Friday, December 30, 2011

The perfect guy.

I want a weird guy, but not in the creepy way.  He is unconventional.  Someone who isn't stingy with his music, and likes to share his new favorite bands.  He is fun to go to shows with, meaning that he dances.  He dances.  We can go to the club and dance.  Maybe he plays an instrument.  He has gorgeous eyes.  He wouldn't mind going to spooky haunted places with me.  He is interested in the supernatural and maybe grotesque things.  He likes cooking.  He likes eating and trying different dishes.  He knows what's going on in sports, even though I know nothing.  He appreciates nature and walking in the woods.  He tries to buy fair trade/organic products.  Someone who likes to walk around the city, and people watch.  He drinks tea.  He is taller than me, because I am short.  He must initiate to hug me first because he's the taller one.  Maybe he has a blog.  He is good with computers.  He can fix my laptop when I need it because technology hates me.  He's most comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt, but when he wants to look nice, he is good at it.  He is funny in the way that I am funny.  We can laugh together.  We might have a lot of inside jokes.  He cuts his nails regularly.  He knows wine.  Maybe he makes his own wine, beer, or some kind of beverage.  He wants to be a dad.  He thinks it's okay to spank a misbehaving kid every once in awhile.  He likes art, knows a bit of history, and likes going to museums.  He is well-rounded.  He can speak and write well.  He is spiritual somewhat, but non-religious.  He doesn't smoke cigarettes, but he likes to hookah.  He's past (or mostly past) the druggie experimental phase.  He's down to earth.  He's actually nice.  He's actually kind.  Someone with a good heart.  He would like watching movies.  The popcorn flicks, and the strange foreign stuff.  He likes documentaries.  He wouldn't mind seeing a play, musical, ballet, or opera sometimes either.  He has good taste.  He reads, and he likes to read literature.  He works out occasionally, but nothing obsessive.  He likes animals, or at least, cats.  Maybe would like to get a dog.  He values a good family life.  He respects his parents.  He doesn't mind piercings.  He is smart and ambitious.  He is college educated and has a job.  He's good at math.  He can budget finances, and knows when to be frugal.  He is open-minded.  He is loyal in a relationship.  He would want a serious relationship, and dates with the potential to marry.  He is not cheesy, but he does enjoy spooning.  He's not afraid of commitment.  He's in tune with his feelings and intuition.  He stands up for himself, even though he may not like to be the center of attention all the time.  He is sensitive to the feelings of others around him.  He is understanding of people.  He is forgiving.  He likes building things, but he doesn't have to be good at it.  He is idealistic and rational.  He would be prepared to encounter my irrational defense mechanisms.  He is somewhat aggressive.  He writes out text messages.  He's good at checking up on me via text.  He would be an amazing kisser and snuggler.  He would have a steady sounding voice.  He would wait a long time to drop the L-bomb.  He would like traveling.  He would have friends, who aren't douchebags.  He could meet my friends without it being awkward.  He would be trustworthy.  He would want to talk about things.  This would be the perfect guy.

There's a straw for this kind of thing

1.  Ginger ale-- Woke up with a tummy ache.  I have enough stomach problems, that this would be incentive enough.

Ginger.

2.  Cream limoncello-- I'm not exactly set on this recipe, but my friend's fiance was giving me advice to regular limoncello and I'm looking into making cream limoncello, (perhaps, I will try arancello eventually).  We picked up my bridesmaid's dress yesterday in Jersey, and stopped by a liquor store for everclear (they don't sell it in PA, lamesauce).  He told me it takes six weeks to make his version of limoncello.

Lemon battery.

3.  Bloody mary-- I was on a flight from Rome to Frankfurt.  The flight attendant gave me salt and pepper for my tomato juice.  I thought this was so weird... but like a delicious gateway into the realm of things made with tomato juice.

The urban legend kind.

4.  Root beer float-- I've never had a root beer float.  Yes, I am ashamed.  I've had coke floats, but never a root beer one.

Since 1904!

5.  Root beer--  According to the website, "In 1960 the FDA outlawed sassafras because it contains safrole, which was proven to cause cancer in lab rats.  The primaryelement in the root beer flavor today is wintergreen."

http://archive.worldhistoria.com/  I skimmed this archive of a history forum... Some interesting things.

