Ross is such a big baby. Every time I see him he just complains about stuff for so long until I have to punch him right in his nose to make him stop. That or his delicate sinus system can't handle plummeting altitude change coupled with the blood thinning effects of alcohol. That bloody nose of his became borderline biblical. Look at all that Ross blood. We couldn't get it out of our kitchen tile grout for WEEKS. All this bloody excitement got me thinking about taking a lot of pictures of injured things, like my messed up hand. But then I ran out of injured/bloody things to photograph, had to work a bunch, and the idea fell to the wayside.
Started my last college class. It's basically beginning drawing and beginning painting wedged into one class. The puttering old man teaching the class takes too long to complete even the simplest acts of instruction, but he is very nice and he does get the point across, eventually. Drew them friendly men on the butcher paper that was on the tables in our class room, the idea was lifted more or less from one of David Firth's Jerry Jackson videos.
IN OTHER NEWS, there is none. Burger receipt has made its way through many thousands of pages. It's been my bookmark for Neal Stephenson's Baroque Cycle, currently residing a bit more than halfway through the third and final volume. The bookmarks blunt and dirty character has become particularly enjoyable over the course of its use.
