2002-08-08 � Muppets have hijacked my head

muppets have hijacked my head

There are times when i'm working when I feel like my imagination completely hijacks my brain and insists on going on an extended joyride. Today, for instance.

I've been working on illustrations for a kids' activity page for a dinosaur museum. The look is essentially Atomic Flintstones with a slight Parisian (sp?!) edge and a yummy '50's palette. And all the illustrations look like they've been drawn by someone with a wicked case of vertigo. [ I'm starting to think purchasing a gold membership so I can upload images might be a bonus idea here as i'm not sure this description is really doing my illustration justice.]

Anyhoo, I've been obsessed with my little cartoon tour guide, a squat, snaggle-toothed Albertosaurus (smaller cousin of spotlight grubbing T.Rex) that I've dubbed, what else, SQUAT. Squat has a taller, more elegant buddy and all day I've been trying to decide whether to call him "Ed" which has a snappy simplicity to it, or whether to call him "Ernie" in homage to the Ernie of Bert & Ernie fame.

In short, I've pretty much got muppets on the brain ... [ weird aside: Right now they're all dancing and waving big foam letters at you. Wave back.]... which is information you really need to understand as I proceed with this story. So I've got muppets on the brain as i'm sitting waiting for my printer to spit out the latest version of this kids' page. My printer is taking it's sweet time and I suddenly decide I'm thirsty and need a glass of iced tea which, if you've been paying any attention at all here, you'll know that I'll drink three quarters of and then add to my much admired desk collection of day-old beverages.

So downstairs I go. The wolf is flaked out on the couch watching the world crumble on CNN. I don't know how pleased she is about that, but as she has not yet mastered the ability to use the remote [it's a big challenge when you're only equipped with paws � like trying to thread a needle while wearing oven mitts], she's forced to watch whatever nonsense I left on the last time I was down there. Today that happened to be CNN.

As i'm walking past on my way to the kitchen, I hear Wolf Blitzer* or whoever saying "...and that brings the number of suicide bombers to ten. Ten suicide bombers who have...."

The image that springs to my mind so vividly it makes me stub my toe on a chair leg is that of Sesame Street's Count.

"TEN! That's ten suicide bombers! VaAhh-ha-hahaha!..."

I am one sick puppy.

* there is NO WAY that that's his real name. It's probably Herman Schmeltzer or Walter Wetshispants.

And to any of you with dogs thinking that I really shouldn't allow mine to lounge on the couch, let me just say I have absolutely no illusions about whose castle I'm living in. One just doesn't argue with the Queen of the Forest . And curtsy, gawddammit! What, were you born in a barn?!


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