Archive for the ‘Stuff’ Category

The Zucchini Festival.

Thursday, August 19th, 2010

I went to Massachusetts to The Zucchini Festival. A festival! Devoted to zucchinis! Hurray!

On route to the gaiety I saw a man shining up his ancient vehicle. Check out the wooden spokes.

And then lovely, hand-made zucchini signs informed you of all the important things like times and locations.

There were also signs peppered all over telling you important facts.

I got up very early because I knew the day began with the Pet Parade. People take their pets and decorate them to look like zucchinis and then parade them down a tiny, short street and prizes are given at the end. I couldn’t miss that. I got to meet some great beasties. First I met a dachshund who was totally rockin’ the look. It wasn’t hard for him, being all elongated-squash-shaped and all.

Then there was a goat, painted green, in a cage filled with leaves.

Large woman with tiny chihuahua? Check.

Herding dog with creepy blue eyes dressed as a zucchini flower? Check.

The dog’s name is Ellie, and she was lovely and super-psyched to be wearing a costume. You could almost hear her. “Look at me, I’m a flower! See me? Flower! Oh boy! Flower flower flower!” etc.

Cooper, I learned, loves to carry things in his mouth. So he carried his little identification sign around with him all day.

There was also a three-legged poodle…

…a baby goat…

…a half-corgie, half-irish setter wearing a old futon mattress…

…and two girls who are members of 4-H and brought some delightful companions with them, two of which were Pig-ccini and a lion-head rabbit. An award-winning lion-head rabbit, I’ll have you know.

There was also Stephanie the cat. Poor Stephanie. Clearly this was the backstory: a three-year-old boy told his parents that he wanted to be in the pet parade, in a wagon, with his beloved cat by his side. The parents, being high on crack or something, decided this would be a good idea. So Stephanie the cat was placed in a wagon adorned with antlers and a dried crocodile skull (you see them on the front there), had a leash put on her, and sat there while this young feller aggressively pet her. She so clearly did not want to be there, AT ALL. You know that night she barfed in each and every one of her owner’s shoes. And rightfully so, I would add. I would do the same thing had I been in her place. Hork away, Stephanie, hork away.

Leading the pet parade was the Master of Ceremonies, with his festive hat and his ornately-decorated golf cart and his bullhorn.

Once the parade was over, the fun was not done. Oh no. There were all these vendors selling things ( I bought Cricket a t-shirt and I bought myself zucchini relish and zucchini bread). Here’s a list of some of the other fun things they were doing.

The nice 4-H girls live with their parents on a farm, and aside from bringing the green goat in the cage, the pig and the rabbit, they set up a petting zoo with heirloom chickens, two geese, a flock of the sweetest sheep from Turkey, two ponies and my cow. I clearly called it “my” cow because I love this cow. Really. My favorite picture of the day is a girl with a skull painted on her face feeding my beloved cow. I want to live with this cow.

By the way, the MC was not the only person wearing a zucchini-themed hat. Ooooh no.

People were bringing their gigantic monster-zucchinis to be weighed and entered into a competition, and this guy, who reminded me of Alton Brown, was in charge of the weighing area.

I walked, I ate, I talked to people, I talked to their dogs, the whole thing was wonderful. I don’t know what my schedule holds for next year, but if I’m free, I’m going again. It’s a hoot.

I am accomplishing things, and it feels goooood.

Saturday, August 7th, 2010

Today, I cleaned up the apartment which had become a wee bit slovenly. I then finished up some art projects and I figured I would share one with you. This is a purse I painted for a client about a year ago, and it was supposed to be a surprise gift, so I didn’t post any pictures of it, in case the client read my blog. But a year has gone by, so I think I’m safe.

This was the design on the very first bag I painted six years ago, and the original looked like this:

As you can see, in the new purse, I did some slightly different variations on the stars. It’s subtle, but I think it’s an improvement. My co-worker always says, “Don’t make changes just to make it different. Make changes to make it better.”

Rockin’ my grump.

Monday, July 26th, 2010

I’m sorry, were you just on your way to bed? Hey, guess what? No bed for you. We’re going to sit here while I tell you about my craptacular evening, and you’re going to listen to the whole thing.

