People In Hell Want Ice Water

Lately, this blog has become a storage facility for all the cool links I find online. There hasn't been much actual "blogging". Today, I was looking at pictures of zombies, in an attempt to formulate costume plans for the coming holiday. I came across one girl's blog. She makes knitted zombies. I think I want to have sex with her, just for that. I added her as Cakeyvoice at right. She made knitted White Stripes too. Where does this chick live, because I'm going to find her and rip her clothes off?

Hey, did you know Runts candy now has pineapple? Freakin' weird. No wonder I'm so hyper.

Oh, "what's been going on?" you ask. Long story short - work sucks major league ass, the relationship is topsy turvy, I haven't been home much, and I'm just as broke as I ever am. Going back to NYC in December.

Ta for now. Got to go get my smoke on (yeah, I fucked up the quitting thing again).

The Sweetest Ideas Are Born In Hell

This idea freakin' rocks! If I still had any friends left, I'd use this idea for a little shindig. Maybe when I finally, finally find an apartment, this will be my housewarming party idea. I do have friends though, it's just that the closest two of them have either screwed me over or don't talk to me anymore. But, my bf has lots of friends, so maybe I will get along with them. He's got one close friend who also happens to be his ex-girlfriend. I am SO trying to be mature about it, but it really bugs me. He asked if I wanted to go meet her last night and I said no. I was feeling cranky and insecure and drunk. When I finally meet her, I want to be really cool about the situation and not treat her like shit for no good reason. After all, who's with him now? Right, I am.

Klickity-klackity Hell

Hey You,

Yeah, you with the rolling luggage. Are you on your way through the airport? No, I think not. I know you’re just going to work with that thing. First of all, you’re a freakin’ retard. Secondly, if you trip me with that crap one more time, I’m going to put you in a wheelchair. Nevermind the dirty look you gave me when I kicked your crappy baggage, as if it was my fault; as if you didn’t just cut in front of me with that bullshit bag you’ve got there. Is it such a strenuous task to pick something up with your freakin’ hands and carry it? Do you have bowling balls in that thing that you’re dragging around behind you? I’m going to smack the living shit out of you with your own stupid wheeled briefcase. Get a god damned backpack for that shit.

Love,

Neko

A Quickie In Hell

Okay, so I've been out of touch lately. Neko found herself a new bf. It's pretty rad. Neko likes to drink red wine and pop Xanax. Fun! Neko can't wait for her friend's b-day party this weekend. She's got a Guitar Hero jonse.

Wallowing in Hell

The man of my dreams just got married. Not only did he get married - he got married in my town and just after I saw him last. I'm devastated. It's like a kick in the stomach and then a knee to the grill on the way down. Ouch. So, I'm spending money I don't have in bars I visit alone. Life sucks ass. Whenever I was down, all through the divorce and my brother's death, I would look to him and think how happy I'd be if we were together. But now, I just don't know where to turn.

But instead of rambling even more about my heartache, I decided to finally post some pics of that painting I did. I wonder if I could get anything for it if I tried to sell it. I'm always so attached to my paintings though. Don't know if I could let them go. I'd feel like a whore in some regard.



This is the first preliminary work. Instead of sketching it out on paper first, I just grabbed a brush and went to town. It's too bad I can't have these inspired moments more of the time.



Here, all of the outline work is done and I'm ready to add some color. I did the outline in brown this time, instead of my usual black.



I'm starting to add the first hair color here. As you can see, I decided she should be a redhead.



The second hair color. I'm doing it in sections, as you can see. No rhyme or reason here, just spontanious.



The hair is done here I think.



I've started to add color elsewhere. I still don't think I had an idea of what I was doing, but I love the combination of orange and green.



At this point, I'd decided that things needed to be a bit more sinister and so I added a dark backgroud. I think this is when she became a zombie girl in my mind.



I had some extra paint and couldn't bear to let it dry, so I painted over the edges of the canvas on three sides.



Since zombie girl is part of my "chicks with crows" series, I needed to add an element of my favorite corvus somewhere. So, up in the corner is a feather, in negative.



At this point, I've filled in some more of the details and added some light blue shading to bring out the white on her collar and eye.



This is the final picture. I put in some blue veins on her neck and face to show that the poor girl contracted a virus of some kind, turning her into a flesh-craving undead creature.

A Wire In Hell

You know what gets me hot these days?


Computer geeks.


No, seriously.

To JW, from Hell

Dear Jack,

Why is it that The White Stripes rock so damn hard? I recently picked up your new album, Icky Thump, and I must have listened to it thirty times since. I can’t get enough of it, from Conquest all the way to A Martyr for My Love, which is my favorite track. After having been a band for so long, I guess I expected The White Stripes to get stale eventually. I suppose that I am used to that from a lot of bands who keep putting out what are essentially the same songs year after year. I am also used to only finding about half of an album enjoyable, whereas I can listen to The White Stripes (any album) all the way through and love what I hear.

I met you briefly when you were in Denver with The Raconteurs. I was the girl standing next to the guy with the foot high mohawk. No, I don’t expect you to remember, especially since I was entirely too star-struck to say anything to you. All I could do was shake your hand and stammer. I’ve spent a lot of time hanging out by tour busses, trying to meet my favorite stars. But, I was so impressed by how friendly and appreciative you were to all of your fans standing outside that day. Sorry to say, but I thought whatshisname was a prick. That’s probably why I’m not as much of a Raconteurs fan.

Your show with Meg last year at Red Rocks was amazing! I really hope you stop by again soon for another show. Thanks for putting out yet another kick-ass album! Say “Hi” to Meg for me too.

