My entertainment is far less than one might imagine for a guy living in Lipstick City. Understand, I'm not complaining but it is weirdly funny that drinking wine from a coffee mug and doodling on a Saturday night is my version of "steppin' out." Naturally this occurs after Hockey Night in Canada which, coincidentally, reminds me of being a young teen in the burbs wanting to get out but not having the means to do so. Even if I did, where would I have gone in Detroit? Too young for clubs, but when I did come of age, none of the joints were places I'd want to be caught dead in. I had a ton of angst and wanted to see the Dead Kennedy's or the Circle Jerks but instead was offered grade D versions of Thin Lizzy. Ann Arbor was the only place to go to get any hint of diversity. It's sad to see the motor city is worse off today than 30 years ago -- year after year civic leaders would put forth ideas on how to revitalize the city. What a hell-hole. I wish I could be surprised by its continued demise but when its main industry pumps out crappy designs/product for 40 years, there's little to expect other than doom. Sad for the people who really have tried to make a difference.

Embarrassed I haven't done much lately so I'm dumptrucking various notebook sketches just so March doesn't disappear without any entries. You find your motivation wherever you can...

My old friend, Andrea, recently resurfaced while I've been developing Futurama figures for Kid Robot, and, naturally the two came together. Well, I coulda pushed it a helluva more than this but it is what it is.

The Masked Nu-Nu.

This is Mister Nu-Nu and he's merely a concept inspired by my son, Oliver. Unlike our first child, Oliver loves his pacifier. Whenever there's more drama than his 22 month old brain can handle, he winces and whines for his "nu-nu." It's going to be a problem weaning him off the thing but, for now, it's his answer to life's kryptonite and our chance to take a breath before deciding what to do next. So I got to thinking maybe there's something more interesting that can be done with a pacifier like making a family of vinyl pacifier dolls. I'm thinking collectible art, not actual baby accessories requiring mountains of paperwork due to government regulations. In any event, there's some real potential to design some good stuff with this...

This is a Fink-inspired Bart concept that never got farther than what you see here. I like it a lot but I can't argue with the decision that it's just too aggressive for a boy, who by nature, is too much of an underachiever to ever behave like this.

This is a painting I did for our department's 2008 holiday party gift exchange. Usually, folks get to choose from booze, reading lights, gift cards, whoopee cushions or cheese with the price tag still attached. No one ever goes home disappointed. But do they go home happy? Knowing the quality of my work is comparable in cost to a wedge of gouda, I decided painting a little something is potentially more fun than receiving one of the aforementioned gifts. It's also a bit more satisfying than re-gifting a nose-hair trimmer.

In any event, I did paint this but I'm not completely comfortable with calling it a "painting" which, in some ways, suggests it's a work of art. It's really nothing more than a tiny manifestation of my brain. No great meaning. I don't even have a title for it. It's more of an exercise. However, I do have a small fascination that it could end up in a coffee table book as evidence that I developed my talents further than anyone could have imagined. And there you have it: a goal.

It was Jennifer's birthday yesterday and I decided to abolish her straight hair for something circa 1976 last seen pressed up against Kristofferson's chest.

So for any of you who have been in a fever to find out what happened with the logo for the "I Dig Your Boyfriend" volleyball team, well, here it is. I decided the gopher was too cute no matter how perverted I made him. Naturally, I turned to the passionate intemperance of the unicorn to broadcast the team's commitment to winning. Combined with the heritage of a respected crest, this team has likely won their match long before touching the sand.