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Approaching the age of 25...

Enough of my friends are approaching the age of 25 that when we end up having too much to drink we end up getting serious and talking about the future (not the imaginary future that we came up with on high school career counseling day, but the "actual" impending future).  Normally, this doesn't freak me out since I've got enough plans for myself.  When I'm with other females, I can't normally take the mid-20's freak out as seriously.  I assume that it's the nesting phase talking again.  After all, I'm the one who's always saying, "Guys, we are living into our 80s nowadays, let's reassess our anxiety."  But I guess, for women, our reproductive organs do have a timeline so I don't blame any of us who want to be mommies one day for the occasional freak out.  So when on Christmas I was Hoegaarden/Heineken/Yeungling-guzzling with my guy friends and the banter got serious, I was a little taken aback.  Okay, fiiiiine…. like lots taken aback.

One of my friends getting his PhD was explaining how he couldn't afford to get his girlfriend a ring in the next four years while he is living off stipends.  Another one admitted to a dilemma; he has a degree and wants to continue his education and become an attorney, but he has a girlfriend who is very traditional and wants to get married right away after she's done school.  Someone else was having a bout of relationship problems, and was ultimately trying to decide whether he could see himself proposing to this girl or not.  Folks, it appears that we are approaching this time of our lives.

I mean, I saw it coming… But did I really SEE it?  If this love/beast-themed blog hasn’t given you the hint, that I am somewhat a romantic, then I should inform you: I have tons of romantic garbage in my head.  I totally fantasize about my partner-in-crime: companion, lover, and hardcore snuggler.  Over the summer, I went to get my palm read by the lady on 5th & South, (I could go on about my interest in psychic phenomenon/aliens/ghosties, but maybe in another post?), and she called me out on my fluffy brain.  She told me I was “looking for a husband,” not a boyfriend.  My eyes must’ve twinkled at her mention of relationships.  Whatever.  She caught me.  Call it gypsy magic, call it reading body language.

I’ve tried the casual thing.  I hate it.  I don’t understand how people can go months “hooking up,” “hanging out,” or any other euphemism for getting more than friendly without ever bringing up the possibility of maybe having a future together.  It’s just not my style.  I hate wasting time, and I don’t want to waste someone else’s.  I’m sure other people can do the casual thing.  It’s definitely more convenient, if it doesn’t work out, no one has to know it ever happened.  But with all the benefits, I know I am not programmed for it.  That was the problem when I experimented with that sort of thinking, it’s not my kind of thinking.  I am pretending.  I push the “I’m young” angle way too much, for someone who actually believes it.  There were times when I couldn’t believe the stuff that was coming out of my mouth… ugh.  I felt like an emotional invalid.

Whether or not my anxiety is premature, I have a vision.  I want to fall in love with someone as ambitious as I am.  I want to clap the loudest when he gets a promotion/accolade/a new haircut (?!), and I want to know who’s clapping the loudest whenever I accomplish something.  This someone will want to raise a family.  (Note:  There is nothing more heartbreaking to me than a guy who says that he doesn’t want kids.)  Someone who is smart and charming and will be a good dad.  Someone who believes in kindness and following his heart.  I want someone silly and unconventionally good-looking.  I want to have a great time wherever we go, whether it’s dancing crazy at a show or sitting at home watching movie after movie drinking wine out of plastic cups.  Then one day when we’re old and laying under our electric blanket together, we can look back on the years we’ve had together, all the sacrifices we’ve made, and still, never think to change a thing.  (My friend told me he thought I should make a list of the things I want in a partner.  While this isn’t the list, my friend’s suggestion is responsible for this bit of the post.)  I used to be weird for thinking about the future like this, but now, it’s okay.  I’m not the only one.  That’s the weird part.  This is the time when we’re thinking of these things to ensure perfect bliss in the decades to come. 

