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[bigboycrayons]

Singing in Public

So I went to a farmer’s market, which was a huge disappointment as there were no farmer’s for sale, like...anywhere...

As I left, obviously disappointed, angry, and followed by the police I saw a man singing for the ... for someone.  He had his head back, his eyes closed and he was BOOMIN that voice out for the world to hear.  Unfortunately for him (and everyone in a two block radius) he sounded less like Stevie Wonder and more like Stevie Wonder’s cat when Stevie stepped on his tail for the millionth time.

Maybe it’s time to give up on cats, Stevie.  Just sayin.

Anywho, it made me think to myself.  I said,  “Self (which is what I call myself), there are a LOT of people out there who maybe don’t quite understand that they’re doing it wrong.”  

“It” being both a movie I will never see, and just... normal stuff that everyone else seems to grasp, but a few people out there haven’t quite got the hang of.  And since I’m not only ruggedly handsome AND humble, but also magnanimous as hell, I decided to help.  I’m a helper. 

So for awhile, I’m going to post some helping stories and pictures.  Because I’m a helper.  I help.  You’re welcome.

When you sing in public, this is how you THINK you sound/look:

But this is how you REALLY sound/look:

[bigboycrayons]

A New Beginning

[bigboycrayons]

How to Install Adobe Elements

How to install Adobe Elements:

1)  Open the box. 

2)  Catch all of the loose papers, manuals and Shutterfly cards as they fall out.

3)  Pry out a sleeve containing your software (because unlike all the stuff that ISN'T your software, that baby is rammed in tighter than science should allow with mere paper).

4)  Take the box out of the sleeve.  You heard me right. There is a box inside the sleeve that is inside your box.  Like a terrible modern version of those Russian dolls.

5)  Open the box that was in the sleeve.  But unlike the OTHER box, this box opens on the side, so make sure you look at the box like a monkey trying to figure out quantum physics before you realize that some idiot did that only so you couldn't open it from the sleeve, but were forced to take it out of the sleeve. It's an incredibly "artistic and modern" plain white box with the logo on it as if I would suddenly wonder "wait...who the hell made this again?"

6) Finally open the box inside the sleeve inside the box.  Take out the appropriate disc. Insert into machine and assume the worst is over.

7) It isn't over. Once you realize it will NEVER be over, it's easier to move on.

8) Install the software?  Sort of.  Auto-run doesn't work like it does on every other piece of software I have ever run on this machine. Whatever.  Start installing. Get to the point where it says "Give me the damned serial number" or whatever it says more politely (though at this point they may as well be knocking books out of your hands and throwing slushees in your face because you feel like a confused but lovable nerd with a heart of gold that just started his first day at what the entertainment industry clearly believes high school was like this for everyone).

9) Look for the serial number.  Look through a leaflet declaring you can GET THE MOST OUT OF ELEMENTS TODAY FOR ONLY $100!  YES, $100 GIVES YOU A STARTER KIT TO... wait... are you kidding me?  For $100 I could buy a totally worthless "starter kit" that gives me videos I could find on YouTube and TWO magazines...what a total ripoff...but this isn't my serial number.

10)  Look for the serial number. Not on the Shutterfly card.

11)  Look for the serial number.  Not on the 30 day trial of Premiere.  Wait, didn't I buy Photoshop WITHOUT Premiere already?  Adobe would make excellent drug pushers. No serial number here.

12)  Look for the serial number.  Not in the "manual" which actually tells you less about using Photoshop than I have in this tutorial.  No serial number here, which is good since it's about as useful as a set of sponge teeth.

13) Wait.  I think I found it! USE THE CODE ON THE BACK TO RETRIEVE YOUR SERIAL NUMBER!  Flip card over.   Begin to enter your Redemption Code and... redemption code? What the hell?  Read the tiny words in grey on a black card.  HINT TO ADOBE SINCE YOU CLEARLY HAVE NEVER WORKED WITH ARTISTS BEFORE:  Tiny grey words on a black card tells the reader "Hey... this is no big deal, you probably don't even need to read it".  When in fact, these stupid little ninja words nearly hidden from sight tell me something....they tell me to go to your WEBSITE and enter my redemption code into the site to get my ACTUAL serial code.

