Stoopid Storytime

Today the Dear Husband, mi Seestir and I flew to Sacramento to spend Xmas with my parents. Overall it was a good trip...we ate until we were stuffed stoopid and had a good visit, so all is good.

When we were taxiing along the LAX runway before being cleared for takeoff on our flight to Sacto, the DH muttered, Jeez, we're taking the scenic route to Sacramento! Which immediately reminded me of a time Back in the Day when my mom and I would fly from Sacramento to LA when her parents lived in Inglewood in the early '70's.

Insert flashback here:

I was but a small(well, relative to the size I am now. I was a big kid, though. My mom still sighs in exasperation over the memories of trying to lug me around when I was young), annoying child. Usually the stewardesses(that's what they were called back then) would stuff an amazing amount of chalk-like peppermint candy down my gullet to keep me quiet on these repeated flights. I don't know if I was more quiet as a result, but I certainly was fat and happy!

Often, we would share these flights on a regional airline, PSA, with then-California governor Ronald Reagan. Yeah, no sh!t! The plane would stop on the tarmac before pulling up to the gate, he'd get seated on the plane, then the rest of us plebians would shuffle on at the terminal entrance after he was settled in.













Apparently one time when we were walking past him to our seats farther back in the plane, I pointed at him and yelled in my 3-year-old voice, Look Mom! It's a Big Boy! while clutching a Big Bird puppet/doll to my little girl torso. Calling any males "boys" was my thing as a kid. I've been told it came from my dad.

My mom was mortified. Ronald Reagan was amused.

Even though this was a time when plane hijackings were more common(especially to Cuba...why the fuck would anyone want to go to Communist Cuba?!), comments like this from a redheaded three-year old girl with a funny bowl haircut was met with amusement, unlike today, where a child like me who said similar things probably would've been maced in the face on general principle.














But that's not even the story I was gonna tell. Yep, I have moar to type.


One time I remember a plane trip where it was foggy in Sacramento. We managed to take off, but I don't remember taking off, I just remember the plane taxiing on the runway for what seemed like hours.

So my four-year-old mind thought that the plane drove to LA instead of flying.

Did I fall asleep? Was I hopped up on that chalky candy that the stewardesses handed out by the tray to annoying little kids like me?

I dunno, all I thought was that this was an awfully long trip on the ground even though we were in a plane.

So I shared this little story with the DH today while we were taxiing to take off to Sacramento. And as we landed back at LAX in the evening, we did some more major taxiing on the runways back to the terminal, and the DH said, Now I can see why you thought you drove to LA in a plane, this is taking FOREVER.

Yeah, a child's fantasies are certainly more interesting than an adult's reality, are they not?













One last note...I called PSA planes "big birds" because of the smiley faces that the planes had painted on their noses. Anthropomorphizing, I was.

What, that's not normal?!

My Mostest Prized Computer Possession

One of my most valuable files on my old computer was my "jpgs" file. Whenever I found something beautiful, horrifying, or inspirational, it was saved in that file.

As I was burning my eyes out doing the file transfer from old computer to new(which I'm still not done with), I almost forgot about the file. Then last night, just as I was dozing off, I jolted myself awake with, DON'T FORGET ABOUT THE JPG FILE, DUMBASS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This morning I transferred it, with a great sigh of relief.

There's some hysterical stuff in there.

Here's a very, very small sampling. I didn't include the artwork that I've gathered, as I don't have permission from the artists to repost their stuff. Most of the art stuff I've gathered is rad pinup girls, so you're gonna miss out! Photos in my world is fair game, however...


Jean Harlow:




















I find her fascinating because she's really kinda funny looking if you get a good gander at her. Yet she was most definitely a beautiful woman. I think her personality shows through, which is what makes her so gorgeous.

This isn't art, so I included it:















Remember Baby Looney Tunes? Yeah, I worked on that. Some would think I should do the world a favor by offing myself for it, but hey, the industry is nothing if not crapacious sometimes.

This particular frame-grab was thrown up onto the web by a very angry Looney Tunes fan who posted it on an animation board screaming about how this show pisses on the old Looney Tunes legacy, etc.

I drew that particular scene, you see. Yep, baby kitty rapping. Oh, the shame!

I also did a scene where a certain young stuttering pig eats ham. That's right. I DID IT.

And it was funny. At least in the storyboard stage. I got some comments on that, oh yes I did.

My reaction? Hey, I helped piss on the old Looney Tunes legacy! Woohoo!

I have to admit, I did stuff on that show that would've made a professional blush.