I had a wonderful weekend. I went up to Massachusetts and saw a play and went to a craft show and checked out some galleries and ate some lovely food, it was just delightful. Then my father drove me to Wassaic, which is about a third of the way back home, to catch the train back to White Plains. I caught the train, all was well, but two towns later, the train stopped. And now we weren’t going anywhere. I figured there’s a signal problem or something and continued listening to my iPod. The conductor got on and informed us there was a fire on the tracks in Patterson and as soon as he got more information, he would inform us. Time passed, the earth rotated a bit more, and then the nice conductor man informed us that no trains were moving above Southeast and we should look for alternative modes of transportation to get where we were going. Armed with that little nugget of knowledge, I called Cricket and asked him what he would do in this circumstance. He said to get a cab to take me to Southeast where I could continue on my merry way. So I called a local cab company and got a guy to come. The cab-guy didn’t have any cabs available that evening, but he realized we were in a bind, so he came to pick us up in his own car. Oh, and then there was drama. I offered to take a bunch of people with me and there was pushing and shoving and yelling. Two hippie artists who were on the train with me came with, as well as three older women. In order to avoid a fight, I offered to sit in the trunk area of this hatchback cab, where there was something like nail polish remover leaking all over the floor and it soaked my pants. At one point the male irritating artist hippie said, “We can all ride together, but we all have to be on the same page, man. We can’t be quibbling over little pieces of leather, man.” I wanted to punch him in his little hippie mouth. Oh, and his girlfriend took the front seat without offering it to any of the older women riding with us, like it was owed to her, because, you know, they make documentaries, man, not like us status-quo squares. Anyway, we started on our fifty-minute journey to Brewster, and the driver, who is a nice 55-year-old man, says, “I’m sorry for your tough trip. I’m going to try to make you all laugh,” and we’re all thinking NOOOOOOOO please don’t. Let’s all sit in silence and think about life and its vicisitudes. But we said nothing, so he told us he used to be a pilot for TWA and proceeded to dictate every moment of the remaining trip as if it was a flight (“Hello everyone, welcome to flight 703 to Phoenix, we’re just starting our assent…”), taking breaks periodically to say driving instructions to himself (“Go, go, make the left…. NOW!”).

Oh no, there’s more. He also spoke like Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd to us (we were all apparently wascally wabbits, who knew), and after we stopped at a local Mobil station, he told us he liked to make sounds like a cymbals and drums with his mouth. He then put on ABBA’s Greatest Hits and both beatboxed and made rocket-taking-off-noises (“Fwoochsh!”) to three, count ‘em, three songs, until the crappy hippies yelled that they hated ABBA and he needed to turn it off, which I think hurt his feelings a little bit. The he informed us that he could smell anything, like a beagle, and howled like a beagle (“Barrooooo!”). Finally, we arrived at the Brewster station and got comfortable to wait for the next train. Not five minutes after we arrived, a train rolled into the station. OUR train. The train we were JUST ON. I guess they had cleared up the fire situation shortly after the cab left. The whole cab trip was for nothing. We all just dejectedly boarded the train again and sat back down. So my one-and-a-half-hour trip took three-and-a-half-hours and involved a mentally ill cab driver, two arrogant young hipster snotbags, and three tightly wound older women who I had to calm repeatedly. I now reek of acetone and my pants are ruined. Good times, good times.

Addendum: Snorth has informed me that I was not riding with hippies, I was riding with hipsters. It’s a subtle but important difference. I stand corrected. So, for your information, hippies = dirty, friendly pot-smoking free-lovers. Hipsters = the ass-weasels that rode in the car with me.

Some links that need to be part of your life now.

Wednesday, July 21st, 2010

http://catalogliving.tumblr.com/

Catalog interiors are decorated weirdly more often than not. What if real people lived there, and they decorated like that? “Catalog Living” answers that question for you.

http://hackedirl.com/

This stands for “Hacked In Real Life”. There are signs. People do bad things to the signs. You and I laugh. Here are some of my favorites:

“We don’t pump our gas, we pump our fists!”*

Monday, July 19th, 2010

*lyrics from a Jersey-type dance song I heard recently. How fabulous are those lyrics, really?

I went to a Jersey Shore-themed party this weekend, and for those of you living under a rock, or perhaps behind it, there is a show on MTV about American-Italians who go to the Jersey Shore every summer. Let’s be polite: they have a distinct “look”.