I went to Christmas service with my family.  Afterwards a friend of the family approached us to wish us a “Merry Christmas!” and introduced me (we’ve already been “introduced” many times) to her son.  He’s about to finish law school, and well, his mother is freaking out.  She had the mercy to be a bit subtle about it, but the look of discomfort on his face...  I can’t be the only one she has tried to pull the love-connection with.  He’s probably been through this enough times with other acquaintances his mother finds to be acceptable wifey material.  I went home, and told my mother how awkward it was to be treated like cattle.  Instead of being any kind of sympathetic, she said, “Maybe, hopefully, it will be you two.  They’re a good family.  You come from a good family.”  I was dumbfounded.  How long before my mother meddles?  Who else is placing bets on my uterus?  After some prying, my mother admitted that there are some other ladies waiting for me to graduate so they can toss me around, and perhaps I just might stick somewhere…

The pressure is on.  But the pressure is taking the magic away.  My friend said the most logical way he sees a relationship working out is if two people are trying to accomplish their own goals, and they can benefit from a mutual support system.  Is this what we’re grappling for?  A support system.  This makes sense to me.  Goals also make sense to me.  I’m not sure if turning a person into a goal makes any sense though.  I always imagine that I would stumble upon a great guy who I just clicked with, somehow it would be the right place and right time, and if it wasn’t, we will click enough that we’d make it the right time and place…  I must be na├»ve.

We’re starting to date with the goal in mind to not die alone, as opposed to fill our Friday nights.  And now, even our mothers know it.

Celebrity Martyrs.

At the Final Show.  Artturome.blogspot.com


Working from collage. 2011. Uban.




(Final state). Oil on canvas.  2011. Uban.

(First state).  Oil on canvas.  In the studio. 2011. Uban.

artturome.blogspot.com

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Friday, December 23, 2011

Mandala.

Life is strange sometimes.  Sometimes it is scary too.

I want to learn how to tell people how much they mean to me before it's too late, and they're gone.  Even if it wasn't meant to be, or even if shit gets fucked up, or even if we're human and we're just going to die anyway. I want to be able to tell everyone that I care about them and I worry about them and I like them because they are participating in my universe.  I want everyone to know that no matter how long it's been I still think about them from time to time, and I hope the Universe takes care of them and gets them where they need to go.



I put my faith into the power of the Universe.
How to draw a mandala.  Not exactly difficult, but if you need a walk through.  This gots yo back.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

FML. on a train.

My flight to Rome gets cancelled because it was snowing in Memmigen.  I have to take an 11 hr train from Munich to Rome to get there early enough.  I was in a train compartment by myself, and then a girl who was some kind of ambiguous asian and spoke minimal english came in.  We closed the compartment door and decided to get some sleep.  Then a few stops later, three men get on the train, a bald shady looking Italian, an ambiguous european, and a younger Italian with headphones.  The bald Italian says, "Posto? Posto?"  He sits down.  The ambiguous European leaves the car after some stops.  So most of us end up falling asleep.  The asian girl was like completely passed out with her mouth open.  I'm somewhere in dream land, when I feel a dark shape in front of me.  I scream "Hey!" and open my eyes.  Next to me is a big African man in one of those shiny bubble jackets.  I'm confused, thinking "where did this guy come from?"  He looks confused.  The train is very dark.  I look to my purse which he's holding.  Everyone in the train looks at me.  They must think I had a bad dream.  Because the asian girl and the younger italian go back to sleep.  I am frozen.  Paralyzed.  The bald Italian guy has eyes that know something.  He looks mad, and not just because I woke him up.  Then the big African guy says something in Italian to the creepy bald Italian.  The big African guy runs out of the train compartment and leaves the door open.  The bald Italian goes after him.  There must've been more of their men on the train.  They open a window in the train car and stand by the open door of my compartment.  I'm still frozen.  It's about 5 am.  Everyone is asleep in their own compartments.  I want a conductor to come by so bad, but one never comes.  I have no idea whether they want to dangle me out of the window or if they're just feeling warm and trying to catch a breeze.  I take a moment to check for the most important things in my purse.  Still there are my passport and credit cards.  Instead the bald Italian closes the window and comes back into the compartment and he sits.  He closes the door and shuts the shades.  They're looking at me.  The big African guy is standing outside the compartment now.  Occasionally he knocks on the door signaling the bald Italian.  The bald Italian occasionally stands up.  He pretends to go to sleep.  At times he hides parts of his face when I stare directly at him.  But in the window I can see his reflection and how he's staring at me.  I still have no idea what to do. I press buttons on my alarm clock thats sitting on the table.  It's weird, but this gesture seems to confuse him.  There is an asian girl asleep in front of me.  I want to protect her, but I have no idea what to do.  Then the younger Italian guy apparently wakes up, and he leans all the way forward.  He's staring at me too.  He stares at the asian girl, and then back at me.  I realize he was in cahoots with the other two guys the whole time.  This continues for about 45 minutes until we reach the station Firenze SMN.  They exit the compartment facing me and their backs turned to the door.  The younger Italian guy exits last and looks back at me and says, "Ciao!"  I tell the asian girl to turn on the lights and to check her shit for anything missing.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Call/At Night/For Something Beautiful

Uban 2011.

