Ma-ma-ma Christmas face, ma-ma Christmas face!

A Christmas miracle has happened! For the first time in about 12 years, I felt like putting up my little Christmas tree.... so I did!



This may not seem like a big deal, but my Christmas spirit was doused a long time ago, with the onset of severe and long-term family dysfunction, and I never thought it would return. But with rifts slowly healing over in my family, and wounds being patched up, the last few years have been less and less painful at Christmas. Last year I actually found myself *gasp* enjoying Christmas!?

I did think about the tree for a brief moment last year, but didn't quite have the heart to put it up. Seemed too much like a dare to Murphy's, or some other as-of-yet unnamed law (who's attributes would be "when things seem to be improving, do not question how or why, or thou shalt be punished"). So I left it up in the storage space, buried under the random odds and ends that inhabit storage spaces: bags of old clothing; craft supplies; charcoal covered newsprint pads from those life drawing classes; boxes of cassette tapes that you can't throw out even though you no longer own a tape player (ie. Wham's debut album, the complete "Cats" soundtrack, mixed tapes with titles like "Vocal Jazz and some Barbara", dozens of tapes of terrible songs written and recorded between 1989 and 1995...etc). Needless to say, much like here in this paragraph, thoughts of the little tree were soon forgotten.

This year, I attribute my dipping into the Christmas spirit to a few things:

1. Bailey's (lol, just kidding)

2. being in a loving, healthy, three year relationship after years of bad, BAD choices

3. many hours spent making adorable little Christmas crafts and ornaments with kids at the school, at my day job

4. volunteering once a month at a local seniors residence, singing oldies to many of the wonderful elderly folks who live there (This has been an experience so inspiring and rewarding, I think I will need a whole other post to talk about it. Suffice to say for now I am cooking up a night of sing-along Christmas carols on the 23rd, and can't wait-- I ordered a book called "Christmas Carols for the Autoharp" today on Amazon.ca, hope it arrives in time!)

5. diminishing fear that all the healing and growth in my family will suddenly come to a crashing, disastrous end.

6. my niece, Lexy. Since she's been around (three years on Jan 11th!), everyone just seems nicer to each other, visits are happening more frequently, people are stabbing each other in the back and going on week long, self-destructive, substance abusing benders FAR less often... everyone has either chilled out, thanks to Lexy's existence, or gotten themselves on some seriously good (prescription!) drugs. [BTW, My sister has another one on the way, a boy this time, and I can't wait to meet him. She had an ultrasound the other day, and the technician called in for backup because the little rascal appeared to be sprinting around her womb, and he/she couldn't catch a clear image of the little future Olympian. We were hoping for a laid-back, docile child, to counteract Lexy's.... erm...... let's call it strong "character" (she's an adorable little heart stealing MONSTER!!!)..... but it appears my sis will have no such luck.]

7. I'm just getting soft and gooey in my old age. Don't worry, I still hate The Santa Claus Parade and being bombarded with Christmas carols and SALE! SALE! SALE! every time I leave the house, but... I am getting older, my parents and grandparents are too, and I am becoming increasingly aware that we won't all be together forever.... Sad as that may seem, it's true for all of us. Life is long, but it doesn't last forever, so grab onto the good things, when they come around, and enjoy them! Who cares if "We Wish You A Merry Christmas" is playing again for the 17th time today (it's better than that fucking Lady Gaga and that trashy no-talent Shakira-- which bleed through the walls of our studio from the print shop up front all day long!)

Speaking of the studio, got some shows coming up you should check out:

Radiant Dark
The Interior Design Show
Come Up To My Room


Yes, it's Christmas, and I'm busy, fat and content. All is eerily, uncharacteristically well.

Happy Holidays everyone!

Ambling....

I was thinking about my various different jobs, and how strange it must seem to people around me when they ask me what i do. A new friend might ask what I do, and I'd probably answer "I'm a musician". And then later on they'd overhear me say "I'm a designer" and be confused. I do a lot of both. And I DJ on the weekends to pay for my expensive recording and making things habit.

Or they might hear me talking about my day job, which is currently assisting a college student in her field placement at a Catholic High School-- she has cerebral Palsy, and needs an extra set of hands at work. We call me "The Hands". I'd prefer "Superhands" in a Peep Show hommage... I fell into it, kicking and screaming, (like I have time for another f*cking job!) but as it turns out, I am rather enjoying it.