From the LiveJournal photo feed:



















I don't know what's going on here, but it's amusing.

The LJ Photofeed is where I get most of my stuff. It has everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING. From cartoons to pinups to photos of cats to landscapes to museum exhibitions to suicide aftermaths to p0rn. Lots of p0rn. Too much goddam p0rn.

What's really annoying about the p0rn is that the uploads are the same 20 damn photos. Which is baffling to me...a world full o' internets and more than a world full o' porn and people only have the creativity to repost the same threesomes time after time? If I'm going to get grossed out by double penetration, I'd like to see some creativity from the users by using the goddam Google site to get some new material, dammit.


Where was I? Oh yeah, looking at stuff that I LIKE to look at:

Joan Crawford:




















Goddam, but she was HOT in the 1930's. I can't say much more than that.



More Live Journal:




















Yeah, it's some critter eating that fish's tongue. Ewwwwwwww.



WWII fighter planes:




















I found this as I was starting the Fight Crew Death from Above girl-on-a-plane. The plane I ended up practically tracing in Illustrator was a Spitfire.

Huh, now that I think about it, I don't know if I have that particular file anymore...I did some heavy-duty deleting the other day, and that may have been a casualty. Rut-roh!


Moar WWII propaganda:




















The drawing itself is interesting, but what got me was the "bag of trouble". Fucking hilarious.

This is from an art exhibit in England:




















I guess this breaks my "no posting art" rule, doesn't it?

Damn, but I'm a liar.

For some reason, people got their panties in a bunch over the exhibit. Which I don't understand. I think it's hilarious.



Vintage ad:




















I forget whether I grabbed this because of her pose or the fact that it's funny to have a "witch" be a pitchperson for boot polish. Either way, I win for saving it to begin with.


Last and least:




















Doofus!


So now I have to hustle to get ready to fly up to NoCal for Xmas. Hope everyone has a fun and safe holiday. I still say "Happy holidays" as I'm still a holiday opportunist. So there.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!

ZOMG

I'm starting to transfer all the files from my old computer to my brand-spankin' new computer, now that I have a minute to breathe as I wait for my final notes on my latest freelance.

Getting a new computer is super, but transferring, organizing and deleting the 10 metric tons o' files(mostly derby and art related crap) is already making my head hurt and I just started on it this morning.

Of course it's raining, so I can't distract myself with a nice beach skate. Dammit.

And I haven't done much in the way of holiday shopping. Dammit.

And I'm eating too much and have gained about 8 pounds. Dammit.

BUTT, I've been watching cool old movies galore. So there.

Alright, back to making my eyes bleed some more...

*sigh*

Another rainy day.

Fits my mood.

My email screwed up last week and decided to mark everything from my current freelance employer as spam, so I missed the email where they sent me notes on my work. So now I'm two days behind on an already tight schedule. Greeeat.

I ran for craptain of my team for the upcoming season.

And lost.

That makes me sad. And adrift.

I've been feeling a disconnect from the team this past season in particular, but this just puts the cherry on top. I get my body back in fighting shape and my mind goes in a different direction from everyone else. Greeeeeeeeeeat.

I can't wait to see what else harshes my mellow this week.

Arghlblslghhglewlgh

I'm tired.

Sleeping has been inconsistent at best the past couple of weeks, and it probably won't get back to normal until I'm done with the current crop of freelance. At least now I can almost have a real hiatus from derby; our game last Saturday went really well. I didn't get to play, but I yelled from the sidelines a lot and our team won. Yay!

Here's more derby-related doodles:

Varsity Brawler:




















And my favorite team, FIGHT CREW:





















Again, I gotta work on all of these so that they don't suck so much. Since it's cold and rainy today, I might get the chance. In the meantime, read up on more Redneck Theater hilarity.

Drawing...

Sad that Bettie Page died.

At least she had a good run.

In that spirit, I did some team-themed really, really rough doodles:

Tough Cookie:




















Siren:




















Ri-Ette.





















Oof. Gotta work on all that stuff more.

Moar Beavis silliness of a (thankfully) benign nature here.

Ya Get What Ya Pay For...

Thanksgiving weekend I threw my lower back out something fierce. Luckily I was able to pop it back into place, but it took a whole day of hobbling around on crutches and cussing non-stop to be able to get to that point.

Things were fine by my birthday weekend, thank goodness.

This past Saturday morning the Husband mentioned something about him thinking he's getting sick. However, he always thinks he's getting sick, so I didn't pay much attention.

He got sick.

Then on Monday after practice, I noticed that my throat was sore and scratchy.