Uban 2011.

Uban 2011.

Semester's over.  Final crit tomorrow and Wednesday...  I fall back into text based stuff.  Go figure... :o/ From my sketchbook then manipulated, etc.

Probably also related to my Love Letter to Paul Thek and my post about A Softer World.

Pictures in Bed

I found this cool project called "Pictures in Bed."  As it reads, it's a series of portraits of people in bed by Jacob Pritchard.  I actually played a few games of Kings with a group of friends last weekend, and someone made up a rule that after every sentence we had to say, "In bed."
For example, "How are you in bed?"  "I am fantastic in bed."
And of course, I decided to Google image search pictures "in bed" and that's how I ended up finding that website.

My roomie, Carolyn, took this picture of me and kitty in bed in bed.   HAHAHA

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Painting Class Collages: Jacks and Rollerskate Girl + HOLLERING

Collage 1.  Computer printed images collaged on white paper.  Uban. 2011.

I made two collages at the beginning of the semester for my painting class, after my original ideas fell apart.  All the parts of the collages are of pictures I took on my walk to Temple Roma from my apartment in Piazza Barberini.  I took a lot of pictures of mannequins.  They stick men in this image have been described as jack-in-the-boxes, totem poles, heads on spits, etc.  There is something violent and eerie about the imagery, which I don't disagree with.  I was inspired by a story my friend had told me about Plato.  I actually Googled the story I was referencing, and I realized that I had been telling it all wrong.  I've decided over my winter break I'm going to make a small book inspired by this collage and the Plato story.  So it's better for me to tell it later, then everyone can consider how clever I am :oP (Just kidding, lovelies!)

Collage 2.  Computer printed images collaged on white paper.  Uban. 2011.

This was an unresolved collage.  I decided to come up with an narrative.  A Cinderella story of sorts.  Where this roller skate girl finds loses her skate.  But in the end the wrong guy finds it.

___________________________________________________________________________

Bonus Post Featurette:  HOLLERING

My friend was giving me advice on how to holler at guys based on how he hollers at girls, even though he tells me I'm technically only allowed to sit, bat my eyelashes and wait.  But because of my crazy penis envy I feel the need to aggressively holler.  I hope all my awkward dating fails put a smirk on that cynical portion of your soul.  At least then, they would be good for something other than causing me shame and regret... ahahahah

"therefore, when it comes to girls, i'm already at least interested in their personality if i'm hollering at them. lol, hollering. the selective process is pre-holler, because i start hollering after i've noticed that their interesting and not when i see them from across the room. it's sweet because you don't just try to mac on people and fail awfully, which i used to do lol"  

Thanks, Buddy.

***Also, I updated the earlier post from last week  "Series of Drawings: Pogo Was a Friend of Mine I, II, II" since  I realized how shitty the picture quality was originally.

Monday, November 28, 2011

Series of Drawings... Pogo was a Friend of Mine: I, II, III.

I made these drawings for my Advanced Drawing class earlier in the semester when asked to make 3 drawings representing our interest/style.  As I'm used to making art about relationships the subject matter deals with a guy who I was starting to get attached to, and then, as things happen things ended.


Pogo was a Friend of Mine I. Pen, pencil, marker, colored pencil, pastel on paper. Uban.  2011.

Pogo was a Friend of Mine II. Pen, pencil, marker, colored pencil, pastel on paper. Uban.  2011.

Pogo was a Friend of Mine III. Pen, pencil, marker, colored pencil, pastel on paper. Uban.  2011.

These drawings I consider portraits of that time.  One is a portrait of him as an inside joke of a serial killer clown, the other is of me as a shell of myself with a head filled with shrimp representing semen, and the last one is a portrait of half of his unborn baby as a symbolic shrimp/sperm falling out of a symbolic purple glove representing a condom.  Some people might think this is a weird, and you know what, I think it's weird too.