Love,

Neko

Milestone in Movie Hell

Guess What?! I have reached the 50 mark over at Neko Goes to the Movies!!! It's been a lot of work and a lot of movies thusfar. My class project over at The Art Institute is actually the template for Neko Movies. It's not up yet, but we're getting close. There will be Flash and animations and loads of cool shit when it's finished - a totally new look for the site. I'm even going to change the title and give it it's own domain. So, look for those changes in the future. Oh, and thanks to the one person who's gone a voted for her favorite zombie movie. What the Hell are the rest of you waiting for?! Ghost? I'm so disappointed. Where's the love, man?

What Fresh Hell is This?

Hey, has anyone been over to Neko Goes to the Movies lately? I'm up to 49 reviews now!! And, there's a zombie poll going on right now. So, what are you wasting time for?! Go and vote!!

HellTunes

My boss is being a cunt and a half lately. And I've been going off and getting irresponsible with my new friend.

Here's today's listening choice:

A Martyr For My Love For You by The White Stripes from the Icky Thump album.

Lyrical Hell

"She stole the keys to my house,
and then she locked herself out."

~Placebo

Please Save This Dog From Hell

A collegue of mine is going to take her dog to the shelter if she can't find a new home for him. His name is Mick. He's a Cattle Dog Mix. The owner describes him as a wonderful, smart and loyal dog, but adds,"more energetic and time intensive than we can handle." I would really hate to see this dog sent to a shelter, so I'm hoping that someone will see this sweet face and adopt him. He's currently living in Colorado. I don't know if he's "fixed" or how old he is, but if you email me, I will get you in touch with the current owner. Here's another picture, my email addy will follow.



chibirisu@vegemail.com
Please use the words "Adopt Mick" in your subject heading.

Welcome to Hell, Pig and Girl

I've just spend I dunno how many hours reading every single strip in this comic. It freakin' rocks! Of course, now I feel like telling bad jokes and beating people up.

The Tomato From Hell

Make A GLOWING TOMATO ! - video powered by Metacafe

There is No Pee In Hell

I just walked into a bathroom stall,
unzipped my zipper,
started to undo the button above,
and wondered if I'd been walking around all day with my fly down.
Then, I remembered that I'd just unzipped it a millisecond ago.

I really need to stop smoking crack on my lunches.

Gettin' Geeky in Hell

Apparently, my Computer Programmer Nickname is:

LapTop Dancer

at least, according to this.

More Lyrics From Hell

You're a canary ~ I'm a coal mine.

~ Fallout Boy

Tagging In Hell

Great. The one day in a long while that I've been over to visit ghost and what happens? I get tagged. Just great.

each player lists 8 facts about themselves, the rules of the game appear before the facts do, the player ends by tagging 8 people.

Neko Fact #1: I rarely drink anything that doesn't have either caffine or alcohol in it.

Neko Fact #2: I pay $19.00 a month for a membership to a gym I never visit.

Neko Fact #3: I'm not sure if I can cut it in this web design class I payed for.

Neko Fact #4: I despise the homeless.

Neko Fact #5: I won't kiss anyone who's just eaten meat.

Neko Fact #6: I can't stop spending money.

Neko Fact #7: I've hated smoking for years and I can't quit.

Neko Fact #8: I'm working on a new painting that I'm afraid to show anyone.

The only problem, ghost, is that I don't know 8 people! So, I guess, whomever might be reading this - you're tagged! (if you have a blog and unless you've already done this) Who am I kidding?! There aren't eight people who read Little Tragedies!!

The Invitation From Hell

You're Invited!

What: A Party
Where: My Pants
Who: Everyone

Another Great Artist Who Lives in Hell

Small Change (Got Rained on With His Own .38)

Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight,
And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the marquees weren't weeping, they went stark-raving mad,
And the cabbies were the only ones that really had it made
And his cold trousers were twisted, and the sirens high and shrill,
And crumpled in his fist was a five-dollar bill
And the naked mannequins with their Cheshire grins,
And the raconteurs and roustabouts said "Buddy, come on in, 'cause
'Cause the dreams ain't broken down here now, they're walking with a limp
Now that Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight"
And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the burglar alarm's been disconnected,
And the newsmen start to rattle
And the cops are telling jokes about some whorehouse in Seattle
And the fire hydrants plead the Fifth Amendment
And the furniture is bargains galore
But the blood is by the jukebox on an old linoleum floor
And what a hot rain on Forty-Second Street,
And now the umbrellas ain't got a chance
And the newsboy's a lunatic with stains on his pants, 'cause
'Cause Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight
And no one's gone over to close his eyes
And there's a racing form in his pocket,
Circled "Blue Boots" in the third
And the cashier at the clothing store didn't say a word
As the siren tears the night in half, and someone lost his wallet
Well, a surveillance of assailance, it that's what you want to call it
And the whores hike up their skirts and fish for drug-store prophylactics
With their mouths cut just like razor blades and their eyes are like stilettos
And her radiator's steaming and her teeth are in a wreck, and nah,
She won't let you kiss her, but what the hell do you expect?
And the Gypsies are tragic and if you want to buy perfume,
Well, they'll bark you down like carneys, sell you Christmas cards in June, but
But Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight
And his headstone's a gumball machine,
No more chewing gum or baseball cards or overcoats or dreams
Someone's hosing down the sidewalk, and he's only in his teens, 'cause
'Cause Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight
And a fistful of dollars can't change that,
And someone copped his watch fob, and someone got his ring
And the newsboy got his porkpie Stetson hat
And the tuberculosis old men at the Nelson wheeze and cough
And someone will head south until this whole thing cools off, 'cause
'Cause Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight, yeah,
Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight

~~Tom Waits