DISTURBING IRONIES
8-16-05 THIS POST'S CONTENT IS RATED:
I'm very tired, but I have caffeine on the way.
It's fun to be walking down the street and see something that is ironic. It's possibly more fun to be walking down the street and notice something that could be ironic if something were to happen in the near future (your brain concocting the thing, and the possible irony, and internal giggle, or in this case cringe). It also helps if you are sleep deprived
I slept well Monday afternoon. I had an all-night all-weekend drawing session banging out the finished work for a new MAXIM UK illustration. England being 6 hours ahead - timezone wise, I have to get jobs done 6 hours earlier than normal so they are at work before the sun rises here and I can back and forth e-mails with them in the pre-dawn hours.
When I finished it and e-mailed it over I was still full of energy ( the been-awake-so-long-I'm-no-longer-tired energy) so I walked down to the park at the crack of dawn and shot some hoops.
Turns out my basketballs from last year ( which you can see here, being supported by the massive Artsucks bra ) had gone flat and weren't reinflateable so when I was food shopping last week I noticed that the Market was selling basketballs, so I had to buy one.
They had three types: Bright-Assed Orange, Glow In The Dark, and Red White and Blue. Orange is the traditional, but this Bright-Assed Orange reeked of cheap. This was the bobo of basketballs. I didn't need a glow in the dark ball, how fucking weird is that? Unless they make glow in the dark rims, this is a pointless creation. So I opted for the retro-ish HARLEM GLOBETROTTERS ball.
After I left the store I realized that the red, white, and blue ball from a distance looks a lot more like the official ball of the WNBA (Women's National Basketball Association) than the NBA , so I felt like a tool for a few seconds, but then realized, who the fuck cares, I'm old school. This is some Harlem Globetrotters shit, and ain't nobody gonna tell me different.
So, after I finished shooting hoops the tiredness had fully kicked in. I wandered home a zombie and dragged my tired ass into the shower. I got out and started swishing with this new Listerine Whitening Pre-Brush Rinse . If you haven't tried this stuff, it's great, it foams up and you can feel it working, really whitens your teeth without having to paint shit on each tooth one by one or wear a little plastic mouth guard overnight or any stupid crap, just a little 60 second swish. I don't recommend doing it when you are a zombie though. I was running around with my e-mail and getting dressed, while swishing, the Brits couldn't open my file so I had to change format etc . . . all the while I kept swishing. 15 minutes must have elapsed before my mouth was overflowing with foam to where I looked rabid (insert Cojo-Cujo joke here). After the job was finally approved I crashed, and crashed hard. The beautiful sleep of the dead you can enjoy when the deadline is met, and the client congratulates you on a job well done..
When I woke-up it was almost dinnertime. I made some pita wraps with some fresh veggies and cold cuts. While I ate I noticed that a superthin layer of skin all over the inside of my mouth was just washing off with the bites. Not a thick enough layer to bleed or anything, but more like a filmy few layers of dead skin cells. Very weird. That Listerine shit is no joke. Whatever the hell acidic whitening shit is in there, listen to the box, 60 seconds or it will eat away at your fucking mouth! After I had my mini-ebola moment I watched COOL HAND LUKE with TRACY (who had never seen it).
Since my sleep schedule was all fucked I ended up staying up all night again, working on other projects (the deadlines never end) and fine tuning my big sketch project I'm launching next month. I ended up watching some really crappy TV, including a re-run of an old Ripley's Believe it or Not where there is this 80-something year old man, who is the best free throw shooter in the world. He was there to make a world record for free throws. Apparently the record was 305 in an hour. I guess he did it, I don't know, I changed the channel, since this was a rerun the old dude is probably dead now for all I know. Anyway, I now had a mission.
When the sun rose I grabbed my bitch-ball and headed back to the park. I stretched and took a few warm-up shots then set the alarm on my cell to ring in an hour. I hit the foul line and sunk my first 9 in a row. It went pretty much downhill from there. I hit about 70 before I was drenched with sweat and called it quits about 50 minutes into it. I must have run for about 1000 missed shots, I don't know for sure, wasn't counting my misses, but damn, that old dude was good. R.I.P to him, if he is dead that is.
On the way home I noticed a car that had a big decal on its back window. It said "In Loving Memory" and had a photo of a little girl, and the dates 1999-2005. I thought to myself, "Damn, that photo is pretty big, probably gives them a blind spot in the back. Not enough of a blind spot to miss seeing an adult, but it could easily obscure a little girl walking across a driveway if they were to back-up. That would be ironic, wouldn't it."
Just another day in the life of an Art Juggernaut.
-Cojo