Dammit.

Tuesday morning I woke up with my ears plugged up, my throat still sore, and now my upper back was in horrible pain.

WTF?!?!?!

The back thing is a reoccuring event...the Thanksgiving weekend incident was basically my Yearly Blowing Out My Back Again in November. But the getting sick thing pisses me off, mainly because I went and got a flu shot in mid-November. OK, it was a free flu shot, but I had hoped it would've staved off the thick, cottony monster that's currently residing in my sinuses and ears. No such luck.

Luckily(?!?!) for me, I'm not skating fer shure in the last game of the Derby Dolls season this coming Saturday. In fact, I don't anticipate skating at all, since I'm officially an alternate and the team has its full roster going in.

Which brings me to another tangent...being an on-call alternate sucks. Alternates aren't in the infield during a game, but they're suited up on the outside of the track, ready to go in case a regular player goes out due to injury. So they get to watch the game, but they can't do the other fun thing that one usually does when watching a game...drink. I'm sorry, but watching roller derby when completely sober isn't as much fun as when one has a beer or 24.

And even if a team member goes out during the game, I personally don't think I should be put in.

Why?

Because the team has 15 of the best players the league has. Within their normal teams, those players are in at least half the jams during a regular game. During an all-star game, they play less, because everyone's fairly equal skills-wise, so for the most part everyone gets rotated in equally. Which means they don't hit their usual ass-kicking stride, because they're playing less than half the jams.

So if I'm put in, not only do I not get into my ass-kicking groove, but it prevents most of the other players from hitting their respective ass-kicking grooves, too.

Bleh. I'd rather sit and drink from the sidelines.

Then again, maybe it's just the Sudafed talking.

Back to work...

I Can Has Communist Party?

Birthday banner:





































People kept saying I should make a shirt or poster out of that. I don't know if it's economically feasable to do so, as I don't think I'm that popular. But it was fun to do the banner anyway!


Had a fun birthday. Had a fun party. I has some good friends!

Surprisingly sedate...no one passed out, no furniture was broken, no bottles were thrown, no wrestling, no sharpie tattoos, no phone calls to the cops, no unintentional fires...and I forgot to bring out the birthday cake.

But that's OK. I had a blast, and I hope everyone who showed up did, too!

Check out the birthday edition of Redneck Theater while you're at it!

I'm Retarded...

I've mentioned before how I've been made fun of for drawing some of my boards horribly off-model, and the latest freelance is no exception.

Here we have an example of what the show I'm currently freelancing on looks like:




















And here we have an example of my weird take on their style:

















Model sheets? Screw 'em.

I apparently am going to do whatever I want and hope for the best. At least I'm having fun with my drawing shorthand.

Ah, the hilarity.



************************************************

Over Thanksgiving weekend I stumbled across and became obsessed with the Ovation network's Andy Warhol's Factory People marathon while I recovered from my Annual Throwing Out My Back During November mini-crisis.

When I was in my late teens/early twenties I LOVED Andy Warhol's work. I remember writing a paper for one of my art classes in college comparing the popular impact of Warhol to Raphael in each on their contemporary bretheren. I got an "A" on that mutha, btw.

Then I studied more art and became disillusioned with Warhol and thought he was an opportunist. I still think that, but sometimes being an opportunist is pretty fucking awesome, because having that type of timing is an art in and of itself. It made him bank, that's for damn sure.

Did he get satisfaction from it? Hard to tell.

It seemed that he didn't have much in the way of lifelong friends...you look at the biographies of the Factory People and it seems that very few if any lasted longer than a few years before they were gone from Warhol's scene for one reason or another.

I think that's where I get Warhol...I've known some people for a long time but in a way I haven't kept many lifelong friends. That coldness is what I respond to in Warhol's work, for better or worse.

But he managed to create and hold a scene, which is an accomplishment for someone who came across as a helpless nerd. Way to go, Andy! He knew how to pick 'em, gawd bless him:

For the Luddites and Old People:

Found this elsewhere and am posting it here...Louis CK on Conan O'Brien:



Enjoy while I workworkwork while listening to Robert Mitchum movies on the DVD player.

In Just Over a Week...

I'm gonna be saying this:




















I guess I'll find out for realz if 40 is the new 30.

Happy Thanksgiving, all!

Fryday

As I was searching for designs and paperwork for the latest freelance I'm doing, I came across this little piece of stoopid:






















I think I drew it the week after I got kicked out of the last Fight Crew vs. Sirens game.

I've Been Remiss...

I've been remiss in two areas on this-here blog.

