Back to my Roots

Little did you know, this blog rocketed out of Mother Internet’s vagina as a blog about airbrushing. I decided to rename it “Escapism,” due to the culturally irrelevant nature of the posts I write. (For example, the critically acclaimed* Ode to the Short-Haired Girl, and one of my personal favorites, Old People: THEY’RE EVERYWHERE.)

Lately I’ve been getting back to my airbrushing roots.

Back:

That’s a shark and a wave if you can’t tell:

For Hannah Mantana: THE MOVIE:

And now for the meat. Here’s a little ditty I wrote called “A Poem About Airbrushing.” It would be best to read it silently to the tune of “The Moment” by Kenny G.

A Poem About Airbrushing

Spray, paint, spray,
not on my fingernails or skin —
Spray on the fabric that is
literally
right under your nose.
Spray, paint, spray,
Decided to take the day off?
No paint today?
Oh, because I could have sworn
(sworn)
that merely five minutes ago
I loaded $10 worth of fabric paint into your little
chamber
of
death.
Spray, paint, spray,
Or better yet, fling ugly blobs of paint
at my blank canvas of a teeshirt.
REAL MATURE.
Spray, paint, spray,
Oh guess what?
my dad heard my cacophonous frustration with you today
and guess who’s getting a NEW airbrush gun
for her birthday?
That’s right – me!
I’m throwing you away. :)

For more pictures of stuff I’ve airbrushed…

I lost my airbrushing v-card to this tshirt, and I attended President Obama’s Inauguration wearing the hoodie in this post

*Not really