Hehehehe... Me? Stressed about the holidays? Not this year! Really, I'm not. I'm so relaxed I can't believe it. This year I'm going to have FUN! It's our first Christmas as a married couple, among all the other things I have to be thankful for.
I haven't been in a coma, but I have been quite busy. Both at work and at home. I don't feel like writing about what I've been busy doing because it's nothing spectacular. I've been driving, jogging, relaxing, cleaning, drawing and getting up to do it all over again and again and again. Yay. My life is infinitely fascinating, I know.
And speaking of drawing, I was gonna post the latest finished, inked drawing...

This, and one other of my finished drawings have now been sent to the wonderful lady who is going to bring them to life with color. I'm so excited to see my drawings after they've been colored by her. She is as talented with color as I am with lines.
Hmmm...what else is happenin'...
Oh yea, Ron and I went to a really bad metal show the Friday after Thanksgiving. It was at this show, amongst the usual riff-raff dressed in black with various piercings, that we decided we'd had enough of this shit. Well, Ron anyway, since he's the one who's been going to these types of shows, and many others, since before I got my period.
This particular band, called 'Down', started out as a side project of Pantera singer Phil Anselmo. Let me start off by saying I'm not a huge fan of metal. Sure, there's plenty of metal I really love and/or appreciate, but the lot of it is like a drill to my skull. So I guess this little baby of Phil's is growing. The guitarist Pepper Keenan, from another successful metal band called Corrosion of Conformity, (another of Ron's faves) is also in the band...so it's no wonder they've taken off some. I figure the fan base combines followers from the other successful bands, plus a bunch of retarded young folk who have no idea that it's all been done before. Their particular brand of trash is called 'Southern Metal'. 'Kay, whatever you say, man. Sounds like shit to me. And I thought Mike Patton was a little on the arrogant side. At least he has the right to be. Mr. Phil had quite the ego that night. I just got this feeling...like I wanted to shoot him down. Okay dude, you survived drug abuse and the bad breakup of your previous band. Wooptie-do. Get over yourself.
So first we had to wait in line for an hour with the lame fans. During that hour, I decided that I really hate lip piercings. Not just the ones around the actual lip, but the ones that are like, in the middle of the chin? OUCH. Makes you look like the hooked fish that got away. Ugh. I'm getting old. Anyway, once we finally got in we headed to the balacony, so as not to get mixed up with all the sweaty psychos when the show started. Ah, we escaped the sweaty psychos, but not the stupid ones. We sat behind a group of four made...two of the most antsy couples I've ever encountered. The fuckers couldn't stay in their seats, or row for that matter, for longer than ten minutes before one, two or three of them got up and left. Back and forth, back and forth. One of the guys, who looked to be about 40, was so very obnoxious... He had to scream, "I said GOD-DAYAM!" after every song. It took forever for the show to start. Instead of a another band opening for them, they showed us a projected film documentry. Of them. And their roots. For an hour. Yea, we got to watch several burnt performances from the 70's on film including, but not limited to, Kiss (oh dear God), Lynard Skynard and Free. These performances were interspersed with clips of the band (Down) travelling in their van, playing riffs and fucking off. Oh, to be a performer.
Anyway, we left when we realized the ear-splitting sound was not going to get any better. And of course "Oh GOD-DAYAM" boy didn't help either. So we're going to stop with the metal shows for a while...actually, shows altogether. I wouldn't mind going to a few smaller venues, but nevermind the bigger shows...unless it's Mike Patton.
Well, that entry got long. I'm gonna go now. Time to get some artichokes for din din. Later!


