There’s a great deal of hair care product and bronzer and tattoos and drinking and steroids and lasagna and house music. This show became insanely popular. So there were spinoffs, like Jerseylicious:

And Jersey Couture:

And suddenly these orange Oompa-Loompa people took over the world. So, many people have had Jersey Shore-themed parties this summer, and I went to one of them. And Lordy, I went all out. I got a Bump-It for my hair, and four-inch-high gold stilleto heels (I wore them for a total of 300 feet, from the car to the front door, then those shoes were OFF). I got bronzer to make my face all roasty-toasty-brown, and… well, see for yourself.

Cricket took that while we were stuck in traffic on the Cross Island Expressway with no air conditioning. And people in the other cars were laughing at me. I took a slightly better picture about fifteen minutes later, but you can’t appreciate the poofy hair.

I found it rather humorous how much, in the upper picture, I resemble Ursula from The Little Mermaid. Apparently it’s my destiny.

Some photos.

Monday, July 12th, 2010

Since I’m crazy busy with a fairly interesting project I’m working on (pictures a-comin’!), here are some photos that I’ve been meaning to share, but haven’t got around to posting. First, I did a search for “antlers” on the internet this morning and I found this sweet little image. Awwww.

My friend Jon and I have marveled at how good some tattoos are, and how truly bad some tattoos are. As Jon says, “Every tattoo artist has to start somewhere.” I thought of that sentiment when I witnessed this craptacular backpiece at Coney Island when I went for the Mermaid Parade. I followed the dude for quite some time to snap this winner.

Finally, this Fourth of July, I went with Cricket to watch the fireworks. There were bloodsucking bugs, as there tends to be outside (which is one of the reasons I tend not to go outside). Cricket handed me a little nylon bag and told me to open it. Inside was a jacket with mesh armpits and a hood with mesh going over the face, like a low-rent beekeeper’s suit. You could unzip the face part if you wanted to talk to someone without you looking like you were wearing your camping burqa. Cricket took a picture of me in it. We called it “The Faithfulmaker” because no one, absolutely no one, would think you were sexy in this thing. Cricket said it was like “a chastity belt, but lighter!” See for yourself.

The hotness, it is palpable.

Spoonflower ‘n’ things.

Thursday, July 8th, 2010

Before we get started with today’s blog entry, let’s all look at a SmartCar completely covered in crocheted blankets. They took something I love and made it better!

Now that that’s taken care of, I have some charts to share.

And now, on to Spoonflower. Spoonflower is a genius idea of letting people print their own fabric. Anything they want, on fabric. A drawing they made. A piece of clipart they were diggin’. A picture of their pet fish. Really, whatever they want. Here’s a picture of their homepage.

And, bonus, sometimes if the design is a cool enough idea, they sell that fabric to the public. I picked some of my favorites.

So if you’re making a quilt or an apron or a pillow or a doll or any number of cool things and you can’t find a fabric that suits your needs, Spoonflower can help.

www.spoonflower.com

Mermaid Parade.

Tuesday, June 22nd, 2010

I have been threatening to go to the Mermaid Parade at Coney Island for years now, and I finally was free the weekend it occurred, so I grabbed Cricket and we headed down. There’s the New York Aquarium there too, so we figured we’d hit up both that day. In case you don’t know what the deal is with the Mermaid Parade, here’s a description from the official Coney Island website.

The Mermaid Parade celebrates the sand, the sea, the salt air and the beginning of summer, as well as the history and mythology of Coney Island, Coney Island pride, and artistic self-expression. The Parade is characterized by participants dressed in hand-made costumes as Mermaids, Neptunes, various sea creatures, the occasional wandering lighthouse, Coney Island post card or amusement ride, as well as antique cars, marching bands, drill teams, and the odd yacht pulled on flatbed.

Each year, a different celebrity King Neptune and Queen Mermaid rule over the proceedings, riding in the Parade and assisting in the opening of the Ocean for the summer swimming season by marching down the Beach from the Boardwalk, cutting through Ribbons representing the seasons, and tossing fruit into the Atlantic to appease the Sea Gods. In the past, David Byrne, Queen Latifah, Ron Kuby, Curtis Sliwa, Moby, David Johansen and Harvey Keitel have graced our shores, presiding over the assembled masses.

Yeah, it’s similar to the Greenwich Village Halloween Parade. More on that later. But first, the aquarium!

