Thursday, November 06, 2008

on art and flying tiddies

1. When I was in college, I went to visit one of my guy friends at another college. Both he and his roommate were art majors and one of their friends sang a very romantic song about how he loved his girlfriend's thighs using adjectives like "cottage cheese" and "hail damage". Lucky girl. Anyhow, the roommate had a very serious art project going on at the time. Women would come to the apartment, he would apply ample amounts of glow in the dark paint to their bare breasts and then have them press against his bedroom wall. Then they signed their name underneath. You couldn't tell until he turned the black light on and you became surrounded in tiddies of all shapes and sizes. Note to men: Women are way more willing to get naked for you in the name of art.

2. My friend, Ryan, had a post today that reminded me of this girl I used to hate - more on that later. So I commented and he drew this picture:


Lovely moon, Ryan. Very orange-slice like.

I requested Ryan draw:


flying tiddies with a knife through the right breast and a moon shaped like an orange slice to represent the detriment that the objectification of women has on today's youth.


...which gets me back to the girl I hated. There was this girl named Emily. She was my first long-term boyfriend's ex-girlfriend. I never met her. But I hated her. I hated her because my boyfriend was obsessed with her. He had an Emily suitcase that he kept all of her old letters and junk in and she was this really pretty blonde artist girl who would make ridiculous art and then say it stood for something ridiculous. Like she would draw a huge donkey stepping on a roller skate and she would be all, "This represents the malnutrition and abuse that children in Sudan endure on a daily basis" and my boyfriend would be all "CLAPCLAPCLAPthat!!! is!!! amazing!!!!CLAPCLAPCLAP! Omg, she is so deep and inspiring". There was never a more retarder reason for feeling so inadequate while I sat there with my handheld Yachtzee not really giving a shit about the starving kids in Africa.


I am sure glad my current boyfriend finds my boobs and my knack for kicking his ass at Guitar Hero inspiring.
3. Since we are on the subject, I feel it necessary to look back at a poem written in the comments section of one of my posts from a long time ago regarding one of my best friends crazy boobage. Freaking hilarious.

14 Comments:

Blogger Chris said...

Those are the loveliest flying breasts I've ever seen. I'm not even remotely bothered by the wildly inaccurate nipple placements.

11:07 AM  
Blogger Chris Cope said...

Thanks to my Google reader, I know that this post has had three different titles, which is, in itself, art. It is commentary on society's expectation of women to constantly re-invent themselves; the expectation to be so many things at once -- mother, home-maker, businesswoman, virgin, whore.

I am so deeply inspired by this. You move me, Crystal. Or, at least you move that part of me in my trousers.

11:26 AM  
Blogger Crystal said...

chris, i don't think the nipple placements are that off, but you can totally tell by the color of them that ryan is used to looking at boobies from the jersey shore.


chris cope - or i am just really decisive and the words buubs is dumb. and! i am both a virgin! and a whore!

11:41 AM  
Blogger Crystal said...

chris cope - INdecisive i meant INdecisive

11:42 AM  
Blogger Ryan said...

Sorry the boobs aren't better. No one at my office will take their top off for me to be more accurate.

12:40 PM  
Blogger Brandi said...

Did you use the word 'retarder'? And did I actually stop, mid-read, to sound that shit out? Yes, yes I did.

8:28 PM  
Blogger Thomas said...

Hey, you!

4:49 PM  
Blogger Jay said...

I've never been more inspired to become a serial killer.

11:50 AM  
Blogger the projectivist said...

that old boyfriend with the whole ex-girlfriend-obsessed-suitcase-thing sounds like a twat.

i think you were well rid of him, crystal.

far nicer to have a boyfriend who you can thrash on Guitar Hero any day.

5:08 AM  
Blogger Anthony S. said...

I like flying big ol' tiddies. Does that make me part of the problem?

9:11 PM  
Anonymous faux pas said...

Sigh. I wish my boobs could fly.

8:03 PM  
Blogger Red Flashlight said...

I hope you get that it wasn't her, it was him. What a total assmotheshijerk. It's not her fault she's an artist. Just like it's not your fault you're an artist. I'm sure there are a boatload of similarly foolish guys out there waiting in line for their chance to gather a suitcase of mementos about you, to torture some poor future ex-girlfriend with. "Honey, look at this totally totally cool print-out of an armpit that says "relax, it's just my armpit. Isn't that the sweeeeetest most profound artistic statement you ever saw???" (Eyes batting innocently as the knife scrapes a rib on its way in.)

I hope she wasn't me, by the way. That whole donkey thing sounds like something I would have done in art school.

8:48 AM  
Blogger keda said...

yes it does also sound exactly like the kind of crap i did at art school.

however i don't think any of my ex boyfriends could have a suitcase full of letters as i don't write letters. ever.

i do have teeeeeeny weeeeeeny boobs though. and i used to model for life drawing classes when i was at art schhol the student ALWAYS made my boobs at least 3 cup sizes larger. i was never sure whether out of pity, embarrassment or wishful thinking. but i used to LOVE walking around looking at their drawings during my breaks and pointing out that they'd given me grapefruits instead of grapes ;)

7:53 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Where are you??? You are missed :'-(

11:06 AM  

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