One of the CSWs who works at the school very confusedly asked me the other day why I was good at that job, when I was just a musician. I laughed, and gave him the "three tries at finding the right post-secondary education" spiel. He still seemed confused afterwards, but he did say "Ahhhh...." so I left it at that. He's not too clever.

I didn't go into Developmental Service Work, even though I graduated at the top of my class. It was too depressing, and music was too seductive at the time. I came home crying from my placements in the field too often. Turns out, all the families I had worked with along the way, the ones who had made me think it might be a good field for me, were just awesome anomalies. The real world was full of assholes and red tape, and obstacles that you'd kick down every day, only to find them return the next day.


Speaking of obstacles, the girl I work for (we'll call her "J") is just amazing. She has surmounted the kind of obstacles I couldn't even imagine, from learning to talk, to type, to jump an inconvenient curb in her electric wheelchair fearlessly, to laugh off abuse from a former assisstant. She has a smile that melts your heart, with dimples, to boot. I watch everyday as people's voices jump up an octave in pitch, and down a decade and a half in vocabulary as they speak to her, slowly, loudly and clearly like she's six years old. I want to punch them in the face. I urge her to fake a spasm (spasms are a regular thing with CP) and whack them in the belly "accidentally". She smiles and genuinely shrugs it off. J amazes me, and I am trying to be a little more like her.


I really have no plan for this post tonight, I just felt the need to write. Perhaps to drown out the one set of platform heels stomping impossibly off-beat above my head, to weird, random selections of the DJ at the Goth club that resides above our studio that I swear only four people ever go to. It's as silent as a ghost town during the day, but at night, they scurry out and listen to really loud, strange music that I would never have known was de rigeur in Goth circles. Yaz? Really???

Don't worry. I'll find my flow. Where was I? Oh yeah, I was talking about having so many jobs. See, it works like this: I don't want to waitress ever again. And I haven't had to for about 9 years. Waitressing also makes me want to punch people. Sometimes I still have nightmares that I'm in the weeds, and I wake up sweaty and sooooo relieved it's only a dream. The only thing I miss about waitressing was the free food and the money! And the rock solid arms.

I've been DJing now for about 16 years, and it pays quite well. Plus there are sometimes perks like VIP film festival gigs and week long gigs in Venice, Whistler or on the Baltic Sea. Haven't had one of those for a while though.... I think it's because the last time, I refused to play a song three times in one night for the woman who runs that program, and I pissed her off. She looks a lot like Geddy Lee, so she would be prone to being angry, I think.

Sometimes, I make money on the side performing with my jazz combo, but not as often as a few years ago. I realized it was not really worth it. The money I made was not worth all the time I spent arranging equipment, band, rides, etc. etc. Plus, I always would give people discounts, because it was always a friend, or a friend of a friend. And that's no way to make money. I have to stop doing that. Mike says I have to be more firm, when it comes to my time and money. It's hard though. Even when I sell stuff I've made at the studio, it feels like I'm charging too much. But I have to account for all my overhead, time, supplies, rent etc. etc. etc. I was just not made for business. I have only a creative side to my brain.


Speaking of thinking creatively, I think I might have worked out a solution to having two mistresses (design and music) successfully: You do them in blocks of time. 2 months of solid work in the design studio, day and night; no recording, no gigs. Then, 2 months of solid gigs, working at home, recording and spending time in the recording studio. That's a little harder, because in the design studio, there are no distractions, except of course, for this, procrastinating on the internet. At home (where I'm supposed to be doing other music work-- recording and programming and stuff) there are naps, kitties, treadmills, shops, cleaning out closets, arranging bookshelves....many many distractions. And the computer too.

But it's ok. It's working so far. I don't want to give either one up. I just have to do both, a bit slower than normal people. I'm a slug. Steady, and sure. I'll get there one day!

Speaking of bugs, (are slugs bugs?) the only thing that bugs me (see how I'm doing that, tying each paragraph to the last few?) (oh no wait, I used a pun! Sorry!!! So sorry! That cancels out any cleverness) is I don't like having this day job. I have a hard time convincing myself to go to work after getting home from work. And it's not like it's a long torturous day, the hours are short, and it's fun. It's the commute-- an hour and a half each way on TTC. I'm getting tons of reading and knitting done, but by the time I get home, I feel like napping, not working. Thankfully, the job is all done in April. But I will miss them :)

Wow, that's a whole lot of paragraphs for somebody with not much to say tonight. I apologize, internet, for not writing in so long, and for having nothing to say tonight. Goodnight, my three readers. Here are pictures of some of the stuff I've been working on lately...

