tattoos are a huge part of my life, because I do them 6 days a week, and on my one day off , you can usually find me getting one.A piece of artwork is only as original as the artist who creates it. Just as each piece has its imperfections and unique irregularities, so does each person have their idiosyncrasies and often funny traits. It is these special quirks that make each and every, painting, sculpture, or simple sketch just as personable as those who create them. One doesn`t have to spend much time with me to notice some of my "quirks". For instance, my insatiable hunger for butter flavoring, for which I quench with a hefty serving of butter flavored rice cakes, which I then smother in...butter (or if I'm feeling fat,margarine). Or how about my passive aggressive kitty, who growls like a small, furry, Frankenstein at the first sign of affection. I named her Zoey but affectionately refer to her as the Zo-Zo Monk-Monk (Monk is short for monkey, which I am, for some reason, irrationally afraid of). I'm quite convinced that if my baby had thumbs there would be nothing standing in the way of the furry Feurer and world domination. One day, in the process of counting my kitty's nipples, I found an extra one, a cat nubbin, near one of the real ones. It seems to serve no function other than to point at the other nipple like, "look!, there's a nipple!". Because of my mother's obsessive need to clip coupons, I'm constantly being forced out to buy a small sundae from Friendly's so that I may get one free before the coupon expires. We spend money to save money. I sometimes wonder if my mother would buy a llama if someone promised she'd get a second one for free, or perhaps a slight discount, or maybe just a free toaster (mmmm...llama). I often notice while driving on the highway that there are many dead squirrels on the side of the road, but over the past several months I have noticed a drastic increase in these numbers. Using a star map, an old druid callander, and a plastic spork from Taco Bell, I have used these statistics to predict the oncoming of the end of days, ie. bye bye, BOOM. To help prevent this horrible oncoming of impending doom I have begun to create a group dedicated to the protection of all our short furry friends. That's right, I brake for squirrels. I wuv da fuzzy. Though my quirks make my unique, my hobbies keep my occupied. I sometimes enjoy a nice, active game of bowling. There's something about techno music and neon lights that makes me want to roll balls. I usually go with my boyfriend who looks especially cute in the neon yellow and orange shoes. They accent his pretty mouth. That's right, he's a pretty corrections officer...which may not be such a good thing. I spend my time alone drawing and making observations about things around me. Like, why does Brooks have three different kinds of peanut butter but none of them are crunchy? I've asked the manager about this. I mean, think about it! They could make a fortune if they just offered some crunchy peanut butter! They'd have a monopoly on the late-night, crunchy PB craved, pregnant women! I'm subsequently not allowed at Brooks anymore... "
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