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Off The Wall.
After that well-received demonstration, Gary’s taxidermy business, though criminal, took off considerably.
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Class Pet.
It was all giggles and sunshine in Classroom 4B until Fred had the tip of his ring finger bitten off by the starving class pet.
“That’ll teach them for feeding me Alpo,” laughed Buttons the guinea pig, his mouth full of the warm taste of coppery blood.
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Back In Black, Bitchez.
Well, if you care at all, I have been on a 2 month hiatus because of writer’s block and because I nearly had a hard drive tragedy, averted by my kind friend Joey. The fog has lifted now and I’ll be posting every day henceforth.
We’re in our FIFTH year of madness! I’m not sure if that’s a testament to Mad Vortex’s staying power or because I have too many shitty pictures to mock. Either way, it’s quite an accomplishment.
A belated happy 31st birthday to Dear Leader, who has been a most generous benefactor.
Also a wedding congratulations to Mad Vortex writer Josh Korwin and his lovely bride-to-be, Alyssa Zukas, who perpetually kick ass and take names. They also had the most amazing wedding invitation I’ve ever seen, which makes me incredibly sorry to miss the nuptials themselves.
What has Celia Pleete been up to in this interim? Well, trying to make some mothereffin scratch, y’all.
Check out my online Etsy shop. I’m selling all sortsa shit, including imagery from the Mad Vortex, necklaces of old cookbooks, and much more. You know you want a piece of the action.
I also took a writing class through Second City, the second level improv class at UCB, and have been taking my wares to the streets to earn money for more improv classes. I am also making fun of art school on a daily basis and trying to forget the brainwashing that 10 years of art school instilled.
Anyway, back to the crap.
Love ya,
Celia Pleete
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Occupational hazard
Anti Monkey Butt Powder
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Wistful Dreaming.
Would her prince EVER come? thought Diana the scullery maid, clutching her bouquet of dead daffodils tight to her bosom, and dreaming of a day where her chamber pot-emptying career would be over, forever.
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