Supertrash

This weekend Night Gallery, Floating World Comics and the Bagdad Theater are presenting Supertrash, a Film Festival with 9 cult films, burlesque dancers, and Fantagraphics is presenting an exhibit of re-imagined movie poster art.

Artists picked their favorite cult/trash movie and recreated a movie poster for it. The art will line the walls of The Bagdad .

Here’s the poster I created for the show:

 

Be sure to check it out if you can. The show starts Friday, Feb 1st at 5:30pm and ends on Sunday.

More details here: Supertrash

And, while you’re in the art walk mood, head over to Bite Studio, for Love In Print, and check out “The Struggle” screenprint. That show also starts on Friday, Feb. 1st. The show is from 6 – 10 PM.

Splendora

I was looking through a sketchbook and found this one:

 

It probably requires a story for clarity.

Over a year ago, (December 9, 2006 to be exact) I went to Mississippi Pizza, with some friends, to check out the first annual Queer Quistmas. What is a Queer Quistmas? I have no idea. Perhaps it’s a drag show with a Christmas theme. I don’t know. There’s performance art, stories, singing, and queers.

Before this trip, I was hanging out on Division, at the (smoke infested) E Room. I had never been, and I was told I should go, so I went, and later on I was told I should not have gone, and should never return… It was at the E Room, where I had one too many rum and cokes, which is why the rest of the night is a big blur. Actually, I only had two, but my second rum and coke had more rum than coke. I was advised, by a girl in my party, to order a coke. So, I went up to the bar and asked for a coke. When I returned, she poured half my coke in to an empty cup and told me, and another friend, to follow her. Being the naive child that I am, I had no clue what was going on. We walked into the non-gender specific bathroom and locked the door behind us. Inside the seedy space, she pulled out a plastic bottle of Schweppes’ ginger ale. Soon I found out that the content of that green bottle was not ginger ale, but rum. We held out our glasses of coke, and one by one, she filled them up to the rims with rum. I’m pretty sure there was more rum than coke in those glasses. Before screwing the lid back on, she took one big swig from the bottle and afterwards, she unlatched the door, and we found our way back to the table. When we finished our drinks we decided it was time to move on to the next event. When I stood up, I realized just how drunk I was.

This brings us to a Queer Quistmas. When we arrived, the show had already begun. Splendora, the hostess of the show, was on stage. I don’t recall what was being said. I remember being squished between the girl with the ginger ale bottle and some girl named Debbie. My head was spinning and someone was handing me a chocolate cake shot. So, because I suffered from memory loss that night, here are the things I do remember (in no particular order):

1. Splendora read to us (the adult audience) as if we were 1st graders, a “sexy rendition” of “Twas the Night Before Christmas”. There was a lot of laughter in the crowd, probably from the sexy jokes that I don’t remember. I didn’t laugh because I was incoherent.
2. Someone dressed up like Freddie Mercury came on stage to sing. At first, I actually thought it was Freddie, but then I took a moment and said to myself, “Oh, yeah, that’s right, he died.” But, I give the performer two enthusiastic thumbs up for his costume and performance. He was sportin’ the white jeans, Adidas superstars, the wife beater, exposed hairy chest, mustache, and he even had the microphone attached to half of the microphone stand. Impressive.
3. Splendora sang that song in Annie, called “Little Girls.” I really, really wanted her to do it with the hiccups like Carol Burnett did it in the 1982 musical film, but she didn’t.
4. The girl with the rum whispered profanity into my ear
5. Just Say No to Rum & Coke

Sieben Inspired

I think I had just looked at some art by Michael Sieben before I drew this one.

Guitar & Amp

Customers Are Not Always Right

Here’s a conversation I had with an asshole—I mean customer yesterday, at work.

SCENE: At the cash register. I was finishing a transaction with a woman who could not even muster up a response to my friendly greet. Apparently, reciting the words, “I’m good” or “I feel like shit” takes a lot of work when asked, “How are you today?” When people ignore me, after I make a friendly gesture, I want to say, “Look lady/sir, it’s not my choice to say hello to you. I can tell by your demeanor that you’ve got a stick up your ass and that, whatever grief the world has set upon you today, you plan to take it out on me. Believe it or not, I’m required to say “hello” to you and ask you about your day, the day that I don’t give two shits about, because there is this slight possibility you may be a “secret shopper” and god forbid I receive a “no on greet”, on the shop. Failing a shop is worse than being a worthless employee. Hard work is actually secondary at my job. As long as you kiss ass you’re on your way to retail success.

A man stood behind the pleasant woman.