I loved the weathervane on top of the cafe. It’s hard to see, but in the middle is a fish, and then for each direction there is a different nifty creature – an octopus, a seahorse, a dolphin and a penguin. I thought is was terrific and I want one in my living room.

Even though I have a regular average little Canon Elph camera, I got some really nice pictures of jellies in all their stinging diaphanous glory.

One of my favorite things about fish are the names they are given. My favorite of all time is the Picasso Triggerfish because, well, it looks like a Picasso painting and it has a little fin-thing on its back that it pops up and down. Genius. This adorable little feller also has a fun descriptive name.

There was a tank with seahorses and a cowfish. A cowfish is called a cowfish because it has horns. And I call it super-cute because it is super-cute, with its kissyface and its flat bottom. It was also extremely difficult to take a picture of the cowfish because it was in a dark tank and it moved around a lot. But I made a concerted effort.

Here’s a decent picture of two seahorses with the cowfish in the background. As you can see, one seahorse is blackish-brownish and one is much lighter. I learned that they can change color at will, like octopii.

I was very concerned at one point because I passed a tank that said “False Clownfish” and the fishies looked exactly like Marlin and Nemo from Finding Nemo. Then I passed another tank that said “Something Something Clownfish” and these guys were swimming in there.

And I thought, “Are these the real clownfish? Was Pixar not accurate? Is my whole life a lie?” I’m not joking. I had a little knot in my stomach and everything. It was a little touch-and-go there for a while. Today at work I looked it up and breathed a large sigh of relief because apparently there’s a whole bunch of different clownfish and some of them indeed look exactly Marlin and Nemo, so Pixar didn’t lie to me and all is right with the world.

Here is a nice picture I took on the boardwalk of Coney Island. If you close your eyes, you can smell the coconut-scented suntan lotion and the Nathan’s hot dogs.

Now, the Mermaid Parade. It’s not what you would call a real organized thing. It’s kind of like a bunch of art school students got together, picked a theme (the ocean) and made an impromptu parade. Lots of nudity and glitter and whatnot. Here are some of the highlights.

As always, there were a few people who were completely insane and possibly dress like every day but because there was a parade occurring they looked like they fit in. I think this man was one of these people. He was so weird I didn’t even notice the parrot on his head until I got home that night and looked at the pictures on my computer.

There were quite a few children marching, being pushed in strollers, etc. This was a favorite of mine: a child wearing an angry duck mask squirting the crowd with a water gun.

Another group costume I liked was the flea circus. I don’t know how well you can see it in the picture, but all the ladies have antennae on their heads and puffs of tulle on their butt, mimicking flea hinders.

There was rather well-painted fish float/sculpture/thing.

Also in attendance was Wallpaper Squid Man, Screaming Shark Girl and Oyster Boy with Strategically Placed Pearl.

But the reason everyone comes to see this parade is for the boobies. In New York a lady can’t show her nipple-y bits, but she can wear pasties or body paint. So many a lass was rockin’ the starfish coverup or something like it.

It was a fun experience, but I don’t think I’ll go again. It was a long trek getting out there and even longer getting back, so I think I’m good for now.

A touch of spam and some not-so-great ads aimed at wimmins.

Sunday, June 13th, 2010

First, the spam. I received this in my comments between the normal effluvia of stuff I get.

Wait, what? What the hell does this have to do with anything else happening in our solar system at all? I sincerely hope this spammer was stoned out of his gourd, having one of those, “Dude, look at your hand, I mean, really look at it” moments. That being said, it’s a cool idea and I would like to see that in a movie someday.

On my way to work I am bombarded with a gazillion ads, so when one stands out, it’s either very good, very bad or very weird. This one is the latter. I was startled with I first saw this one. I mean, whoa. EYEBROWS.

You wanna maybe whittle those monsters down a little there, sweetie? I am extremely lax with my ladylike responsibilities (I don’t dye or style my hair, I don’t wear makeup or jewelry, etc.) but I still tend to the black forest above m’eyeballs. When I look at you, I am reminded of my childhood on the playground, playing with wooly bear caterpillars.

Then, in Grand Central Terminal, there are a bunch of ads for the We network. They be hawkin’ their bitchy bride program with this poster.