One is providing proof that I indeed dressed like Nurse Ratchett for Halloween. So here ya go, me and Suzy Snakeyes in our respective costumes while announcing for the Angel City Derby Girls:




















As you can see, the front of my hair didn't reach epic height proportions. Oh well!



And hey! A doodle!















I may work on it later to flesh it out more. I may not.




I, or uh, Tara got paid a helluva compliment the other day by one of the Derby Dolls' ref crew, Beth Penalty:

Tarametrics gave me arthritis.

NOT... as a matter of Fact.. I never knew I had arthritis until I did Tarametrics.

Did Tarametrics give me arthritis? of course not. But I went to the
doctor after Tarametrics (my arms hurt for, like, three months...) and found
out I have arthritis ( _http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Psoriatic_arthritis_
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Psoriatic_arthritis) )

so, basically. Tarametrics cures cancer. that's all i'm saying.
basically. you can Substitute Tara Armov for Chuck Norris on all of those Chuck
Norris facts....

Tara Armov's #1 Export is Pain.

When the Boogeyman goes to bed each night, he checks his closet for Tara Armov.

Tara Armov can kill two stones with one bird.

When Tara Armov does a pushup, she isn't lifting herself up, she's
pushing the earth down.

Tara Armov doesn't wear a watch, SHE decides what time it is.

Tara Armov can slam a revolving door.

Tara Armov doesn't get frost bite. Tara Armov bites frost.

Beth and I once saw Tara Armov cure a blind man just by being next to
him, but the first and last thing that blind man ever saw was her smashing
into him with a hip check that sent him into orbit dot com.

That is some funny sh!t! Someday I hope to meet Chuck Norris so that we can destroy the world.

Sandra Homemaker

To un-depress myself after yesterday's CRAPACIOUS day, I'll yap about what I did on Thursday.

It was our 14th wedding anniversary. I had no idea what to get for the Dear Husband since he goes out and buys stuff for himself all the time, so around Monday or so I decided to do something that the poor boy never gets: dinner cooked at home. I decided to add to the fun by dressing up like a housewife, too.

Luckily I found a site that loves all things vintage, The Fedora Lounge. I stumbled upon it while I was trying to find a way to pull off the whole Nurse Ratchett hairdo for Halloween. There I researched the best way to do my hair. This is what happens when I do pincurls:




















Holy crap do I look old! I'm asking for botox for my birthday!


I then had to figure out what exactly I was going to cook. It's not that I can't cook, I'm just horribly inexperienced. I happened to have a cookbook at home, and after thumbing through it about a hundred times, decided on chicken cacciatore. I've never had chicken cacciatore before in my life, but I wasn't going to let that stop me, and it looked fairly easy.

I did the smart thing and did a quick search on the internet about chicken cacciatore, and before I even started I found vays to customize the recipe I had so that it would rock out loud. Of course, with Italian cooking it's easy...when in doubt, just add more garlic.

When the DH left for work, he mentioned something about going for sushi for dinner. I acted noncommittal and told him to call me before he came home. As soon as he left, I sprang into action.

Sort of.

I went for a beach skate to get my exercise for the day out of the way. Then I sat around and goofed off on the internet, then went shopping for foodstuffs.

After setting my hair, I got to cooking. Did dessert first(an apple crisp thing that was merely an excuse to get ice cream to put on top of it). Then started on the main course.

I mentioned the part where the DH was supposed to call before he came home, right? Well, he didn't.

I hadn't even started on the pasta portion of dinner when I heard his motorcycle roar up the driveway. Dammit. I ran off to get my shoes(high heels, no less) while he put the bike away. I step back into the kitchen to check on the food, and I see the DH staring at me from the garage, looking in through the kitchen window. He looked...confused.

But I guess that isn't surprising when he sees THIS in his kitchen:




















Poor bastard.

I handed him a Cosmopolitan when he got inside(which I have been told by the derby's art department that Cosmos are totally gay drinks. I don't agree, and it's my house, my anniversary, so there!) and got back to finishing cooking. The DH HAD to get a photo:





















And finally, dinner is served:















Yes, we sat at the dining table like grownups and everything!

The DH claimed that he liked it. Of course, if he didn't, he would've faced dire consequences!

There, blogging about this has cheered me up. It doesn't hurt that I've been watching the WFTDA Nationals on the internet and have been almost keeping up with what's going on with that. Wish I was there, but that's OK.

Not Happy

I'm having One of Those Days.

I can't work, because I can't figure out how to unzip stuff from the ftp site that has all the designs and voicetrack that I need to get to work. Oh, and I can't print the script from Adobe Reader.

