Veni, Vidi, Ventus --
The randomly chaotic and crafty scribblings of a deranged, wannabe artist allowed too many colours in her Crayon box.

Surgeon General's Warning: Some content of "From Pooka's Crayon" may not be suitable for: work, blue-haired little old ladies, the politically-correct, rabid moonbats, uptight mothers, priests, chronic idiots, insurance claims agents, Democrats, children, small furry quadropeds from Alpha Centauri, or your sanity.

Tuesday, August 13, 2002


You know your fever is going up when ....

... your food has tracers.

... you find yourself dancing to the end-theme to Daria -- after the credits are over.

... "it wasn't that kind of goat" sends you into what should be helpless giggles, only it comes out in a strangled pathetic croak and scares off the cat.

... what was I saying?

... you STILL don't understand the whole "men in feather boas" thing.

... there is this ... thing ... in your face, and you can't quite figure it out and it won't go away and you swat at it but it doesn't move and it's in your face and won't go away and you move and it moves and you dodge and it dodges and you swing at it and it's still there and so you try to yank it away AND SONOFABITCH THAT WAS MY HAIR AND THAT HURT!!!!!!

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