Now, there’s a section with three large vertical ad spaces set close together. Instead of running three separate ads, the We Network printed a big billboard and chopped it into three pieces, not taking into account the gaps between the ad spaces and how that would distort the image.

BIG shoulders. GIANT torso. I see this twice a day and everytime I think this:

Don’t make the bride mad. You wouldn’t like the bride when she’s mad.

Real macabre art. I’m so happy.

Monday, June 7th, 2010

This past weekend I went to the Museum of Art and Design (or MAD), the new-ish museum in Columbus Circle. They have an exhibition right now called Dead or Alive, inspired by the cabinet of curiosity. The cabinet of curiosity is where the rich well-traveled, well-educated man in the 1700s and 1800s would put all of the natural items he had collected in distant lands (taxidermied beasties, shells, pinned bugs, coral, pressed plants, etc.). Here’s a picture of one to give you an idea.

Using the concept of the cabinet of curiosity, MAD created an exhibition of, well, dead things. It was very difficult not to think of this movie quote over and over again. (quote is at 1:25)

Being the somewhat gloomy goth-like creature that I am (you can review my Ossuary of Sedlec entry if there’s any doubt in your mind) I loved this exhibition. Actually, what’s even dorkier is that I have been following a few of the artists for years, and could make comments like, “Oh, she’s working with bone now! That’s a different medium for her, compared to the metalsmithing work she did in 2007.” I’m just going to cover a few of my favorite artists there. There was Jennifer Trask, the artist I was geeking out about above. I first saw her work at SOFA in 2007 or 2008. She did these amazing necklaces made with a beautiful marriage of the rare and the mundane. For example, snake skin that had been shed. Gold. Bone black. Raw diamonds. Silver. Butterfly wings. Charcoal. Leaves. Beetles. Here’s a picture of one of those necklaces.

Jennifer then went through a period where she made amazing pins. Here’s one of my favorites, using semi-precious stones, gold and some small animal’s vertibrae.

At the exhibition, Jennifer had a big wall piece, which I’m not used to seeing from her. It was great, though. She had a frame, and coming out of the frame were all these flowers, but all the flowers were made from bones. There were antlers too. I prefer her jewelry, but I like that she’s trying new stuff.

The other artist I was psyched to see was Alastair Mackie. He works a lot with owl pellets and the contents therein. In college, I wanted one of his mouse skull orbs so badly.

I was hoping to see a mouse skull orb in person at this exhibition but alas, it was not meant to be. Alastair had a piece where there was a loom, and next to it was a pile of mouse bones. Owl pellets, for people who don’t know, are the regurgitated inedible remains of their food. The owl can’t digest fur and bones, so his body makes a little packet out of it and he barfs it up. The loom had fabric woven on it with the fur of the mice, and the mouse bones were what was left of those pellets.

What delighted me more about this exhibition, more than the plethora of dead things, was the complete anal retentiveness of many of the artists. Sometimes I feel like I’m too nitpicky, but these artists made me feel right at home. “If it’s not tiny and perfect and complicated, don’t bother,” seems to be their motto. I was with my people, and it felt so good. Let me give you some examples. There was Fabian Pena, who makes collages of skulls and hearts and hands with tiny pieces of cockroach wings.

Or Tim Hawkinson, who made the pointy thing out of pieces of interlocking eggshell. He made a tiny bird skeleton out of fingernail clippings.

My personal favorite was the piece by Lonneke Gordijn, with the LED lights that had dandelion seeds painstakingly attached to each bulb to mimic a dandelion poof. These people are crazy, I tell ya. Crazy AWESOME.

There was also Kate MccGuire, who makes swirling writhing shapes with pigeon feathers.

But the big surprise winner for me was Jennifer Angus, who prints her own wallpaper and then makes installations in rooms where she covers the rooms in patterns of pinned dried bugs.

The best part of her installation was there was a dollhouse in the middle, and bugs were propped up on their hind legs pottering around the house, doing roofwork and fixing the porch and whatnot. I couldn’t find a picture of it, but I found a similar one to give you an idea.

The exhibition is on until October 24th, so if you get a chance, make an effort to see this. The permanent collection is pretty terrif too, and the store is stellar. All-around good stuff.

http://madmuseum.org/

Addendum: I totally forgot the light fixture made from silkworm cocoons, or the giant hairnet filled with milkweed seeds. Did I mention this exhibition is fantastical? Because it is.