Cowtown & Big Sky

I can't sleep, so I am going to post some photos from my recent trip to Alberta. But first, I'll share the last picture on my camera from before the trip.


I bought some Polish sausage as a thank you for Mike's boss for letting me use his shop (and his paint guy) to customize my new bike (pics coming up next time!) I made a sticky note, to remind Mike to take it to the shop, and somehow it ended up on Rufus. Mike says he doesn't know how it got there; I'm not buying it!


Ok, so friends of ours, from Alberta, went back home to get married in a modern day take on an old-time, small town wedding. I was honoured to be invited and asked to sing during the ceremony. The groom (John) was supposed to fly in on the wednesday, so we planned to fly out and surprise him at his bachelor party that night (I'm an honourary bachelor). However, the saturday before the wedding, John got really sick and had to fly out late, so he missed his bachelor party (we'll get you a new one in the fall, when you get better John!) and we found ourselves alone in Calgary for two days.

A few words about Calgary, from the eyes of a Cork-towner: clean, welcoming, smallish, easy to navigate, demographically homogenous, expensive, a little boring, friendly, under construction, great restaurants, not much to see... Calgary! Feel free to disagree.

I liked Calgary better than I thought I would, but I must admit, Edmonton is way cooler. I mean no disrespect, but the best part of Calgary was journey to and from Calgary and Fort Macleod. I have never seen such a huge sky! It's so immense, it's almost oppressive! In Toronto, the largest thing you see when you look around is the skyline-- all the buildings, and maybe the lake, if you are at the beach. In Alberta, outside the city, all you see is land-- rolling hills, mountains and BIG SKY! It's awesome, in the pre-1980s meaning of the word.

Look! You can see the curve of the planet!



It was FREEZING, by the way, so I spent most of the first two days trying to find a coat and something more suitable to wear in the 1 degree weather (silly me, I was thinking June wedding, summer temperatures?). Here is a pic of the most under construction building I have ever been inside, without a hard-hat-- The Calgary Mall:



And here is a picture of some snow, in JUNE, which appeared not long after the crazy hail storm we were so fortunate to be caught in:



The wedding was in Steph (the bride's) hometown, Fort Macleod, population 3000, every single one of them nicer than the next! Fort Macleod happens to be the town in which the movie Brokeback Mountain was filmed (you know the scene where they're making out in the stairwell, and his wife looks down and catches them? We walked by there like 10 times a day) Kind of funny, since Alberta is supposed to be so homophobic, that there are numerous plaques around the tiny town referring to the movie. Funnily enough, there's no mention of it on the town website. ;)

Steph and John got married in the theatre on main street, which was a very beautiful and well preserved early 1900s, multi-purpose theatre, and perfectly fitting, since the bride and groom are both "in" theatre. The next two photos are not mine, but I kinda forgot to take pictures of the town. These belong to a guy on flikr named "hikerguy". Hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them!





It's a quaint little town, with a pre-confederation feel, and we stayed in one of the 4 motels they have there, and apparently chose the wrong one:



Yes, it was raining in the bathroom!

The day of the wedding, we had time to go to Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump, which was only about 30 minutes away. It was pretty crazy seeing it all in person. Not like there's a mountain of buffalo bones at the bottom of the cliff, but actually being there, and reading all about it, watching the recreations and historical footage, and realizing how quickly the near-extinction of the buffalo came about after the onset of European immigration. And, for me, the most significant moment came when I read the copy of the treaty that was offered the Blackfoot, Blood and Peigans by the government of Canada. They really did make the offer sound appealing. Seriously, I can see how the tribes would be wooed by the terms of the treaties, especially since their main source of food, shelter and clothing (the buffalo) was fast disappearing. Too bad Canada had no intention of following through with most of the promises made.

Here are some pictures we took...it was snowing as we arrived, and then hailing, so it's not a very clear day, but still, yo can see how beautiful it was there:






Another aspect particularly enjoyed-- the HSIBJ Centre's carpet, which ran throughout the 5 floors of the building




This is the Smiley Barn, which I saw on the way back into Calgary, from Fort Macleod.



