Tuesday, April 19, 2005

Phototally RAD

As promised, a photo-essay through my vacation. I hope you will accept this as a token of my affection for each and every one of you, and, as well, forgive me for abandoning you like a bunch of ugly puppies.

I think we are not so much 'in drag' as we are 'too weird looking to be welcomed by any gender.'
Sometimes, Brad and I dress up.

Didn't they ever teach you to stay INSIDE the lines?
Sometimes, Andy wins at the dress up game.

Helloooo!  The is B.R.A....D.
A dude in a skirt and hot pants poses between two urinals. A la It's A Wonderful Life, I'm quite positive that somewhere a conservative Republican just got shooting pains in his eyeballs.

The sad part is that I've worn the bottom half of this outfit unironically.
I took this picture accidentally, but I think it would make a fabulous album cover. Provided that Brad was actually a girl.

Let's play my favorite game, which I fondly call 'Two of These Girls Have Penises, so You Might Be a Total 'Mo if You Guess Wrong.'
Sometimes Brad is Gwen Stefani, with the three hottest backup dancers on the planet or, at the very least, in all of Northeast Ohio. But I'd put twenty bucks on it being the whole planet.

That's hot (TM).
Sometimes Darwin and Montana make better women than I can ever hope to be.

Denise is my favorite total fucking psycho.
Sometimes lunch ladies let their hair down. Occasionally they will also put their husbands in a bra.

Now picture him on a runway in a powder blue tux.
Sometimes--by which I mean all the time--Brian Ross makes this face.

I think my new pick-up line is 'Baby, I got legs like a dead prostitute.'
Sometimes you accidentally kill a hooker in your hotel room.

'My hand smells like the dog.'
Sometimes while dying his hair, Brad thinks deeply about...

And now I'm eating Campbell's tomato soup for lunch.  Man, I'm quitting.
...kabobs.

You weren't actually allowed to have food or drinks in the IMAX theater.  This is my adolescent rebellion.
When there are no kabobs to be had at the Science Center, I eat astronaut ice cream famished hamster-style.

And bend, two three four, up, two three four, dead, two three four...
Sometimes at the Science Center you stumble on a dead ballerina.

Brad isn't petting him.  He's keeping him from jumping in the goddamn lake. This dog's a nut.
Sometimes when you're walking a crazy dog...

Okay, seriously, how many rich men building castles for their wives who inevitably die mid-construction does it take for people to get the hint that maybe, just maybe, you don't actually need to live in a castle?
...you find a castle.

Roof.  Oh, roof.  Wherefore art thou missing?
For real.

His name is Stevie.  No joke.
Sometimes when you leave the castle you find a nutty old lady walking her horse of a dog, whose entire coat is dreadlocked and who looks like a giant mop.

Best move ever:  asking the cute tattoo artist where HIS tattoo was.  I'm a fuckin' genius.
Y'know, and sometimes you need a tattoo.

CAPTAIN PLANET!  HE'S OUR HERO!
Don't fuck with us. We'll steal your Rainbow Brites and half-color in all the pages in your coloring books.

3 Comments:

Anonymous brad said...

you can steal rainbow brites, i'm going for wallets and balls.

1:07 PM  
Anonymous Andrea said...

woah, that's uncanny. "rainbow brites" is totally my nickname for my balls. so you guys are still all good.

yeah, that's what I said.

2:12 PM  
Blogger Kunaxa said...

Welcome back Kathy.

So, do you like The New Pope?

6:16 AM  

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