More Drawings, A Little Less Talk, and a Whole Lot of Poo’

Hello Readers! Are you still there? It has been a while. I’m happy to report that I have not abandoned this blog.

I’ve been meaning to do a blog post since September, but then I got ridiculously pregnant, and everything I was writing and drawing was a total pile of crap. Normally I am pro-crap piles, but only if it’s intentional (if you know me at all, you know how much I love a nice steaming pile of poo’).

Poop

No kidding though, I really have been busy these last few months. I have good reason for not posting a new blog entry…and yes, I do believe in the art of presenting believable excuses for not getting jack shit done.

Back in September, we went on our first “vacation” as a family, to Florida. I’d like to say that all my planning really paid off, but nothing could resolve the fact that we were traveling with a toddler.

The fun began at the airport…I made Ben carry the car seat in a special car seat carrying backpack, which I had read on some mommy blog is absolutely necessary for travel. This picture doesn’t even come close to accurately depicting how awkwardly huge it was (I was too lazy to redraw it). It looked like the backpack was wearing him. Ben’s whole body was lurching forward, and he never stopped sweating.

I highly recommend it!

Ben_carseat_bag

Liam nursed the entire plane ride there and back. He’s off the charts for his height. In the world of mommy blogs, he’d be described as “absolutely thriving,” which is great and all, but it looked like I was nursing an eleven year old.

Sarah_Toddler_nursing

We did not purchase a seat for Liam, so we had the joy of being crushed by his large body for the duration of the flight. He had a great time harassing fellow passengers and repeatedly opening and closing the window shade and tray table. I know the bald gentleman in front of us loved it, because he kept peeking back at us between the seats, obviously yearning to join in on the fun.

On_Airplane_to_FLA

When we got to Florida, Liam decided to stop sleeping. We quickly realized that a vacation with a toddler is not really a vacation, but rather a constant reminder as to why you should never leave your house again, and instead,  just live vicariously through travel magazines.

So you may be thinking, “Wow, really? You’ve been too busy to write a blog post because you went on a vacation back in September?”

NOOOOOO, obviously not. I’ve got plenty more excuses!

I also spent an ample amount of time looking for programs to watch on Hulu. I watched a documentary about the horrors of cow’s milk (bear with me)… which led to a documentary about slaughter houses (seriously, I’ll get to the validity of this excuse)…which led to my husband, our toddler (Liam), and I all going vegetarian. You might not think that’s a viable excuse, but I’m telling you, it is. Changing our diet was incredibly time consuming because I had to spend a lot of mental energy worrying about our protein intake and making sure my husband wasn’t gonna grow man boobs from eating too much tofu. Here’s a fun drawing about being vegetarian (so you don’t hate me too much for it).

Veg_ManBoobs.jpg

I’d like to point out that the vegetarian guy drawing is not a drawing of my husband. He saw this picture and was concerned that I thought he had tofu man boobs. For the record, he does NOT have tofu man boobs.

We also survived the holidays – Thanksgiving, Halloween, Christmas, and even a family reunion, all while not eating meat, which is downright humiliating in the company of family, who looked at me like I had just tucked my skirt into my underpants. We’re talking looks of disgust, as if not only my underpants were showing, but that they were also covered in prominent poop stains.

The thing that has kept us the busiest, though, was the fact that we moved across the country to Pittsburgh, PA. Yep! We packed for a month, put all our crap into moving pods, and got the heck out of Los Angeles.

Everyone knows moving is unpleasant, so I’m not going to go into the details, but let’s just say that there were a lot of panic attacks, tears, sleepless nights, early labor signs, bed-rest, toddler tantrums, vomiting, and fights with family members about a cat who shit and peed on a bed (true story not worth reliving).

Anyway, we made it out alive.

I was 9 months pregnant when we got to Pittsburgh, and spent a good part of each day feeling sorry for myself, which was a lot of fun for the whole family. I think my husband enjoyed it the most. This pretty much sums up that last month of pregnancy:

Preg_Sarah

On Friday, January 22nd, I finally popped out a baby. We named him Henry.

I would go into all the details of the labor, but honestly, I reeeeeeallly don’t want to.

Instead, I pledge to post a drawing of the moment Henry’s little head popped out of my vagina. Don’t worry, you won’t have to see anything too obscene. Maybe just a little bush…

Okaaaay, probably a lot of bush.

In the meantime, here’s a crappy baby drawing I did in one of my earlier posts, Failed Drawings Part 1: Scary Babies:

creepy baby grocery cart

 

 

 

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Boobs, Bush, and The Creative Process.

cropped-rollerbladerfinal12.jpg

“To stimulate creativity, one must develop the childlike inclination for play”

-Albert Einstein

“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.”