14)  Go to website.  Enter Redemption Code.  Enter "captcha words". I would like to take a moment here to say that I HAAAAAATE "Captcha words".   It's always a word.  And then another word that ALMOST looks like a word but not quite.  And then you take those two words, run them through a digital blender, stretch them out of shape and vomit them on my screen in a manner that no human being could possibly read it, then proceed to make me feel like an idiot because I can't read TIEkENeeke" when it looks like it's been pulled through a taffy machine powered by a crack addict.  Nor can I read any of the other 30 attempts when I try to generate a word that I may possibly be capable of reading. Someone please figure out a better way.  I would rather give you a blood sample than use "Captcha words".

 15)  Serial code generated!  But wait... it is now MY responsibility to PRINT this stupid thing.  If I accidentally close this page I have no doubt that Adobe would tell me to go straight to hell and call me a pirating ninny.  For some reason, the utter paranoia levels I have gone through at this stage to use this software just put a very clear picture in my head of a pimply nerdy guy screaming "avast ye pirate ninnny" into the customer service phone lines any time someone calls.  Maybe he even has a tiny little cannon that he fires off every time someone calls.

16) CAREFULLY print the magic serial code.  Why isn't this generated into a PDF?  Doesn't Adobe own that whole PDF thing?  I'm pretty sure they do.  Serial Code of Justice is printed on 3 pages of paper, only ONE of which contains my serial code.  Thanks, Adobe.  I feel like my mom yelling about not being made of paper, and it makes me shudder in sadness.

17) COPY SERIAL CODE!  Right click to paste....right click to paste...evidently Adobe won't allow this.  Thankfully I know the super secret trick of using CTRL-V, and it works.  But it adds in the spaces.  At this point, if they won't accept the code with the spaces, I am more than willing to burn down their entire building as I laugh like an evil pirate on the high seas just discovering an island made of gold and covered in strippers.

18) Install software.  NO, NOT PREMIER.  HOLY MOTHER OF ALL THAT IS MADE OF CHEESE AND BACON, I WILL RIP YOUR INSIDES OUT AND GIVE THEM TO ORPHANS!  I WILL SMASH YOUR TESTICLES INTO PASTE, THEN REFORM THEM INTO TESTICLES! I WILL....(at this point I passed out from rage).

19) Use software?  No... restart my machine for this devil-ware to work properly.  WHY?  SERIOUSLY!?!?! I WILL EAT YOUR FACE OFF WITH A RUSTY SPATULA AND A SIDE OF PICKLE!  I WILL TEAR OFF YOUR TOES AND USE THEM AS EARPLUGS!  I WILL...

20) Use software.  AFTER you delete the desktop icon for Premiere that they installed on your machine JUST IN CASE, even though I CLEARLY REMEMBER saying I didn't want it installed in any way, shape or form.

Just a little side note for Adobe here.  Why do you insist on NOT creating a happy little folder to put all of your crap in?  Are your installation developers all devil worshippers and this is how they intend to turn the world to madness? Hmm?  Create a folder like EVERY OTHER COMPANY ON THE PLANET, and put your software in there like good little boys and girls. 

And for the record...I get it... I get why you have created this monstrosity.  You have probably got the most pirated software to ever exist.  I know PLENTY of people that pirate your software (though I think it was a genius move to make the cheaper Elements and to create the "subscription" version.  But you know what?  I bet it's EASIER to pirate your software than it is to actually buy and install it.  You have gone so far over the deep end with your protection concerns that you honestly look borderline insane.  You are like that ex girlfriend that stalks you on Facebook and FourSquare "just in case Facebook isn't working", and it's creepy.  I suggest hiring a consulting firm to help guide you back to reality a bit, because this was an absolutely maddening experience.

Also, sorry it took me a year for this post.  I have more coming.

[bigboycrayons]

The Devil Invented the Prius

I drive to work.  Which, I assume, is common enough.   And on my many trips to work, I have noticed a trend.  And that trend is what I call "The Prius Driver" when I'm around children and nuns.  Or, what I call "You son of a bitch, get out of the fast lane or I will murder you and everyone you know" around adults (but not my mom).

The Prius Driver is the worst person you can imagine.   I have done a great deal of research and I have come up with a formula to create your very own Prius Driver, though I can't imagine why anyone would want to unless it was something you wanted to test baseball bat integrity with.  The recipe:

Two parts yuppie.  Now, personally I use the kind of yuppies that used to wear their collars turned up on their pink Izod shirts.  You know, the kind you want to punch in the face on pure instinct.  Someone who thinks they are technologically awesome because they drive a pack of Duracells on 14 inch wheels.

