Originally I’d wanted to draw a bunch of stuff, because my pet peeves conveniently fit into three categories, I have pet peeves as a ‘New Yorker’, as an ‘artist’ and as a ‘dater.’ These sketches were going to be charming and funny and quaint. This week I was reminded of how annoyed I am by the fact that there aren’t enough hours in the day. Can that be a pet peeve? It’s Thursday morning and If I don’t put something up you’re not going to see anything from me on this topic this week.
As a Dater, which rhymes with hater…. My largest dating pet peeve has to do with men and their need to stare at my boobs. I understand my they’re there, and that they may need to be glanced at from time to time just to make sure that they’re still there. . . Often though, and I mean usually, a guy won’t glance at them, they’ll ogle them. Oh, they’ll catch themselves if that ‘normal, functioning, human,’ part of their brain takes over, and then they’ll look at my face. . . . until they lose that part of their brain again. Sometimes when this happens I’m tempted to flash them, just to see them go into sensory overload.
I have to give credit to the sidelong ogler. It’s less awkward for you to look down my shirt if we’re not expected to make eye contact. Dates to art openings are excellent places to pull this one, guys. Oh wait, you already knew that. . . .
Oh yeah. . . I also hate it when my mom calls me just to ask when I’m going to put up my Illustration Friday post. I especially despise it when she does it in a passive aggressive way, like, “Did you put a drawing up yet? I can’t see your little picture under the categories. You know tomorrow’s Thursday, right?” Okay mom, you can run over to http://www.illustrationfriday.com/ right now. It’s up.
PS. I promise my little blog stalkers that I’ll be back to my sunshine-happy self tomorrow.