Perhaps I’ve peppered my speech with too many Heath Ledger bashings over the years and that’s what earned me an inbox full of updates today about him being found dead this morning in New York. I don’t know. I’d insert some callous remark about how I’d swear Hollywood’s bleak cinematic landscape just shimmered for a brief moment… but, he’s got a two-year-old daughter. C’mon… have a heart. Besides, there’s a multitude of more important and pressing events in the news that deserve my complete apathy.

Then came a real surprise. (You see, I’m often the kind of asshole who only tends to care when his ego is affected in one way or another… and I guess this is one of those times.) This Swedish dude sent me an e-mail reminding me of an quick exchange we had about two years ago regarding him getting my painting, The Absinthe Drinker, tattooed on his torso. I didn’t hear from him again until today… and I assumed he forgot about it. I did. But, wow, what a flattering surprise! Only yesterday I ran into a guy while I was out shopping who had his calf covered with a phoenix I drew years ago in a set of tattoo flash I made to earn some extra cash… and I thought that was big, but I think this absinthe one is the largest replica of my work I’ve ever seen on someone. It’s done quite frickin’ well, too!

Ok, I’m done. I think I’m going to throw a Hot Pocket in the microwave.

Ew.