Related Post. (Note, the fetus. There's another drawing of a pregnant woman I haven't uploaded, but this was before shit went down. Aha.)

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Circolo degli Artisti/In God's Garden

I finished this painting for the show at the Circolo degli Artisti, which my advanced painting class was participating in.  I re-painted the face, as I had mentioned in an earlier post, and defied my painting professor who had been very critical of my inclusion of the glasses.  After it was repainted, she took back all the pressure she had put on me to remove them.  We had a good laugh at critique.  It needs a bit of touching up to be completely finished but I'm not going to touch it again until I'm back home since I want it to be sufficiently dry for transportation.

In God's Garden. Oil on canvas.  Uban. 2011.

Front of Invitation to the show.
Back of Invitation to the Show.

Me posing with my piece in the show.  (Taken by Cheyenne Gil on Rosie Carlson's camera!)

 I had prepared the Artist Statement for this show but it ended up not getting shown with our work... Check out the artturome blog for more pics from this show.  My friend, Christina Lower, made a cute lil' video of the evening, "Take it away, Dave."  All through the night, my single declaration was, "Art is hard."  (After I consumed orange juice and gin, red and white wine, cosmopolitan, and long island iced tea,  Christina got me on a night bus, let me fall asleep on her on the bus ride back, woke me up to watch me throw up, then walked me up my five flights of stairs to my apartment, tucked me into bed, and put a glass of water on my nightstand.  She is a model friend... I, on the other hand, am a model idiot.)  All in all, it was a good time although we had a bit of rain.  We also got to meet the Cornell students participating in the show.  I'd say it was a successful night.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Inverse Operation, Meatpacking, Stigmata

Inverse Operation. Collage. 7X9 inches. 2011. Uban.

Meatpacking. Collage. 7X9 inches. 2011.  Uban.

Stigmata.  Collage. 7X9 inches. 2011.  Uban.

I really do enjoy making collages.  I've loved making them ever since I was a kid.  I made these for the postcard project for my advanced drawing class.

Here are some collages I made in a past post, "Collages. For my mother."

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Artist Statement/ List

My advanced painting professor, Susan Moore, was frank about the intimidating challenge of creating an artist statement.  So as an alternative, Moore got the idea from the work of a current grad student, Jamie Felton, that each of us would write a List.  This list would contain our goals, interests, influences, etc.  I ended up using this as an artist statement for a show at the Circolo degli Artisti a few weeks ago.  (This is the third or fourth version, since I kept writing them in random places and forgetting where they were.)

Falling in love for the first time, apprehension, analyzing intentions and behavior,  hyper-intellectualism VS hipster, one day marrying a man who will build us a house and all the furniture in it, living by the sea or a cabin in the woods or in a condo, stream of consciousness as a narrative model, a white dress of soft cotton fabric, watching DIY home improvement videos on Youtube about installing baseboard molding, (but don’t ask me how because I don’t remember, however luckily for you, there is a Youtube video for that), background, fields and fields of green, working on a watermelon farm, dirt, the smell of fresh dirt, worms in the mud after a rainstorm, the smell of tomato plants, holding hands, germs, leminiscate as a symbol of infinity, the lady in the bible who got turned into a pillar of salt, genital piercing, body modification/mutilation, linear regression, coloring books, puzzles, cooking better/eating better, the occult, the supernatural, knowing the future, intuition, Fate, going to medical school, becoming more external, making art that is more straightforward, making graphic novels, making prosthetic limbs, pop-up books, greeting cards that sing, illustrations of animals, fairy tales, romantic garbage, amoeba, parasites, the way asphalt expands in the summertime, modernism, antiques and objects with gilded edges, John Wayne Gacy Jr., the scientific names of plants, Ipomoea alba,  chiaroscuro, middleground, cross-hatching to create volume, shadows, tension, mark making, line quality, y=a +bX, time travel, mixing the color of skin tones, how fluffy and pink skin looks sometimes in Impressionist paintings, cannibalism, rose tea, what is it like for a blind person to dream?, obsessive unhealthy debilitating crushes, wallpaper design, once I Googled "how to be less awkward," alchemy, philosophy on a layman level, cysts, skin, blisters, scabs, pores, amputees, war veterans, the smell of nursing homes and Jell-o, the human brain, pineal gland, the human heart, visceral forms, forgetting song lyrics, ultramarine from lapis lazuli, mummy brown paint, charlene brown paint, falling in love for the second time, arbitrarily assigning percentages to my preferences, I like liverwurst on my sandwiches 42% of the time, when my glasses fog up from kissing, when my glasses fog up from the steam of hot soup, innuendos, how we're different, how we're the same, potential, possibility, white wine, I wish my family knew how much I love them, foreground, dogma in religion, shame, all the agnostics who come out of catholic school, martyred saints, holy angels, being first generation Filipino-American, the humiliation of assimilation, Allen Ginsberg's "Howl," my childhood home was a townhouse with a red roof, drapery, Mandelbrot Set, e.g. of a fractal is broccoli, falling in love for the third time, thunderstorms, entropy, the logic of language, the etymology of words, falling in love for the (...) time, dying young/dying old

