Look into the light.

The decorated candles in all their waxy glory. If you need a candle decorated, I'm your Huckleberry.

The Butcher, The Baker, The Candlestick maker.

I forgot one thing. Today I decorated candles for a couple of friends of mine. They are trying to make the world a bit better and are going to sell the candles for a cause. I have to ask them what the cause is exactly. If anyone asks me I can't say: " eh.. it's for women and something about violence.. I think." That would be pretty horrible.
I really liked decorating the candles. I'll put some pictures of them here as soon as I force them out of my boyfriend's ipod with some kind of tool. A tiny crowbar would probably do the trick. Then I'll glue it on my blog with some Hubba Bubba.

Food blogs.

For a few months I've been obsessed with food and baking blogs. The knowledge I've accumulated during this time is probably around 6 kilograms. My brain is throbbing with wisdom. I actually don't know why I'm collecting this information. I even know how to make a sugarpaste to decorate cakes with and make tiny little sugar sculptures. If I would ever use this superpower of mine it would make me the envy of all the moms in town. Maybe I should move to the suburbs and have children. Or better yet, turn into a witch with cannibal tendencies. I can cover the apartment in sugarpaste and cakes and lure the neighborhood children into my sugarhell.
Or maybe I'll just become a food blogger one day. I hope not, my blog would probably turn someone into a child-eating lunatic in a sugarcoated hellhole.

Christmas mud.

I have not been very blog productive for some time. I blame Baby Jesus and uncle Siggi. The former for making me eat my own weight in meat and the latter for telling me that blogs are lame.


Here are a couple of illustrations for short stories that were published in Grapevine. They are the first illustrations of the year. I like that they are simple and color coordinated. I'm trying to draw more but I've been spending more time in the band's studio than my own drawing studio. The album is so close to the finish line that it would be stupid not to work on it. It's time to shake of the christmas dirt and spit in ones palms. But first I have to watch Dexter.

H.N.Y.

In ze nude.

Today we had a day off and Kerstin, the most wonderful tour manager in the universe, organized a perfect day. We went to Miramar which is a big German water park.

It has it's loud plastic area with water-slides and screaming children with their screaming families, they also have a biothermal relaxation area but and what is most important, they have a naked sauna paradise area. It is actually forbidden to wear clothes there.
Thankfully you can have a towel and pretend to be cool about all the nakedness and that you are only taking a small break from your own nudity by covering yourself with a towel.

After a couple of hours splashing about in the slides and wave pool, we had to find something to eat. The food court that is located in the fun area is as loud as the area itself, mainly due to the aforementioned screaming families. We decided to find something a little quieter. For some cosmically challenged reason the only other food court was located in the naked sauna area. We thought that eating a pizza wearing nothing but a towel could be interesting so off we waddled.

I saw so many middle-aged penises today that I think I most certainly need to turn into a cougar once I reach the same age as they were. Maybe it will all be okay and I will have sagging boobs and a turkey neck that will go wonderfully with their wrinklies. I'd rather not think about it right now. I just ate a lot of meat at a Kebap place.

The most interesting thing about this sauna nudist paradise is how awkward it was to me. I've been to oodles of nude drawing classes and sometimes I spent days doing nothing but draw naked people. It almost bothers me that nudity bothers me in different context than what I'm used to. Feeling like a prude is sort of a sickly feeling.

We are a weird species. Covering ourselves up all the time. Monkeys seem to be fine about being butt-naked. But then again, they have all this lovely fur to keep warm and cover their pink parts.

Traveling Pilsburies.

This is the latest comic in the series I've been making and have been published regularly in Grapevine. I still haven't found a good name for it so if anyone has a fertile mind with great ideas let me know.

This was also the last comic I made before we went on tour. Which reminds me:

Travel log, day one.

We have finally arrived in Belgium. So far this day has been a pretty long traveling day with short intervals of glorious food eating. We flew to Paris and then we slithered our way to Belgium. One plane, four trains and two taxis. The actual traveling part wasn't that long, only around eight hours total. But when we tried to buy train tickets in Paris, the trip went from 8 hours to 11. It would have been alright but we had to wake up before 5 AM this morning after about 3 hour sleep so we were tired and braindead.

Gare du Nord's lower levels are a horrible labyrinth. We wandered around, read every sign and tried our best to understand french. We found quite a few signs with arrows that actually led to nowhere. Maybe it's french humor? I wouldn't know. We found an elevator that didn't want to go to our level at first. We waited and waited and when it finally arrived and opened it's hellmouth, a stench like no other invaded our noses. There was urine splashed on the glass walls and it reeked so badly that I felt like throwing up. I didn't notice the piss until I was almost touching it with my hair and then it was to late. The elevator had already claimed us.

At a small information booth we met the two rudest and most unhelpful people in Europe. The woman was so passive aggressive that her sour little mouth almost disappeared when she refused to talk to us. These people didn't want help us at all and couldn't bother to inform us that the city of Antwerpen is called Anvers if you are french speaking. The huge "Information" sign above their heads looked like some elaborate irony. Maybe it was actually a joke, some french humor I'm not getting. Some boring candid camera thing they show on planes in France and Germany and is always more abusive that actually funny.

In the end, thanks to my boyfriend/boywonder who figured it all out and managed to force tickets out of some machine. That man has a brain the size of a watermelon.

I've never understood people that have jobs where they have to interact with other people but seem to hate the human race. It's utterly beyond me. Like these people today. I think they should move underground so the rest of us don't have to see their sorry little faces. And there they can pee in their elevators as they wish and make signs that lead to nowhere.

Anywho, this was just a detour. The trip was fun and I'm very happy to be back on the mainland. I'm very excited to play at the festival tomorrow.