I actually stole the second picture of the Smiley Barn from Rob Mitchelson, who played guitar with me during the ceremony, and got a much better picture of it! And here's us at the ceremony!

Music is My Boyfriend

I am sipping a thimble-sized glass of Baileys on ice, by myself at 3 in the morning, not at all worried if this makes me an alcoholic or not. It is a little gift to myself, more about the sugar and milk content than the booze; a gift for a job well done this evening. Post-gig, celebratory nightcap, in a very cute antique, cut-crystal liqueur glass, one of a set that I pulled out of the garbage room a few months ago-- but that's another story.

I am not sure what I want to write about tonight...I just got inspired by my friend Cate's blog, which I read from time to time....and felt the need to break the seal, crack the ice, open the door...what have you... on my own blog, which has been wasting away, neglected for the last 6 months.

It's not that I haven't had anything to say... it's just that all my thoughts have been pouring into my music and my design work as of late. Which is a good thing, but I have missed writing these, and I do keep getting nagged about having but not using this blog.

So, last time I wrote, I promised to tell you about an amazing recording experience I had in the summer with a rock legend! It's almost too long ago now to do justice, but, he came back again last week, and we did one more song, so I am re-invigorated by his genius... so I'll see if I can tell the story now.....



The man is Garth Hudson. He is best known for his work with The Band, Ronnie Hawkins and Bob Dylan. He is a virtuosic keyboardist, and basically pioneered the use of the organ in rock and roll. Just google him, if you don't know who I'm talking about.

Garth is a proud Canadian, though he lives in New York State now, he visits Canada frequently. He is well known for being an excellent studio musician, as well as performer. He's done session work with (among many others) Neko Case, The Sadies, Martha Wainwright--some of my favourite musicians. My partner Scott (who's helping me finance and produce my album, as well as co-writing some of the songs) is a HUGE fan, and had this craaaaazy idea that we should email Mr. Hudson and ask him to come play on a few tunes next time he was in Toronto. I humoured him, knowing there was no way Garth freeking HUDSON was going to listen to my tracks, let alone respond or agree to this craziness, and Scott whipped off an email. The VERY NEXT DAY, I got a call from Maud, his wife, saying that she and Garth happened to be in Toronto, and would I like to meet with them, because Garth liked my tunes? I nearly peed myself and/or dropped the phone when she introduced herself (those of you who know me can imagine how much nervous giggling was going on), but her big, warm drawl calmed me down, and we chatted for a while and made plans to meet that night at Fran's Restaurant, an all night diner.

Now, I'm a night owl, but the Hudsons are even more nocturnal than I, so we met at about 4am, after Garth finished a session nearby. He didn't say much at all that first meeting, and neither did I (too friggin nervous). Maud did most of the talking, and Garth quietly ate his lemon meringue pie as I stole glances at him, trying to see under the rim of his big, black hat. He still had the wild, flyaway hair and great bushy beard, though both are silver now, as he must be in his 70s... And I was intimidated as could be, though they were all very sweet, complimentary and easy going.

After a couple of hours of getting to know each other, I left them with a CD of the songs I was hoping Garth would like enough to play, and went home to scream into a pillow for a few hours.

It's not that I was start struck, because I wasn't really. It's more that Garth has an air about him. He's a LEGEND. He's played with BOB DYLAN. He is a GENIUS. He likes MY music???!!! Maud told me he gets requests all the time, that they always listen to, but rarely respond to. That fact alone, makes me feel like I have accomplished something with my music. A compliment, like none other.

Cut to a few weeks later, when Garth came back to Toronto, and squeezed a day in to record 4 of my songs. I picked him up at the hotel, Maud stayed behind to work (I get the sense she is the glue, the salt, the meat-- the one who makes things happen-- thought she herself is also a very talented musician). There was a few moments of silence in the car, nervous small talk on my part. Then Garth took out his corn cob pipe (!) and began to speak-- about what, I can't remember, but listening to him, I felt my hands relaxing a bit, and my shoulders coming down from the painful permahunch... He has this amazing voice, somewhere between farmer/professor/shaman... and it is slow, and steeped with wisdom. There is no sense of an ego, though the man knows more about music than all the musicians I have ever met in my whole life wrapped up in one.