8 Meters of Rome

Official Poster for the 2011 Show "8 Meters of Rome."
My advanced drawing class had the opportunity to work with Italian artist, animator and cartoonist, Marco Raparelli, (unfortunately his official site seems to be under construction).  I enjoyed working with him, there was a bit of a language barrier, but that didn't deter me from prying into his art life.  His work and my work share similar themes, something like a cute but sinister darkly humorous personal reconstruction of how we see humanity but not trying to change the way people are at the same time.  Marco doesn't particularly like to call his work "romantic," but it was evident that love has important place in his range of subjects.
The artists, Marco, and Professore Roberto.

The showed opened and was called "8 Meters of Rome."  I honestly felt good about the work I presented, but I had a distinctly similar style to Raparelli's that I was able to invoke for this project.  The space presented 2 4 meter works by students (8 meters per student).  It was very nicely present.  However, I was a bit underwhelmed by the lack of conformity between work in the technical aspect.  In the diversity of styles, I enjoyed seeing how each of our experiences studying in Rome overlapped.  Perhaps, I am being too critical of a student show, but I was a bit embarrassed when one of the faculty members who was in charge of curating the show, commented that another show, "Works in Paper", (my work was also in this show), hung in the upstairs gallery had much stronger work.  I guess I find it difficult not to judge harshly in a field as competitive as the art world.


Mingling at the opening.

Though the turnout was very modest, a lot of our friends came out to the show opening to show their support.      It was nice to schmooze with the grad students and faculty.  And who doesn't love a little wine and party mix?!

In progress, one of two drawings.

 Most of the pictures in this post were taken from artturome.blogspot.com.  Check it out if you're interested in seeing more of the artsy goings-on at Temple Roma without my borderline a-hole commentary!

Personal Archive.  Detail of drawing.  Ink on paper.  Uban. 2011.

The Venice Biennale 2009

The Venice Biennale 2009

I went to the Venice Biennale 2011, and saw a lot of weird/cool things. Here is more of that kinda thing...

Venice Biennale 2011.

Venice Biennale 2011.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Me in my studio!


This picture is from the artturome blog.

Amputees.

Some drawings from my drawing class.  I've been dreaming of amputees lately....

Untitled. Ink and pencil on yellow/brown paper. 2011 Uban.

Untitled. Ink and pencil on yellow/brown paper. 2011 Uban.

Untitled. Ink and pencil on yellow/brown paper. 2011 Uban.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Survivor/Chuck Palahniuk

Survivor: A Novel


I was in Aruba on vacation with the family for the past five days.

I brought this book by Chuck Palahniuk (yes, the guy who wrote Fight Club.  yes, Fight Club was a book before it was a movie.) ended up being on OK plane read (there's a plane crash in it.  I had to put the book down when during a bout of turbulence the plane passengers all erupt simultaneously in nervous laughter.  Nice to know that if we're all headed to an untimely end, we'll be chuckling our heads off.), but a really awesome beach read.

The only problem was that it was too good,
and I ended up having nothing to read on the plane ride back to Philly except for a Skymall catalog.



My favorite item in the Sky Mall catalog.   For $115.00 you too can have your very own "Barefoot Garden Yeti"!

*****My birthday is coming up, hint hint!  Make my dreams come true!!