We're pathologically social. We're professional leisurists. We're burrito lovers, bar flies, art whores and music nerds. We dish the good dirt, and we'll risk a parking ticket for a cheap sample sale. Sometimes, we blog drunk.
Bust out your berets, people
Hey, what'd you do this weekend? Oh, sweated a lot and wished you were dead? Oh em gee, me too!
Moving on to the week ahead: I don't know about you, but I'm growing my goatee out.
This week is SO artsy, you're going to be left with a beret cocked to the side and a face permanently distored into an expression of bemused evaluation. Like this man:
I'm genuinely hyper about these shows coming up:
Wednesday:
Learn to build a mini park the size of a parking spot in preparation for this awesome day
Thursdsay:
Naked crotches covered in cake sprinkles
A stone-faced homage to deadpan comedy
Friday
Get Wacko and praise (La Luz de) Jesus with Miles Thompson
Saturday:
Photorealistic anti-war work about magnificent bastards
Chango's art steps it up a notch
Buy a little bird for $100 bones
Pick up the pieces with some medical illustration collage
Also, my dear comrade and right-coaster David Hochbaum is in from NY installing his Sept 15 solo show at Corey Helford. If you email him, he might even want your help. He says he's "making a 15 foot high tower of babel out of ladders and need anyone who knows their way around power tools, chop saw, nail guns, drills.. I also could use a hand on some of the wall installation and hanging the 461 birds."
Um, okay. Looking forward to that, whatever the hell it is.
Now, back to the post-holiday work load. Not that anyone cares at all, but I came into work early to find that they serve oatmeal in a huge cauldron in the LA Times' cafeteria in the mornings. It was awesome.
Miss Alie Ward
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