One part hippie.  Make sure you don't get the smelly kind of hippie (which is VERY tough to find), but the kind of modern city dwelling hippie who talks about how "green" they are while still living in a modern city rather than being a REAL hippie and living out on some wilderness ranch where they raise tie-dye colored animals and sing songs about brotherly love and whatever kind of hippie crap they can come up with.  You know, the trendy hippie.  NOTE: Hipsters do NOT make good substitutes.

Four parts lost asshole.  A good way to find someone like this is to go to Target and look for someone who assumes that they can stand in the middle of the exit doors and talk to their friends even if they are blocking the entire planet from walking outside.  Or go to any supermarket and look for the person who is explaining her yeast infection to her dearest friend on her mobile phone while at the same time, ordering 1/100th of an ounce of every single pasta at the deli counter in a loud voice like the guy behind the deli counter is in another county.

Mix these all together and bake at 350 for an hour.  When it comes out of the oven, if you don't instantly want to murder it as brutally as possible, you did it wrong.  It's not enough to be a real Prius Driver.  But DON'T DESPAIR!  You may be able to use it in a Subaru!

Why do I hate Prius Drivers, you ask?  Because of 11 miles.  That's how far I drive to work.  And every single day, my  30 minute drive looks just like this...

And this is on a GOOD day.

If I win the lottery, the very first thing I am going to buy; 9 sledgehammers.  The SECOND thing I will buy is a brand new Prius, that I will drive off the lot and demolish in plain sight of other people even thinking about buying a Prius, as a fair warning.

[bigboycrayons]

So yeah... OK then...

I admit that it's been awhile since my last post.  BUT I HAVE A VALID EXCUSE!

While I could go the narcissistic route and claim that my world class art created chaos and turmoil that ultimately led to my demise of fist-shaking hatred created by a secret inner sanctum of VPs who put out an extraordinarily high bounty on me and blanketed a 2,000 mile radius with "WANTED:  DEAD OR MOSTLY DEAD" posters... the simple fact is that I lost my job.

And while that may cause a gasp among the millions of people that have never heard of this silly blog, the fact is that I was torn... I mean, can I still brutally murder my boss if he is no longer my boss?  HOW CAN THIS SITE LIVE ON?

But alas... live on it does.  I still have some pictures from when I was there and I will be happy to share them while I ramp up in my new job.  The OTHER problem I have is... I am sorta kinda in a way my own boss at this new job.  How the hell do I kill ME and still have a blog?  And my new boss... will he be offended if I rampantly murder him in various ways (note to new boss (and possibly police): not murder you for really reals, only on paper)?

A dilemma.

And then I started thinking really deep.  Like, Edgar Franklin Poe (no relation) deep.  I thought... "What is the meaning of life, really?"...and "Are you going to eat that?"... and "Seriously, if you aren't going to eat that, can I have it?"... and "Why are were-type-beings always wolves? Are there werepoodles?"

So with that out of the way, I bring you... the Werepoodle(tm)!!

I hope you enjoyed my updated post. Or if you didn't, I hope that your eyes fall out and heavyset bikers run over them.

[bigboycrayons]

My Life Is Not My Own

So as I was wandering through the Art Gallery today, I noticed something amiss... my latest picture was missing!

Was it another case of "The Great Art Caper" or merely my boss removing the picture like he did with the others? And then it got even spookier... as I went to ask my boss if he had taken the picture, I noticed that EVERY OTHER PICTURE WAS MISSING!  Oh boy!  Great Art Caper, here we come!

I bought one of those hats where there are two front parts to them like that Sherlock dude had.  I contacted the authorities to let them know that there may be a need for paramedics and attack helicopters (which prompted a follow up call from a high ranking police officer to ask me a series of very confusing questions...).  I PREPARED FOR THE WORST!

But nope... it was just my boss...who, in his infinitely evil way (ie normal), informed me that he had removed the Picture In Question because I was taking too long to update my blog.  He not only took that picture down, he took ALL of the pictures and hid them from site (probably in a secure safe to sell for millions of dollars at a future date after he murders me and they become priceless).  Honestly, I was a little disappointed.  I had hoped to have A Mystery to solve.  That hat wasn't cheap, and I have another interview with a "Police Therapist", whatever that is.

