Here is the cat that wants to live in my mattress:

I wish she was more like this cat:


I love it.

In honor of dear Eddie, here is funny burn story. You didn't think there could be something such as that, eh? Well this is about chemical burns, which are significantly more humorous. In some cases.

So I like to do printmaking. I can't do it now because i can't afford (nor do i have a place to put) a 2,000 pound press. But i liked to do at college, where you know, they cleaned up after you and bought the right supplies and where you could be all artsily existential and receive unwarranted praise by your peers (just because they were lonely and wanted new friends). the good life. I always left doing projects until the last minute, which meant i was up until 7 or 8 the next morning finishing stuff right before it was due. this was usually a really bad plan, because I would become all disoriented and forgetful and clumsy after even a couple hours. (actually i am like that usually. why do i live?) well once this behavious resulted in me nearly slicing my index finger off with an exacto knife. But the other time, this resulted in CLAWS!!!!!

so we were doing intaglio prints, which meant oil-based ink, and oil-based ink has to be cleaned off NOT with water, but with chemical fun. Mineral spirits (turpentine?) and rubbing alcohol. the whole time you do intaglio prints, you should be wearing rubber gloves to keep the chemicals away. however, you have to clean your plate everytime you finish a print, so the ink doesn't get all glopped up on it. and if you get the cleaning chemicals on your gloves, they mix with your ink, and your print comes out bad. normal people have separate gloves for cleaning and separate gloves for printing. well, by about 2 AM, i decided that cleaning really didn't warrant the use of gloves. by about 3 AM, i was tired of scrubbing ink off of my hands with pumice wash. Hey, the chemicals clean the ink off my plate, won't they clean it off my hands? This seemed like a good plan. Of course, after washing my hands with mineral spirits and alcohol about 20 times, something began to change: my hands became immobile bright red burning CLAWS.

So eventually I was scared that my hands would stay that way forever, and I went to the nurse at 10 AM. When i told her what had happened, I was all "OH! of course i wore gloves, but the chemicals must have gotten in somehow" cause i didn't want her to think i was all dumb. she gave me some ointment that i slathered onto them, and i fell asleep in my bed with my arms propped above my head. by the next week, they were sort of back to normal again.

that was a lot of reading for nothing, wasn't it.

I am seeing Le Tigre tonite. there was a horrible girl at my school who always pronounced it "le teeGRAY" which annoyed the shit out of me. THIS AIN'T SPANISH, HONEY. LEARN SOME FRENCH, YOU IMBECILIC AMERICAN!!!! I saw Kathleen Hannah at a car service place in Williamsburg, only i did not realize it was her. We had just gone to Luxx for gay night by accident, where they were playing this really cool song that went "I AM LEGENDARY YOU ARE NOT" over and over, in a snobby robotic gay way. The DJ was cute with little glasses. Williamsburg is the home to one of my favorite sushis, which contains tempura shrimp, spicy tuna, and BANANA!!!!! it is so good.

anyway, misha is back probably right now, which is lovely. i have been working like mad.