-Pablo Picasso

For six years, I worked at a wine bar called Lou, which is where I met my husband and my best friend B (the one who just had twins). Sadly, it closed years ago.

My poor coworkers patiently endured my quarter life crisis (aka my twenties). During that time, I was dumped by my fiancé right before our wedding, I moved apartments an average of twice a year, and I suffered form a severe case of self-hatred and self-doubt. I also kind of hated waiting tables, which didn’t always make for a pleasant work attitude. I don’t like to admit that I was pretty unhappy.

The real problem was that I was an artist who didn’t produce very much art. I was unable to tap into my creativity. I feared I had no imagination and had nothing to say.

Despite my mental and emotional problems, we all really enjoyed our time working together at the wine bar. Things were out of hand most of the time. I can’t imagine what customers must have thought of us. We gave each other a nightly shoulder massage (our boss included), scavenged scraps of farm-to-table food from the kitchen (every restaurant these days is farm-to-table), sat down with the regular customers, danced, cried, argued, and took way too many smoking breaks.

At the end of every night, our boss would subject us to strange American standards from the 60’s like My Bathroom is a Private Kind of Place and sappy tear-jerkers from the 70’s like Send in the Clowns.

One evening, at the end of my shift, I was sitting at the bar doing the close out and counting our tips, when I found myself with a serious urge to doodle something obscene. So, I utilized the only art supplies I had at the time – a tip envelope, and one of the few pens that wasn’t swiped by some thieving customer.

The first thing I drew was a naked woman roller skating, while being propelled through the air by a presumably noxious fart, with an abundance of breast milk spraying from her nipples, and a sassy turd left in her wake. I’m pretty sure the idea came from a combination of a conversation I had with my boss about making cheese from breast milk, my friend B flashing me her pubes during a girly bathroom rendezvous, and odd memories from childhood supplied directly from my subconscious.

I continued doodling every night, until it occurred to me that these weren’t just doodles. They were masterpieces. I was meant to draw boobs, bush, farts, breast milk, and poop. Is it juvenile and repulsive? Yes! Is it lady-like and feminine? Absolutely not. Is there a deeper message that I want my audience to grasp? Mmmm, I’ll just let the viewer decide.

The point is, I found a way to make art that makes me happy. I’m not constantly questioning whether it’s good or not, because it doesn’t matter. I enjoy the process.

I’m not going to act like I’m fulfilled all the time, because I’m not. It’s easy to slip into doubt, and question my self-worth as an artist. Especially since I am doing drawings that primarily consist of ladies taking a crap, and weird fat babies.

I can easily doubt my abilities as a mom too, when I’m bored out of my skull by having to hold Liam’s hands as I walk him up and down the sidewalk for the hundredth time.

Then, I surprise myself and come up with a new idea for my art, and I get to wonder where it came from…

and I notice how cute it is that when Liam practices walking, he looks like he’s drunk…and he holds my fingers so tight, they turn purple.

Headbands, Ugly High-Waisted Pants, and The Camel Toe Dilemma

trendy girl

When it comes to fashion, I’ve never been one to wear anything outlandish – excluding the time in 5th grade when I used to wear crocheted vests and Troll earrings.

I like to feel comfortable in what I’m wearing. I just make sure my stomach isn’t hanging over my pants and that I don’t have four-boob (which is the unfortunate outcome of wearing a bra that is too small for your boobs). That pretty much sums up my fashion sense these days.

As a result, I don’t follow fashion trends, but I can’t help but notice the problems there are with some of the things I see famous people wearing. I know I’m not an authority on fashion, for the reasons I just mentioned, but if you’re a discerning, shit picking person (which obviously I am), it’s easy to spot these hideous fashion trends:

1. The Headband – The one that is worn over the hair, across the forehead, and after an hour of being worn, it makes the hair poof up around the crown of the head. Please don’t do this. If you are reading this and are presently wearing one of these headbands, you must immediately remove it. No one likes this look but you. I bet if you really searched your soul, you’d find that you don’t really like it either. Maybe you started wearing it when it was more socially acceptable (the first five minutes of when the trend started – maybe not even then), and now you feel naked without it. I promise you’ll be okay.

2. The Clown Makeup – This is a pretty simple thing to avoid. Heavy eyeshadow must only be applied if being worn with a nude lip, or at least a very pale color. Same rule applies if you want to wear dark lipstick. If you are wearing dark lipstick, you have to go easy on the eyeshadow. You can’t wear dark lipstick with heavy eyeshadow, unless, you wanna be a ho or in a Robert Palmer video.

3. Pointy Witch Nails – They’re scary. Just don’t. (Unless you’re my friend whose name starts with the letter B, then it’s just mildly scary, but mostly cute).

