Rich People Art Project

Perhaps Bill Gates could provide the 1 billion dollars worth of funding for my new art project. I would take a large mansion and fill it with paper måché furniture slopped together by kids. I would past the tiles onto the bathroom myself, just to make it look crappy, and have guests specifically use that bathroom, because art. The rest of the mansion could be one giant iPad, where you could touch the walls for apps. My servants would creepily interject into conversations to make it clear that they’d been spying on guests all along.

Then a giant robot would come up to the rich people and pull down their pants. And I’d be sued a bunch of times, and my lawyer would show up in a Prada suit that was two inches short in all of the most awkward places.

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Date an Alcoholic.Com!

A sketch wrote by yours truly, and brought to life by many talented individuals in my community.

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The Wonder of Indie Dance

One fine day, along came indie dance music–electronic songs with throwback sounds and/or lyrics that contain actual ideas. Indie dance music, in its most pure form, exists as distilled fun. It can be found on college radio, Pandora radio, and pirate radio.

Just add a few sound waves of indie dance music, and any mundane area of life becomes exciting. Commuting home? NAWPE, you just found yourself hosting a personal party in a rotating room.

Working your part time job? No, oh no; it’s much better than that. You feel the beat, then box items in free form style.

Watching an elderly individual take a walk? You witness a dancing machine, who would blow your mind if she thought it wouldn’t flat out kill you.

Last month, in an artsy section of an artsy city, a young woman with short blonde hair spins a record to no one. No one. But the jam she plays sounds so good. Four individuals emerge from the darkness and start shaking it. Inhibitionless. Spin it.

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Novel by artificial intelligence entity, DEIRDRE™. ROMANCE NOVEL


On first social outing, humans immerse selves in hot tub filled with clear petroleum jelly.

Hand approaches unauthorized areas. No alarm system activated.

Increased lubrication via a great many pores. Pores and pores of all different sizes and varieties. Secretious substances abound.

Vertical movement observed, followed by lateral movement.

Genetic material: deployed.

Humans compare themselves to rabbits, unaware that rabbits’ increased procreation caused by 95% death rate of newborns.

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Not Too Many Kids

I have a handful of “friends” who have informed me that my family is too big, as if it’s a scientific fact. They typically say it one of these two ways: “Your parents had too many kids,” or “Your mom had too many kids.” Besides being stunningly rude, this is absolute hogwash. Those judgmental people will probably never learn half that things that people from big families learn. Personal experience and news articles tell me that:

1. We have better emotional intelligence than others. We’re more sensitive, probably from seeing lots of different people up close. We don’t see other peoples’ shit from a distance, we’re in the shit alongside them. Within my own family, I have grown up with extreme right wing views, very liberal views, artists, a politician, a medical worker, and a physical trainer. I have dealt with aggressive, soft spoken, imaginative, strict, helpful, unhelpful, strong, pleasant, bitter. To some degree, I have had a close view of the variety of life– and I’ve argued with every single one of those varieties.

2. We have spent a great deal of time with our siblings. As siblings, we actually support each other. Mom and Dad don’t act like our support machines, there to provide for absolutely every need we have. Believe me, none of us cried the first day we went to kindergarden. It was just another day, surrounded by a mob of kids.

3. We have a degree of loyalty that others do not have. I’ve heard about siblings from small families that don’t talk to each other for years. Some petty difference kept people apart. WELP, when you belong to a big family, you don’t have the privilege of holding intense grudges. Wanna know why? Because those people constantly surround you. You go to a family event, and BAM–three people who you hate are literally sharing your soda with you (we ran out of soda a half hour ago). No one can escape this large family amoeba. Probably not even death would stop it, so you might as well just deal with your stuff.

4. You learn you’re not the center of the universe. In contrast, so many people from small families find themselves endlessly interesting. I had one coworker who would meanderingly discuss what she wanted to make herself for dinner. Every. Single. Evening. It was torturous. Luckily, when you grow up with a big family and tell a boring story, someone will tell you to your face that you’re being a self-serving dullard. Everyone’s patience for others’ self-indulgence had already run out. Your s*** doesn’t smell like roses, darling. Nobody knows that like family.

5. Most families have houses that are probably quiet and well-ordered, and someone immediately freaks out when someone rearranges even a small part of it. Guess what? People that care too much about their stuff BORE EVERYONE. Welcome to a big family, where everything belongs to no one. Did you leave a bar of soap in the bathroom? Well, everyone just used it, and now it’s gone. Also, that food that you left in the fridge is gone. Deal with it. Go talk about it with one of the twenty people hanging out in the kitchen.

6. The more siblings you have, the lower chance you have of divorcing a spouse. Turns out you can get inoculated against feelings of annoyance.

Instead of assuming that my family is deficient, perhaps people should start feeling jealous of its size and wonderfulness. #realfamilieshavecurves

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I Dream of Simple

When I planned this wedding, I knew that I needed Mason jars–beautiful, simple, non-wasteful. I dreamt of those jars. Cosmopolitan’s wedding magazine, “Locked Down,” had a five-page spread about Mason jars.

Of course, I purchased them, but that didn’t mean that the planning was done. We still had so many things to do in order to achieve a tastefully simple wedding. There was the color palette, the sub-color palette, the guests, and the sub-guests. At least in terms of food, the decision was easy; “Locked Down” featured a picture of a lobster in a wedding girdle, and I knew that I needed it, our guests needed it.

I ordered that lobster. Sometimes, you just have to follow your dreams. I dream of simple. A beautifully planned party beneath a summer sky–what could be less complicated than that?

Perhaps eloping.

In any case, we sent out invitations made of thrice-recycled paper, and most everyone responded. A couple of friends completely ignored the wedding check boxes, and instead drew a picture of themselves eating corn. I knew that meant ‘yes’, and also, ‘would you please serve us corn at your wedding.’ And yes, we accommodated them, somewhat gladly.

In any case, the actual day was a blur. It was literally a blur, because it started to rain, and all of our beautiful chalk drawings ran. Also, someone left our tiered wedding cake outside. In effect, the rain upon the frosting only served to streamline the look of the cake, which my husband and I preferred. When the reception had petered out, we had our DJ spin Willie Nelson as a polite way of asking everyone to leave.

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The Old Guitarist

Dear 70% of People Who Own The Old Guitarist;

This particular Picasso is not meant to be displayed horizontally. This old, suffering man playing guitar is not sitting on his couch, enjoying some doritos while strumming some chords. He didn’t just recline against a pile of pillows and pick up his head so he could keep an eye on “America’s Got Talent.” The man didn’t just take off his shoes because it made him ‘feel more free’ during his jam sesh.

Instead, the painting is displayed vertically. The subject is hunched over his guitar, neck sharply craned. The neck angle alone should give you a hint. Would a happy person slump over like a 2 legged stool, with the weight of sheer misery pulling him toward the ground? Certainly, the old guitarist didn’t purchase his shirt pre-ripped from Urban Outfitters; Picasso wished to express the subtle concept of not having enough money to buy another shirt.

So it turns out your painting was less “coolest guy in your college dorm” and more “that guy you pretend not to see when you walk to work.”

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