I can't upload the magnificent photos of me looking like a girl for my anniversary, because the printer that I plug the camera chip into has decided to not work. The other camera that also has photos has mysteriously disappeared from the dining table.

Oh, and I was supposed to psychically figure out that I'd have these problems before the Dear Husband left for work today.

I'm fucking pissed, because there's other stuff That I Can't Talk About going on, too.

I want to run away from home.

I'm out of step. Out of sync. Out of the loop. Out of the office. Out of touch. Out to lunch. Out of my mind.

AHAHAHHAHA!!!

I mentioned the fucking MURAL that the scamps who do the Derby Dolls video/sound production did of me, right?

Well, I finally got the Dear Husband to take some photos:


Mural in progress last month:
















And a wider shot:




















Last night was the Derby Dolls season championships. I was planning on being a drunken spectator for the game, but the Sirens asked me at the last minute to be their team manager, as their regular manager was sick. I was happy to oblige, and so I got to look like a demented cop:







































Too bad I didn't wear my captain's hat in the above photos, though I did during the game.


Like last year, the game came down to the final jam. The Sirens held a slim lead, but the Tough Cookies managed to squeak out five points to win the game by 2 POINTS.

It.

Was.

INSANE.

Both teams did an incredible job, and I can't wait to see how awesome everyone will be next season.

I had a blast being a team manager, and had a bigger blast seeing the stunned reactions of fellow skaters and fans when I stomped through the Dollhouse in blue. And I managed to not get thrown out of the game, because I think we all know by now that if there was a way for a non-skater to get thrown out, I'd be the one to do it!

My Stars!

Remember this cartoon?



The big red character therein was alternately called "Rudolph" or "Gossamer". When I was working on Pinky & the Brain the whole studio store craze was in full swing, and at the time the WB stores had some great watches. I found one with Bugs and Gossamer, bought it right away, and wore it almost all the time for ten years.

Then I lost it two years ago.

I pretty much stopped wearing a watch after that. It wasn't because I didn't have other watches...I have a nice little Mickey Mouse watch from when I was in high school. Then there's the glow-in-the-dark Pinky & the Brain watch. And the Soviet Navy watch(that's kinda broken after I threw it against a wall in an absolute rage). The 2nd place watch I'd occasionally wear when I wanted to "dress up" is a square-faced solo Bugs Bunny.

But none of them were like the Bugs Bunny/Gossamer watch. It was me.

I'd torn the house apart several times over the past two years searching for the damned thing. No luck. Cursing violently didn't seem to help. I racked my brain trying to remember the last time I'd worn it...I narrowed it down to the team photo shoot we did for the Derby Dolls calendar two years ago. But since the watch was in the pictures, it must've survived the shoot. See photo evidence below, on my right wrist:
















Or not, since I didn't have the watch.

So I was resigned to never having as cool a watch as that again.

Until Monday.

The Dear Husband decided to switch our cable and internet service from the local cable company to our phone company. So we had to do some major cleaning and rearranging of some of our stuff so that the installation dudes can replace the cable boxes, etc.

I was cleaning out some old VHS tapes that were under the table that the tv sits on in the den when...voila! THE WATCH REAPPEARED!

It was partially in an empty VHS box, it had some cat piss on it, but IT WAS BACK!

I cleaned it up and took it to get a fresh battery yesterday. Ahhhhhh, I feel like a small piece of me is back, as stupid as that sounds.

Now if I can only get the rest of my life organized and in place...

My Thoughts On Election Day

Ok...

After a Lost Weekend where I ate, drank, and smoked to excess in honor of Lardo, I'm back on a more normal keel.

Well, normal for me, at any rate.


For once I'm not dressing in something revealing, short-skirted, or in any way slutty for Halloween. Yes, I'm bucking the Hussy Trend by dressing as Nurse Ratchet from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.


You can stop laughing now.














The nurse's cap was surprisingly easy to get, once I googled it properly. Attaching it to my head might be tricky.

EDIT: attaching that thing is a BIG pain in the tuchus. It didn't come with instructions on how to attach it, so I googled it. Holy cow. Synching up the hair and the cap is going to be a nightmare for this idiot.

The nurse outfit was harder, and the one I got isn't exact by a long shot, but it's white.

The shoes I'm faking, as real nurse's shoes are fucking expensive.

The hair? Oh gawd, the hair.

I'm barely going to be able to do it, as my bangs are short. But I did find that with enough hair spray and cussing, I'll get a pass if I do what the rockabilly chicks call "victory rolls" in the front. I'm just going to use a curling iron to curl the rest of my hair under in the back.