4. The Useless Decorative Button – Unless you’re Michael Jackson, which you’re not for obviously reasons, you shouldn’t have these on any item of clothing. Only Barbie can wear decorative buttons, because if she wore real buttons, the button holes would be too small to actually be buttoned by a full sized human, or even a small child.

5. High-Waisted Pant with Midriff – Why is everyone doing this?! (JLo and Kim Kardashian) All I can think when I see this is, “why would you intentionally make yourself look like you have no torso?” Even on the most toned person, the midriff skin flap ends up hanging over the pant (the ‘s’ was left off intentionally). A high-waisted pant should only be used as a place to tuck-in your muffin top.

6. Platform Shoes – They’re ugly, even on trannies. Same goes for goths with trench coats. I might make an exception for extremely short people, because if you wore heels high enough to make you look tall, the front part of your foot would eventually go numb, and then probably break off. Nah, even you shorties. I think you should just embrace your shortness.

7. Camel Toe – I am reluctant to add this to the list of Hideous Fashion Trends because a severe camel toe can be a lot of fun, both for the presenter and for the viewer. Of course this depends on whether or not the camel toe was intentional. I think I just added it to the list because I wanted to draw a girl with camel toe. My only regret is that it’s not as severe as I had hoped.

I don’t want to be a hater. I really don’t. The thing is I have recently started watching shows like American Idol and The Bachelor, and I’d really prefer not to see anymore chicks with those headbands. It would make my viewing experience much more pleasurable. Also, my husband wouldn’t have to hear me bitch about it, although he agrees with me. That’s right! He willingly watches these shows! In his defense, they’re probably not his first choice, it’s just that I’m pretty bossy with the clicker, (to you younger folks out there, I’m referring to the remote control).

Bananas – The Worst Fruit

banana boobs final copy

Remember when you were a kid and you used to have pretend phone conversations into a banana? Those were the good ol’ days! I’m actually kind of pissed I ever switched to a real phone. It got me thinking (which ultimately made me a little depressed), about how my baby, Liam, might never talk into a banana.

A Few Reasons Liam May Never Talk into a Banana:

1. Pretend phone conversations with fruit have been replaced by the imagination-killing glow of the cell phone screen. Anytime Liam gets his hands on my iphone, he becomes irritable and obsessive. It’s actually kind of creepy. I don’t know why, but obsessive babies that have pent up anger remind me of Chucky – minus the red hair, facial scars, bad language, and propensity for violence and murder.

2. We don’t really eat bananas in our house, especially if I buy them. In fact, there are presently 6 over-ripe bananas sitting in our forgotten fruit bowl. I’ve tried to be more Pinterest-y and use over-ripe bananas for homemade banana bread, but they turn black in the fridge and then a month later, I discover them and wonder why I go through so much trouble for a fruit I kind of loathe anyway. In theory, what’s not to love? They’re convenient, healthy, sweet, fun to draw, and phallic. But the truth is that they aren’t juicy! Period! By definition, a good fruit is supposed to be juicy. They are the opposite of juicy. They actually make me thirsty. That’s reason alone not to buy them.

3. Bananas are soon going to be too expensive to buy and then become extinct. Can you imagine paying a dollar per pound for bananas?! Gross! It’s old news, but according to this article, we’re looking at only three more years of bananas.

I have endured a banana on occasion, but I have strict rules for banana consumption.

The Conditions Under Which I Will Consume a Banana:

1. Slightly under-ripe (so it’s not too mushy), sliced over cereal, with a good amount of milk. It has to be in a somewhat healthy cereal, though. Bananas look ridiculous in something like Fruity Pebbles or Lucky Charms. If you eat it in those types of cereals, you’re wrong. Also, for the record, Lucky Charms is a terrible cereal and Fruity Pebbles really shouldn’t ever be eaten, unless it’s on top of some frozen yogurt…and not just any frozen yogurt – it has to be Yogurtland.

2. In a peanut butter sandwich…again, don’t forget how un-juicy a banana is. When you pair it with peanut butter, you will desperately need something to drink. You cannot wash it down with anything other than water or milk, unless you want to be disgusting.

3. Running late for an afternoon appointment, shaking from hunger, with no time to stop for food – not even at a drive thru McDonalds or anywhere else equally as shitty…this is one of the two occasions a banana may be consumed without other food.

4. While extremely pregnant, low blood sugar, in need of potassium, with a strange craving for a banana. This is occasion number two in which a banana may be consumed without other food.

When the banana industry meets its maker, I will not mourn their absence. However, I will continue to draw ladies with banana boobs. I may not find bananas tasty, but they certainly are funny.