So naturally, I asked him in the most polite manner possible just what the hell he had done that for.  I mean, THINK OF ALL THE PEOPLE MISSING OUT ON ENJOYING MY ART AND POSSIBLY GIVING ME HUGE SUMS OF MONEY!  As far as I was concerned, he was taking a nearly infinite amount of money from me and holding it hostage.

Hostage?

Yes, hostage.  You read it right.  Until I succumb to his blackmail and update my blog with new pictures, they remain under the control of a team of armed ex Navy SEALS (at least, that's what I tell myself... it would be too boring to imagine them just sitting in a desk drawer).  So I have to post a picture, or run the risk of future financial ruin.

While I am all for putting up new pictures OF MY OWN FREE WILL, I sort of feel like this I am being blackmailed.  I bet this is exactly how it happened to Nixon.  And it's hurting my creativity.  Mostly because the tears I shed as I draw are washing away the crayon colors, but that's not the point here...

Here is a new picture for you.  If this is the last time we get a chance to talk, or if you see me in the news with helicopters surrounding me as I drive really really really slow in a white Ford Bronco down a freeway, you know why.  You know the truth of how this whole downward spiral began.

It began with my boss.

Enjoy the evil weasels, you bastard!

[bigboycrayons]

I call B.S.

So I saw something the other day that I thought "THIS IS GOING TO BE AMAZING!"

I left it alone for a few days.  I wanted to build the anticipation to a level where I was on the VERY EDGE of wetting my pants, and maybe even to the "dribble stage".  I dreamed about it... I wrote a haiku about it.  Here is the haiku:

Entertainment yay,

Soon I will behold wonder.

Five syllables here.

And finally... I went for it.  I grabbed a box of ENTERTAINMENT CRACKERS!  I know, right?  Here is a picture.

Let me tell you something...I was disappointed. 

They don't do shit. 

Nothing.  They just sit there like every other cracker I've ever seen.  Check it out.

Nothing.  Have you ever felt like "Sure, Star Wars Episode 1: Jar Jar Ruins My Childhood Memories was a bad experience, but surely that was a one-time thing."?  Let me tell you, kids, life is evidently FULL of disappointments.

I made a list of things I expected to see and the results. As you can see below, they only passed one Entertainment Expectation Test:

Relax.  I got this.  I emailed them with my concerns over their lies. 

I will update you when I get my response.

[bigboycrayons]

My Boss

I've had a few people ask me about my boss, MisterX.

But before I get into it... how the hell did you people find me?  Seriously.  I appreciate that you people find me funny (though NO ONE has sent me any cash or treasure chests full of gold coins and magic swords yet, hint hint), but I admit to being a bit overwhelmed by how quickly people have noticed this stupid blog.  And by "overwhelmed" I mean "send me money".

So my boss wants to be "famous" and he sent me a picture of a violent act from work where he killed a man.  I'm not sure why the police haven't arrested him but I think it's because he paid the cops off or our HR Department covered it all up.

Before he sent me the picture, I decided to create an Artist's Rendering of the event and how I saw it happen, and I hope you notice that both pictures are EERILY similar.   It's remarkable what kind of details the mind can capture.  He has a beard now, so I added that into the image, but otherwise it's SPOT ON.

Interesting facts:

1)  My boss is much shorter than he looks in my pictures.   But not much fatter.  The camera can do that, I guess.

2)  I really want to curse at some point in my blogs.  I actually curse an unbelievable amount in reality, but it just feels awkward writing "shit monkey" in a blog.  Maybe I will do it eventually, but for now I will just keep it clean.

IMAGE 1:  ARTIST'S RENDERING

IMAGE 2:  ACTUAL PHOTO

[bigboycrayons]

People Are Sooooo Funny

So as I mentioned, my amazing works of art (what's the difference between priceless and valueless?) are displayed in an an "art gallery" at work... which, to be fair, is more of a "hallway with pictures and some macrame", but I digress. 

I've been happy with the comments I've received from my co-workers, and not-so-sercretly-happy with the fact that my boss blatantly steals each picture as a new one goes up.  But a few days ago, I became the victim of my own "success".  A guy here at work, who I will call Eric Myers, because it's his real name and he deserves to be called out for his heinous act decided to play with me a bit.

Now, so you know... my pictures are of my boss.  Not my boss' boss' boss, the CEO.  But Eric, in his infinite evilness, decided to tell me WITH AN INNOCENT FACE that the CEO had been walking through The Gallery with Some Very Important Clients, who were aghast at the fact that some subordinate would be so crass as to show the CEO of the company being attacked by evil weasels in such an open manner.