I should look absolutely retarded.

Unfortunately, the big Halloween party that we've gone to the past couple of years thrown by Rough Draft studios isn't happening this year. Dammit. So we're going to invite some Drunk Scouts over tomorrow night and hand out candy to the kids and play pool in the back room. Should be fun.



Last weekend the Derby Dolls had a Babydoll Brawl, featuring up-and-coming skaters who haven't been placed on teams yet. It was a fun bout. At halftime our new Jr. Derby Dolls took to the track for a 15 minute game. It was PRECIOUS.

Afterwards, I was smoking in the parking lot and one of the Jr. Dolls came up to me and threw her arms around my waist. I'm so glad you saw us skate, Tara! Thanks! she said.

My mind was blown.

First, kids either love me or hate me. No inbetweens. But I still get tripped out when a kid instantly gloms on to me.

Second, I only taught at the Jr. League Summer Bootcamp for one day in July...I tortured them with Tarametrics and taught them some backwards skating tips. But that's all I did. For this future badass to remember me is amazing in my mind.

Third, what must her mom think?!

Friday was a Suck@$$ day

The doodle should explain why.

He came into my life on his own terms, and he left a day earlier than I planned to...sort of on his own terms. We still had to take him to the vet for the Final Goodbye, but we were going to do it Saturday, not Friday. He always liked throwing us off, dammit. But he was the consummate cat.

All in all, he was a tough little bastard who went through a LOT, but it was comforting to hear from the folks at the vet's that they thought I did good by him.

I miss him.

A lot.

Angry Doodle

This is an angry doodle:















Kinda OK, but the expression on her face is in dire need of finessing.

Ugh

The battle of wits with the cat is ongoing.

I had to take the diabetic cat to the vet about a month ago because it had been over a year since he'd last been, he's old, and is getting picky about what he eats. Which makes it difficult to give him his insulin, because if he doesn't eat enough, he goes into insulin shock. Oh joy.

So the vet says that diabetic kitty is having thyroid issues, so he puts the little booger on thyroid medication. All is fine for a couple of weeks, then the "fun" begins.

The cat started pooping. A lot. And throwing up. A lot. Then he stopped eating. Uh-oh. At first I thought he just didn't like his food, because it's not as if he didn't ever poo and puke where he wasn't supposed to at odd times before. Hell, he's gone on hunger strikes before when he didn't approve of his food selection.

I took the cat back to the vet, and we both assume it's the insulin that's negatively affecting the cat. So I cut back on the insulin dosage. But not on the thyroid medication. Same soopy-poopy problems, so over the weekend I decide to stop giving the cat medication after he crapped on our bed for the second time. This is after the cat decides he's not gonna eat no way no how after I tried to force-feed him on Friday.

Ever try to force-feed a cat? Don't fucking do it.

Today he's still feeling queasy, but I can tell already that he's feeling a little better than he did over the weekend. Once he starts eating on his own again, it's back to the vet yet again.

In the meantime, I'm cleaning up an amazing amount of cat poop.

















EDIT: it looks like it's the end of the road for my cat. There's a large mass/growth thingy around his pancreas that's affecting his ability to eat and digest food. Considering his age and condition, the vet doesn't recommend surgery. So we're keeping Lardo as comfortable as possible until the weekend when we have to say goodbye.

This sucks.

Gangly

Another silly doodle:




















I gotta fix her hands...it's almost portfolio-worthy otherwise.

Blah...

I'm in a "Yeah, whatever" mood today. Always a fine line between good and bad stuff going on, and I realize "good" and "bad" are extremely relative these days...

Good things: my portfolio is out and about. I have some freelance lined up to start after Halloween. I had lunch with RC and Mudsock yesterday and it was fun. I've lost half the weight I gained by porking out over the weekend.

Bad things: internal politics suck. Some aspects involving a certain group in a certain bigger group are going backwards not forwards but as usual, I'm like Cassandra and will be ignored at best. Whatthehellever. The fires in SoCal have affected a few people I know, including one of my teachers from CalArts, Corny Cole. Sad. I still don't know who I'm voting for on Nov. 4. SRSLY. But I'm having fun watching/listening to the Frontline show on Obama and McCain.

Ok, here's a stoopid doodle I did while working on the last batch of freelance:

















I think I was thinking of superhero chicks at the time.

Blown Away

Here's the back of the SNIFF shirt for 2008. If you didn't get one, you should wish you did:

















I didn't do the painting of Stella depicted here. Professor and stealth artist Beate did. But I did arrange all the text and stuff. Woohoo!