Asshole: Those are on sale (He pointed to his fruit punch and orange Gatorades.)
Me: (I tried to ignore him because he was being rude by not waiting his turn). Okay
Woman: (She looked at me perplexed. She was unable to think sensibly.)
Me: (I wondered: 1. Is she a moron who can’t figure out which way to slide her debit card, 2. Is she annoyed by the asshole behind her, who keeps rambling on about Gatorade?, or 3. Is she trying to figure out if I’m a boy or a girl?)
Asshole: They say 10 for 10. They’re a dollar each. Does it matter if they’re different ones? Is this one (he held up the orange flavor) the same? Is it also 10 for $10?
Me: I don’t know. I’ll scan it and find out in just a moment.
Asshole: (He staired at me blankly. He was shocked I didn’t know the price.)
Me: I don’t know. I don’t know the price off the top of my head.

SIDENOTE: Do people actually expect us to memorize the price of every item in the store? Do they know how many items are on each shelf? There are like, 13 aisles, not counting departments. And I’m supposed to know every price? Do they know every week we have price changes? Which, by the way, while I’m on the topic of price changes, let me inform you on something. When you go into a store, and don’t see a price tag for an item, please don’t assume the employees are ganging up against you, deliberately taking the tag off the shelf because the item is so astronomically overpriced we’re just afraid to inform you of the real price because we’re worried you’ll leave and never come back again, or because it’s apart of our sleazy scheme to try and trick you into buying something you can’t afford. Why, as an employee of a greedy corporation, would I care to deceive customers about the price of a product? I don’t even care if you shop at my place of work. I don’t even shop there. If a tag is missing it’s because file maintenance never got around to hanging up a new tag because they have a million items to get to in the course of 8 hours. Or, maybe the tag fell off the shelf because the tape on the back of the tag wasn’t sticky enough.

SCENE: The woman left. The asshole stepped up.

Asshole: Do those ring up as 10 for 10?
Me: (I wanted to say: Give me just one damn minute to scan it and we’ll find out together.)
Asshole: I’ll go back and switch it if the orange one isn’t 10 for 10.
Me: (I scanned the fruit punch flavored Gatorade. It rung up as $1.69.) That one isn’t on sell.
Asshole: Oh, that one is the fruit punch. I’ll go back and get another cherry. The cherry is 10 for $10. It says so on the tag. It says it.
Me: (I scanned the cherry flavored Gatorade.) That one isn’t on sale either. It’s also $1.69. (I wasn’t surprised.)
Asshole: (He was visibly distressed). The sign said 10 for 10. (His voice raised) That’s supposed to be one dollar!

I was prepared for his accusations about false advertising, the “computer” (register) “ringing it up wrong”, or some other bogus bullshit indictment that he couldn’t back up with valid support.

Clearly, at this point, it’s already my fault. I think the growing line of people behind him blamed me too, because you know, the customer is always right and all that horse shit. Even though I work at the store and…well—whatever, they’re always right. They’re geniuses. What do I know?

Me: (I was exhausted and already over it) I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go check the price.
Asshole: (He babbled on some more about 10 for 10 and Gatorade. I couldn’t make out his words. He started to trail off. He began to shift his body with discomfort. Soon he’d express his rage and fury with long, exaggerated sighs and immature insults. If there were no consequences of getting kicked out of the store, he probably would have broke some shit. People like him don’t really care about making a scene. I personally would be embarrassed, but they’re so cocky, and sure of themselves they don’t mind being loud, opinionated, and boisterous in front of others. It’s incomprehensible for them to think how silly it is to overact over something as minute as Gatorade. The price difference was 69 cents. 69 cents! Why did it have to turn into a mini non-carbonated sports drink crisis?

I took a jaunt to the juice aisle where I found the Gatorade. In my head, I was hoping he was wrong because I love proving assholes wrong. Yep, there it was, the Gatorade he selected. The tag, which was directly under the product read: $1.69. Exactly what I suspected. A foot to the left were two tags that said 10 for $10. The tags were underneath the Gatorade G2. G2 is the key word here. It’s a different kind of Gatorade and a different size. The Gatorade G2 was not even remotely close to the regular Gatorade. (Sometimes) I can understand when people mistake the price for products when they sit next to each other, but those drinks were far apart. He was either a complete dumb shit or he was trying to scam me.

