally, and I hated to burst their bubble, but I did it anyway. I wish them all the luck with that mindset.
I actually made it to the Craft Center library today. It's about the size of a dorm room, still has a paper card catalog, and is open for two hours in the afternoon. I stumbled out with five books, mostly glass (you're shocked, right?).
If you haven't watched the extended version of Ray yet, I suggest you set aside about 3.5 hours and get on that.

Listening to: Ween- The Mollusk

Read Form

Read Form
Originally uploaded by glasshole.

The piece from yesterday, fresh out the oven.

Hott

Hott
Originally uploaded by glasshole.

Chris seems to like my work.

Glory Hole

Glory Hole
Originally uploaded by glasshole.

We're hosting Lynn Read as a visiting artist this week. I caught this shot as the piece was going in for a reheat.

Pretty Bits

Pretty Bits
Originally uploaded by glasshole.

Sandwiched, colored glass, pulled into ribbons, encased in clear, and pulled into square murrini.

Posting for the Hell of It

Zoolander is funny. When you're drunk. And I was.

The first portion of spring break was a flurry of work-related activity, but now I'm chillin' out, maxin', relaxin', and coolin' in K-town. I've been fighting off a hangover induced by equal parts burger nite and Sassy Ann's, so I can fully say I had at least one traditional Spring Break day. No beach or flashing my tits, though. Sorry to disappoint.

I just checked the tracking number, and my new baby camera is sitting all alone in the dark, scary receiving office at Crafttown. I'm fighting the urge to hop in my car, and make the two-hour journey to rescue it. I've been having one last blast with the old 35 mm before sending it off to retirement. It sucks, and it won't be missed. I hope you weren't getting used to these texted posts, because I get the feeling you're going to be looking at a lot of close-up artsy shots of sponges soon.

Girls who wear glasses, and are so into the book they're reading that they haven't caught me staring at them yet, are hot. At least the one sitting a few tables away from me is. I have no further comment on that subject.

I think they need to begin teaching cellphone etiquette in the schools. The guy next to me has decided that now, in the middle of a crowded coffee house, is the perfect time to try out every single ringtone on his phone. Good job, guy.

So, that's the weather report from my humble corner. Tomorrow, what I'm wearing and eating.

Listening to: Cappucino Rush Hour

There Are Things in My Life I Can't Control

If I'd chosen a more expensive method of shipping, you'd be looking at some great pictures right now. We got drunk last night, set a mattress on fire, and then took turns jumping over it. Because we're rednecks, and we ain't got no cable. Here's a tip, because I love you: Don't ever, ever, ever smoke in bed. That shit isn't pretty. I take that back, it was really pretty, but you wouldn't be if you woke up in the middle of it.

I took a hint from iTunes (for once) and got the new Iron & Wine Woman King EP. It's pretty hott. Consider this a recommendation.

The Crime of Padre Amaro, also hott. Thank you, god, for Gael Garcia Bernal. Thank you. All of my Netflix (save for The Triplets of Bellville, which rocked my face off to use the current vernacular) have been indictments of the evils of the church (Saved, The Magdalene Sisters, The Crime of Padre Amaro, and assorted others) Completely unintentional, I assure you, but oh so fun. If anyone else knows of any good anti-organized religion films, please let me know, I'd like to keep this ball rolling.

Finally, here's a shout-out to my new friend Jef, whom I've never even been formally introduced to (hi, I'm Cara), is currently living three hours south of Prague, and wrote a badass song which I one day hope to see performed live. I am intensely flattered, and I'm saving you a spot in my harem. And thanks to Jesse, for being such a good liar as to convince a complete stranger I'm that cool.

And for once, I'm actually posting from my home, where I've been all day (Spring Break, woooo!). As such:

Listening to: Jürgen Paape-So Wit Wie Noch Nie (as mixed by Erlend Øye)

Say what you want, at least I'm not Chuck

Holy Jesus, I've gotten really fucking terrible at posting, and if that weren't enough, I didn't even realize I had comments on that last post until just now. Ludicrous.

Hmmm.....since we last left our hero....
My alternative housing arrangement fell through, which is fine, I guess. Another friend suggested we get a place together, but we quickly shot that down when we realized we actually like each other, and want to keep it that way. I ordered an iPod Shuffle, but they were really slow in sending it, and in the meantime I got birthday money and decided I needed one of these more. Yeah, baby, yeah. I've almost completely survived Mid-term critiques, save for my independent study on Sunday night, and I should be working on the pieces for that at this very moment.

Adam did a great job of summing up Old Crow/Del McCoury, so I don't have to. To the assholes who were sitting next to me, I'll see you in hell, because if there is a hell, and Sartre had anything to say about it, I'll be hanging out with you pour l'éternité. The keg is destined to become living room furniture, methinks.

My arms (wrapped around Ross), and my friends Sarah, and Clay (who were standing next to us) are in the video for "Tell it to Me" (by Old Crow Medicine Show). No, really.

Woooo! Spring Break! More like Spring catch-up week. Sorry Jesse, looks like I utterly failed to get to Brno ( I typed Bron about twelve times before I got that out). I guess that means I won't be hanging out with you and my Brother-in-Blogger Templates/Future Husband. Thanks for the birthday wishes Jef, I'll be happy to share any wizardry you might need, provided I can get the lyrics to my song, and/or a video of you performing said song while Jesse does interpretative dance in his skivvies.

As much as I like hanging out in the security office with good ol' Dave Brown, I should go back to the studio. I've got my trusty exacto, a roll of Buttercut, my iBook, and The Triplets of Bellville. Hello, Friday night.

Knoxville, I'll see you Wednesday.