And FINALLY...a Redneck Theater update.

A Failure I care about...

Banks are failing, the stock market is plunging, and things look bad in retailand.

But I try to stay positive, since I don't have diddley in the stock market (the Dear Husband isn't so carefree) and in general I'm broke, so I can't go much lower.

And then I read the most horriblest of horrible news:

Mother's Cookies shuts down.

AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If I can no longer buy these:























I have no reason to live.

Rushing

I'm rushing around this Yom Kippur getting ready for a quick trip to Jackson, CA.

Damn, I'm hungry.

And I know you're hungry for something other than my derby babblings, especially with a Redneck Theater update wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy overdue.

Well, too bad, all I have time for is more self-congratulatory, self-references on my self-blog.

The most relevant portions of losangelous' review:

9.30pm. Midway through the fourth quarter, Brawler co-capitanitas Long Island Lolita and Juana Beat’n are ejected in close succession, and again and of course DF has no clue why. But the crowd boos and cheers in equal measure, and it all works out quite well as the VBs’ two standout skaters get a moment in the spotlight, however pseudo-ignominious. Perhaps of even more note, though, not a single FC skater is ejected. (This is a good result in theory, but then again, the late-game Armov heave-ho was becoming as much a derby tradition as baseball’s seventh-inning stretch, and I must admit I kind of missed it.)

9.43pm. As the bout winds down, Vulvarine ices the Crew’s victory cake with a record-tying ten-point jam, and even Tara Armov gets a turn as jammer. But the final word goes to Judy Gloom, who punctuates her return to form after a long road back from injury with yet another five-point jam, earning honors as the game’s top-scoring jammer, and putting the exclamation point on the Fight Crew’s 78-23 victory over the Varsity Brawlers. On paper it’s a crushing margin of defeat, but it’s as mutually feel-good derby result as DF has ever seen; the big win was a much-needed tonic for the Crew after a disappointing 2008 regular season, and the Brawlers certainly have everything to be proud of after a fully meritorious and really quite promising debut.

See ya next week.

Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board...

That's how I'm feeling after Saturday's game.

My team WON. By a LOT. Something like a 50 point spread. Yeah, I know!

I DIDN'T GET EJECTED.

I got close to the ejection threshold, but was held back by an event no one saw coming...

I JAMMED AND DIDN'T SUCK TOO BAD.

For those who have never seen me skate, this is a BIG DEAL. I'm not an agile, lithe jammer. I'm a big, oafish blocker. However, near the end of the game our jammers were getting tired, yet we still had around 3 jams left in the game. So our team manager Kasey Bomber turned to me and said, "Hey Tara, wanna jam?" I looked over at the other team and said, It depends on who goes up in their pack. Kasey stares at me and says, "YOU THINK IT MATTERS?!?!?!"

Right then the Varsity Brawlers' team captain (who is also one of the hardest hitters in the league) got ejected for penalties. So I grabbed the white jammer helmet cover and said, OK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The best part of my Epic Jam (other than keeping the other jammer from scoring by calling off the jam before I could rack up any points myself) was hearing the announcers after I broke out of the pack the first time (jammers gotta get through the pack once, skate a lap to catch up to the pack, and then on their second round they get points), "And jamming for Fight Crew...TARA ARMOV??!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!"

It was fun.

The game was fun.

WINNING WAS REALLY FUN!!!!!


Here's some pix from Rinkrat:


Me watching the rest of my team do the dirty work:
















Juana Beat'n sets her sights on Judy Gloom, who is hiding behind my behemoth mass:















Murals in progress:
















And the money shot of the evening...Tara jamming.



















I got some great comments through the course of the evening, including:

I never noticed the look you get in your eyes when you're about to hit someone. It'd stop ANYONE with any sense!

When you jammed, YOU WERE SO FAST! I didn't know you could skate that fast!

YOU MADE IT THROUGH THE ENTIRE GAME! Did the victory lap feel weird?


It may have been the last game of the season for my team, but it was a victory that we needed, and I think we'll be the Dream Team in the '09 season!

My Dinner with Adrien

I've been riding a motorcycle for just over ten years.

It used to be the most interesting thing about me, until I started skating roller derby. Somehow that's overshadowed the motorcycles and copious amounts of leather I wear while riding. I'm baffled, too.

The Dear Husband and I have met some amazing people while traveling around near and far...we have friends across the continent and as close as a mile from us. The funny thing about meeting them through motorcycling is that we initially met them over the internet.

