remembrance of misdeeds past

As I approach my second birthday (remember: pizzles make a great gift!), I can't help but harken back to the days of my youth, when life seemed so much more exciting. The relentless gnawing on any available flesh, the nearly weekly vet visits and emergency room trips, the long psychiatric sessions to sort out my abandonment issues...it all seemed so cosmopolitan, somehow. Thank god I haven't lost my looks, at least.

evisceration/untitled #7

In constructing this installation, my thoughts naturally first gravitated toward trying to express anger in its many manifestations, from inner turmoil at thwarted ability (in this case, the opportunity to slay a real mini-polar bear) to the outward sweep of thought-made-action. But, in considering the deeper ramifications of fear, terror-mongering (a theme I've explored in works like "Die, Squirrel, Die" and "The End of Squirrel"), frustration, and hunger, I came to see the eviscerated bear as a symbol of the complexities that blend within a post-post-modern framework and the inherent contradictions of artistic endeavor. Which, of course, is communicated through the use of the fleecy stuffing. A short forum will be held on the topic soon at the Minnehaha Dog Park, where I hope to also perform my works, "Squirrel, You Can't Escape," and "What Was That Noise?" Details to be announced.

winter, that cruel bitch

Bereft of snow in which to frolic, or poo-sicles to eat, I am left only with the unbearable chilliness of being, which comes with temperatures in the lackluster 30s. Frosty mornings rife with squirrels only comfort for so long before I take to my daybed, utterly exhausted by my own disgust and cravings for pizzles. (By the way, to the uninitiated, pizzles are dried bulls' penises that have been twisted into pleasing braid shapes. You might think I'm joking, but assure you that they're delicious.) On, harsh winter, do your worst. In my lounge chair of leather and lambswool, I laugh at you!

p.s. please send pizzles to get me through March at least.

More nauseatingly pretty pictures

Plus, the inclusion of a pink tank top. Egads.

minion's grand adventure

Against my better judgement, I signed Minion's permission slip for a weekend in Colorado. She came back with these photos, more to post soon, and claimed they were from the central and western parts of the state, although to me they look like wallpaper at a dentist's office. However, knowing the Minion has promised to see a dentist only if 4 or more of her teeth fall out at once, I can't help but think she might be telling the truth. For once.

hot dog...get it?

And here is where I would submit puns about how I'm "devoured" by love for Corey, or "eaten alive" by my fondness for how he mesmerizes me, Rasputin-like, until I'm pudding in his hands. But I won't.