When we got to the studio, he went straight to the beat-up old piano in the corner, ignoring the bazillion dollar grand piano in the main room, and played nothing in particular, except that whatever it was, it had me in tears, weak kneed immediately. Everyone in the room-- myself, Scott, Ben the owner, Watson the engineer-- shared a look of disbelief-- slack-jawed, at the magic sound of Garth's playing, mere feet away. We could have stopped right then and it would have been worth it.

It was a long, arduous day in the studio. Garth was very tired as he'd gotten next to no sleep the night before, recording til the wee hours of dawn. But as Neil Young says (an old buddy of Garth's!) that's his style, man. He thrives on sleep deprivation, and he played beautifully. We did 10 times more talking, eating, joking and listening to Garth's stories than we did actual recording, but it was a perfect day.

Garth played accordian on two songs, and organ on two others. He has a unique way of working. Once he's heard the song a few times, he does a take. Then he comes in to the booth to listen, stopping to have the engineer erase a bum note here or there (the very few that there may be). Then, he goes back in and records a second take, without listening to the first, comes back out and repeats the "wiping" process. It is a fairly tedious way to work, but he knows exactly what he is looking for, and what his overall vision is. Because, suddenly, he asks the engineer to play all the edited takes back together, and you have pure musical genius. I don't know how he does that-- without listening to them together. He reminds me a bit of a modern Beethoven, writing music from memory...

The most memorable part of the whole experience for me, (and this happened again, last week when he came back) was the first few moments, when he sat down to record each song. I cannot express what an honour it was (IS) to have Garth Hudson play my music. I am always appreciative, and thankful of any musician who will learn my songs, and come out and play them with me. But Garth is sooooo unbelieveably talented, and busy, and legendary, and soulful, and I could go on and on. It was overwhelming, and by FAR the best musical experience I've ever had.

This time, when he came out to record, I was much more comfortable and relaxed with Garth, and had a chance to get to know him a bit. He is Rainman knowledgeable about music, and we got on a lot of off-topic threads, stemming from licks that he liked to play, or tunes he thought I should listen to. I made a long list, and have some serious homework to do, because most of them are fairly obscure. Every now and then, he'd tell little anecdotes, casually mentioning people I've read about, listened to, loved, for years ("Well, Levon has these parties at his barn...") It was kind of surreal. But the best part was how kind Garth was. He treated me like a musical equal, (which is ridiculous!) and shared his stories and melodies with all of us. He hung out and ate the homemade pastries I brought into the studio. He spent time teaching Ben and I how to learn scales, and gave me a pamphlet he'd photocopied at the library on proper musical notation and just really seemed to enjoy, and be, himself.

I imagine he is more at home in the studio than anywhere else. But I confess, I would love to see him puttering around the kitchen, or garage of his own home. Smoking his pipe on the porch, watching the sunset, drinking tea with Maud, telling stories about the road, and hearing endless melodies run through his head.

Thanks be to Thansgiving

Thanksgiving is my favourite holiday. It's the only one where you get to have the whole family together for a big, celebratory meal without the added pressure of present-buying frenzies, enforced aging, religious dogmas, etc. Also, it's the only holiday with a message I really believe in.

The history of First Nation Peoples in Canada (and the U.S.) is something that I know shamefully little about, despite vague, inaccurate, Western-skewed lessons in elementary school history class. The more I learn about it as an adult, the more horrified I become about the way the Canadian government bullied and lied it's way into claiming ownership of this continent. You don't have to dig very deep to find a long list of broken promises and outright betrayals of the native people of Canada, perpetrated by John A. and the rest of the Confederate government.

In fact, if you want to be cynical, I am kind of surprised that Thanksgiving is an official, statutory holiday, since we tend to sweep most issues concerning the First Nations under the rug.

Thanksgiving is the prescribed day in which we North Americans remember the kindness of the early First Nations People to the arriving settlers on the shores of the St. Lawrence. So the story goes, kind native Canadians welcomed the pioneers, and taught them how to hunt, shelter and survive in the Canadian wilderness. We all know how we repaid their kindness.

So, I do believe Thanksgiving to be the most important celebration of the year. And I wish it wasn't relegated to just one day. This year, take the time to look around your big kitchen table and be thankful for what and who you have in your life. Even those of us with family issues, personal hardship and trauma can find something to be thankful about, if we look hard enough. After all, we are all here in this beautiful country, living peaceful and free lives.

p.s. Come celebrate with me on Saturday October 11th, at Bread & Circus in Kensington Market. I will be playing a bunch of new songs, and hosting a Thanksgiving Potluck. It's my first turkey, so come hungry!