One particular group we met through the internet is scattered across southern California, with smatterings in Florida, Arizona and the midwest. We call them "netscum", and we met most of them in Cypress, CA a few months after we got our bikes.

It was at an event that's become a ritual known as "Free Beer". It's a yearly party held at Fred and Cindy's house. When we met them, we didn't know them, and they didn't know us. We sat in their backyard, mainly keeping to ourselves and people-watching while they kinda kept to themselves and mingled. As the evening wore on and the drinking continued, I ended up sitting next to a long-haired individual with a biting wit and a never-ending beer glass. Adrien.

We didn't make a great impression on Adrien. In fact, he disliked us.

Greatly.

He doesn't even remember talking to me at Free Beer, but he does remember us showing up to his house a few weeks later when he had a party. He definitely didn't like either of us after talking with us then.

He continued to dislike us for awhile. We just weren't his people. On the surface, both the DH and I can be jerks. Well, even when you get to know us, we can be jerks. Adrien's surface can be a bit rough, too. So we all tried to get along while bristling a little bit.

Funny thing though...I always liked Adrien, even when he'd rather have his face eaten by piranhas than have to deal with my general idiocy at various social netscum events. And my idiocy knows no bounds.

The following summer after we met the netscum at the first Free Beer, the DH went on a roadtrip to a bbq in Illinois(and what other reason would one go to Illinois other than a weekend bbq?)with some of the netscum. That group was lead by Adrien. Oh boy. This was gonna be interesting for the DH.

Adrien made the dry promise to me of not killing and/or abandoning the DH on the trip. He kept that promise, but it was still a kind of hazing for the DH.

The DH got a lot of grief for not being a morning person in a group of morning people. He got grief for taking forever to put on his raingear when everyone else got suited up right away. He got grief for his fear of tornadoes as they rode towards a few. He got grief for getting his then-long hair stuck in his tent zipper after being told by Adrien's then-girlfriend that he looks better when his hair isn't tied back in a ponytail. He got grief for almost getting run over in the middle of the highway while drunkenly trying to cross it after a night of drinking Everclear(how the entire group survived the trip based on what I heard about that bar-stop boggles my mind).

But a funny thing also happened on that trip. Because the DH essentially rolled with the punches and his knowledge of both practical and esoteric subjects was occasionally helpful, Adrien started to minutely change his opinion of the DH.

As the years went on, and the netscum hung out, lived life, talked a lot, got together, and occasionally even rode together, Adrien stopped disliking us. It was gradual and organic. He soon grew to tolerate us better. An early thawing happened when Adrien and I discovered that we both loved watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and enjoyed watching old movies. Every time we saw Adrien, I'd end up sitting with him discussing film, tv, and art, with an occasional side trip to truly intellectual subjects where Adrien did most of the talking while I tried to follow along. Which no one would expect from a couple of long-haired motorcycle-riding scumbags who also happen to be semi-closet nerds. And it was fun.

A few major life-changing events happened in the netscum group, and some people's character really showed through. Trust was tested, backup was needed, and emotional upheaval was strong, unwieldy and ugly.

That's when Adrien decided that we were his people after all, because neither us nor he buckled under the pressure. These events made all of us a bit more philosophical. He actually likes us now.

And that was a revelation that has benefitted us.


As life went on, we saw the netscum group as a whole less and less, even though we still rode. Some people in the group have left for their own paths, and some people won't leave, no matter what. We mostly still see them at Free Beer over at Fred and Cindy's house every autumn. And so that's when I sit with Adrien, discussing whatever we feel like discussing at the time under the influence of beer and the highly alcoholic contents of what is known as the Ugly Jug(and it's damn ugly some years). That's grown to be my favorite part of Free Beer.


This year was no different. Adrien and I sat and talked about The Dark Knight, Laurel and Hardy, roller derby, our pets, our spouses, new cars, riding, my crapacious job outlook, and Adrien's writing all while I gnawed on some bbq ribs. Adrien commented, I love these conversations! We don't do this enough! True. Thank goodness for email though, right? Yes, we gotta email more often, Adrien replied.





















In his most recent email to me, Adrien included a link to a story he wrote that just got put on the interwebs for all to read. I now know that I can meditate after all and figure out how to solve problems. You smart people will enjoy it, even if you've never read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance...I've never read it, but am now tempted to even if I don't understand the whole thing.

It's almost too bad that Free Beer happens but once a year.

Oh, and the above drawing was done as a thank you card for Fred and Cindy for holding Free Beer. I had fun using a brush pen for it.