Of course, I panicked.  I ran to his office.  With tears streaming down my face and mumbling "Nononononononooooo...oh God. Nonono..."  I stumbled toward his inner sanctum, ready to beg forgiveness and explain that I wasn't murdering HIM in crayons, but an entirely different boss.

It made sense at the time.  Back off.

So I get to his office and see him walking out the door to go home.  Probably to find a clever way to fire me, right?  I say "CEO (not his real name)  I just wanted to explain that the crayon murder pictures weren't of YOU, they were of MisterX (maybe a real name...)."

He looked at me with eyes that said "You poor fool.  You poor sad little man." and politely asked me what the hell I was talking about.  Uh... I told him about the pictures and he said that they sounded funny.  He mentioned that he should go look at them.

I bid farewell to CEO, and walked away in a daze.  Maybe aliens ate his memory?  What happened?  And then I saw that bastard Eric Myers.

Laughing.

Turns out... he made the whole thing up.  Oh he LOVED watching my tears.  ADORED seeing my panic and anguish.  And between us, if he knew that I had peed a little on the way to see CEO, he probably would have laughed at that too.

So as a "thanks", I made him a happy little picture.  And nailed it to his door with a bloody spike.  Or tape.  Whatever.  I hate him.

Interesting facts:

1)  I used 4 commas in my first paragraph.  I like commas.

2) This is the first picture I have drawn without a smile.  Because I hate him.

[bigboycrayons]

I like the ocean. It's so peaceful.

The world is crazy, but not crazy enough.

Not 5 minutes after I made my first post, someone walked by me and said "Hey man, nice new blog."   Which was crazy.

Where the world isn't crazy enough is that I SHOULD be filthy rich by now.  I mean, if information travels this fast, why can't cash?  Right?

Anyway, you don't come here to listen to me whine.  You come for the pictures.

This one is larger than most, simply because I wanted to show off that my amazing works of art are displayed in an ACTUAL art gallery.  Granted, it's an art gallery at work, and about half the people here ask me "what art gallery?" when I try to convince them to go look at all the art displayed... but that's a different story.

I call this one:  Old Man Into the Sea.

Interesting facts:

1)  I blacked out my name to protect my identity for when I get rich from all of this.  I don't want you moochers telling me about your "amazing new idea that totally needs to be invested in."  I have my own needs.  Gold plated coffee cups don't pay for themselves, you know!

2)  My boss stole my first picture (which, for a time, I was calling The Great Art Heist for added drama) and put it in his cube.  This immediately became a theme of his as I added new pictures.

[bigboycrayons]

My First Masterpiece

Going off of what I said in my first post (which was all of about 5 minutes ago), I chose the most obvious child's theme which included a house.

I call this one:  A Masterpiece in Thalo Blue.

Interesting facts:

1) There is no Thalo Blue in this picture.

2) This picture instantly created a monster in my boss, who insisted on seeing more.

3) I draw all of these with crayons or colored pencils then take a picture of them with my phone camera.  It's SUPPOSED to be amateur, so back off.

[bigboycrayons]

So yeah...

I've always been fascinated by children's drawings.   And one night I was reading a novel by Terry Pratchett, where... well let me explain it my way so I don't steal anything.

So this girl is in this kid's picture, and she KNOWS it's a kid's picture because of the way it's drawn.  The house has the expected curly smoke coming from the expected chimney, and everything just FEELS childlike.

And I was thinking... with my (admittedly) childlike sense of deep sarcastic irony (my kids, not yours), it would be fun to taunt my boss with some pictures I drew. 

I have to tell you though, I LIKE my boss.  If I didn't, I certainly would not have displayed these pictures where he could see them.  I would hide them in a diary where one day, a large stash of deeply psychotic pictures drawn in crayons would be discovered and people would wonder exactly what the hell I was thinking.  And then they would go to the media outlets and say "Yeah we KNEW he was a freak. SEE? SEE?"

But I digress...  I do like my boss.  I just have two things:

1)  A sense of humor that can often be a little awkward.

2)  An enjoyment of the purest form of art there is... that of a 4 year old.

Enjoy.  Or don't.  Whatever.

[bigboycrayons]

ROBOTS OR DINOSAURS?

Robots.  Duh.