Other Creepy Crawlies

While waiting for the GO train at Port Credit Station last weekend, I noticed a BIG spider...and then another one...and then about 50,000 of them. Seriously. Look up, next time you are there.

Mythbusting

Really, I just have a bunch of photos to post, but I will say a few words first, to debunk the myth of the slowness of snails.

I have a colony of snails living and growing in a goldfish bowl in my kitchen. It started with one snail, whom I harvested from my friend John's tank because I thought it was cute. I managed to keep it to one snail only for months (this particular kind of snail breeds asexually), ritualistically culling unwanted eggs, and watching him/her grow bigger and cuter everyday. Then one day, I guess I missed a batch of eggs, because BAM! there was like 80 of them sliming around in there. So I have given in, and continue to let them procreate to their heart's content. They are really cute.

I decided to take some pictures of them the other day. Snails are really fascinating up close, and I wanted to try to capture some of their characteristics with my macro-lens. They have little mouths that are constantly scrubbing the sides of the tank, plants and rocks. They have little eyes, which aren't, contrary to popular depiction, at the end of their "feelers", but are on their faces. The "feelers" are just "feelers", as far as I can tell. Hmm...what's the technical term for a "feeler"? It's not quite an antennae...not really a horn...somewhere in between. And they have beautiful, one-of-a-kind patterns on their shells, which grow with them, over the months. They start of about as big as a pin head, and the largest I have seen gets to be about the size of a blueberry.

However, I was entirely unsuccessful in my attempts to photograph them. The little mofos refused to sit still. In fact, come to think of it, I have never, EVER seen a stationary snail. I think, like sharks, they never stop moving. Or maybe mine are just really high strung.

...And the little s.o.b.s are FAST! You know how everyone sterotypes snails for being slow--"inching along like a snail"; "going at a snail's pace" etc? Well it's not true! Snails are speedy. I bet if you did some kind of comparative analysis on snails-- speed vs. size vs. distance covered-- you'd discover they're nearly as fast as humans. Maybe not, like, Usain Bolt fast, but definitely mall-walking-granny fast. Or faster. I was duly impressed, and so should you be.

So excuse the blurry photos. What can I say? They were just too damn fast!

Garfield Minus Garfield

I am really excited right now because I just discovered Garfield Minus Garfield. A Irish man named Dan Walsh has re-invisioned actual Garfield comic strips, but without Garfield, Odie, Pookie or any of the other characters except Jon. The results are funny and disturbing. Here's what the website says:

"Garfield Minus Garfield is a site dedicated to removing Garfield from the Garfield comic strips in order to reveal the existential angst of a certain young Mr. Jon Arbuckle. It is a journey deep into the mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against loneliness and depression in a quiet American suburb."

What's amazing is that Walsh has done this WITH the permission of Garfield creator, Jim Davis. Apparently when Davis saw them, and was so impressed with the reinterpretation, he decided to allow Walsh to continue to edit and publish the strips, and the two are now collaborating to release a "Garfield Minus Garfield" book.

I find it really very interesting and amusing to look over the same cartoons I saw as a child with an entirely different viewpoint. No one has ever done anything like this with children's material before, to my knowledge. Or at least, no one has ever done it, gotten away with it, and even had the blessing of the original author!

I was a huge and I mean HUGE Garfield fan as a kid. My stepmother even made me a Garfield birthday cake one year, and I have never been so excited about cake (okay that's a lie....all cake is exciting---ooooh, especially the Simone LeBon cake she made two years later!) I still have all my Garfield books, and browse through them occasionally. What's sad is I dont find them funny at all anymore. Not even a little bit. They have unfortunately crossed into that vapid territory occupied by "Family Circus" and "Cathy".

I think that's okay, though. I think that's what's supposed to happen: you're supposed to grow up, and NOT still laugh at dead baby jokes and armpit farts. It's a good sign if you're 35 and you don't still find "Ziggy" hilarious.

The problem is, I don't WANT to grow up. I desperately WANT to still find Garfield funny. Every time I leaf through the books, I am like "please, let me laugh this time!"

But I don't. *Sigh*

So thank you Dan Walsh (a good, solid, straight-man-in- the-comics kind of a name, don't you think). For making Garfield funny again.






















images from www.garfieldminusgarfield.net