I grabbed the G2 for proof that I didn’t make it up. I always need something tangible. I know customers. They won’t believe me unless I present them with a visual. 99% of the time they still don’t believe me because they’re stubborn and can’t admit they’re wrong. You wouldn’t believe how much denial people go into when I show them the tag. I take them to the aisle and point. I say, “Look, right here, see it? You want to touch it and make sure it’s real?” They’re still baffled. Their mind is a roller coaster of mixed emotions. I’m sure they’re thinking, “What? I’m wrong? That can’t be! I’m always right. I’m a human being. I’m incapable of fault. I think an extraterrestrial snuck in here and changed the tags. It’s the only solid explanation I’m able to form. I’m just…I’m just flabbergasted. If Robert Stack was still alive I’d submit this paranormal phenomena to Unsolved Mysteries.”

I walked back to the register, but for the sake of the story, pretend I’m skipping with a big swirly lollipop in my head, wearing pig tales and a little bo-peep dress, happy and blissful for my defeat of the asshole.

I appeared back to my check stand, hair windblown from the mini jog, and slightly winded because I don’t exercise.

Me: (I was confident and in high spirits) The sign for those say $1.69. All of the Gatorades are $1.69. You were looking at the Gatorade G2, which is 10 for $10. (I showed him the G2 like one of Barker’s Beauties, showing off an appliance, on The Price Is Right.)

Asshole: (He was slightly bewildered and exasperated) No, those said 10 for 10. They say so right on the tag, in the back.
Me: No, the tag for the Gatorade says $1.69. The tag that says 10 for $10 is for the Gatorade G2, which is this (I held up the drink again).
Asshole: (He shook his head. I could tell he hated being wrong and was trying so hard to think of some excuse to prove he was right) I saw it on the tag. It said $1.00 each.
Me: No, it doesn’t. Do you want me to take you to the aisle, and show you on the shelf where it says $1.69? They’re not even next to each other. It clearly says $1.69 for these Gatorades (I moved my hand in a circlular motion above the Gatorades that he assured me cost a buck) and these Gatorade G2s are 10 for $10. I’ll go show you if you want, and point out where the price is. The tags are right under the product.
Asshole: (He knew he lost the battle). Take ‘em off. This is ridiculous. (I was surprised he didn’t say, “I’m never shopping here again.” Just because he didn’t know how to act like a civilized adult and accept the fact that he, the customer, was wrong and I, the employee, was right.)
Me: (I voided his Gatorades) The total is $…..
Asshole: (He was pissed off and infuriated) What?! Why didn’t you put the others (Gatorade G2) on there?
Me: Because you didn’t tell me to. You want those?
Asshole: Yeah, I want those. If I can’t have the other ones.
Me: Well, you never told me to add them on. You just told me to take off the others.
Asshole: (He walked away from the check stand) I’m gonna pick up my other two.
Me: Make sure you get the right ones. The regular Gatorades aren’t on sell.

I wanted to send the courtesy clerk to spy on him because I didn’t trust him.

Above is a drawing of the Asshole and his cherry gatorade

Stay Tuned…

…For the Novelty Knees post, tonight at 6 (or later…)

Drawing and story on it’s way.

Art Star

If you’ve ever had to take an art class, or have ever attended art school, then you have probably encountered the most annoying breed of all human kind, art stars.

Art Stars are bad “artists”. They’re douche bags. They’re the kids who wear their pants, smeared (deliberately) with paints, every where they go because they want the world to know they’re an “artist”. They think after they graduate they’ll “make it”, but they won’t “make it” because in the real world you need talent. They don’t have talent, but they would never know this because their art teachers tell them “good job” instead of providing constructive criticism. They’re the student who *puts a tampon in a teacup, claim it’s a “sculpture”, and title it “Tangerine Amoeba Apartheid Heart Beat IV.”

* Mentioned in Daniel Clowes’ Art School Confidential (20th Century Eightball)

She likes to wear a little bit of something from each decade

New Post To Come

There are two things I have observed with this blog:

1. I get most views during the weekday. I assume most of you have jobs with computers. When you have no work to do, or you choose not to do your work, you check your e-mails, your myspace, random website, etc… My blog falls under the “random websites” category. So, today I’m gonna get more views than yesterday.

2. When I skip a day or a couple days…a month, you give up on this blog and the number of views decrease.

With all that said, I have no new post at this moment. It’s Monday, you want something new to set your eyes upon, and I have nothing for you. I have a job I have to go to, a job where I don’t have a computer. I do manual labor. I have to stock the tables with your fruits and veggies. Someone has to do it. I don’t want you all to starve. So, you may not have anything new to look at today at work, but tomorrow you will. I’ll post something tonight, when I get off work.  So, don’t give up on me. Come back again tomorrow…or maybe later tonight (look at me on your home computer).

Your Friend for Life,

Erin

Circa 2003 (i think)

from an old sketchbook

Enjoying A Beer

He just got laid off from his job.