Sorry about the lack of posts...just been extremely busy lately...and I'm running out of old art to share with you. That's the problem with the illustration world...most of your very best stuff is sold and belongs to someone else. You draw something, sell it, then rarely ever see it again.

I will try to post more often...but I can't really say with hat frequency it will be.

You don't have to be a great artist to be an artist...I've known some very successful artists that couldn't draw a straight line on their best day...
the fact is no matter how good or how bad it is, when it comes to art, someone will like it and someone else will hate it...
I've drawn pictures for clients that I personally thought were sub-par, but...that's what they wanted, that's what they liked, and who am I to argue.
So...if you like to draw, to paint, to air-brush, or whatever media you prefer, and someone comes along and goes ' Eeewwwww, that's awful! ' what 10 minutes and someone else will come by and say ' Geee, hey, that's pretty good! '
The worst critic is usually the artist him/her self...personally, I have never drawn anything I have been completely satisfied with...there is always something I could have done better or improved upon...
the day I draw the perfect piece...is the day there is no more ground to improve upon...once you have that perfect piece...where else do you go?

peace,

Eg ;)

I am right now at the point where I am trying to determine what to do with these blogs...with a new website and forums it is difficult to find the time for everything...but it's not a simple decision...I hope to keep these blogs open but at this point in time I just don't know if that will be possible.

We shall see...and hope for the best.

Eg ;0

As an art form illustration isn't something normally considered fine art or wall art...but...it's not supposed to be either.

As an art form it has it's own qualifications and it's own little nitch.

It can be subtle or quite dramatic, simple or complex; it can be a pencil drawing or a colorful piece of art made with anything from charcoal to watercolors.

It was the first of all art...from the cave drawings to the word-art of the ancient Egyptians.

It's amazing the difference between how Canadians and Americans veiw High School Sports...

In Canada they are virtually looked upon the same as Grade School sports...you're lucky if there's 80 people in the stands...and they're all related to the players or connected to the team.

In America they are veiwed with the same excitement as College sports...there can be 1000's of people in the stands...all hyped-up and into it...like they're watching the Super Bowl.

All the best to you and yours!

Eg ;)

Two More Two tales this time really, rolled into one:

This weekend's excitement came at 10 till 4 this morning when I'd just finished selling one of my morning regulars his newspaper. While he was in the store, a black Nissan Titan rolled up and parked at an odd angle in the lot, right near where this customer was parked.

The customer exited the store and was in the process of returning to his vehicle when the new arrival beckoned him over and spoke to him. A few seconds later the customer again came inside and asked me to phone the police for an ambulance. At this point I noticed the driver of the nissan attempting quite unsuccessfully to exit his vehicle. He looked as if he'd been beaten within an inch of his natural life.

Suffice it to say that, at 4am, when the boss arrived, the presence of 5 police cars and one ambulance had her somewhat shaken.

The rest of the story: Joe Victim had been out hustling pool. He had several thousand dollar's worth of custom pool cues in his truck, and a huge wad of cash. He'd obviously been winning this evening. Now Joe Victim wasn't a small man, quite huge in fact, but the three guys he'd beaten at pool decided they were sore losers and decided to try their luck against the big guy. He got the best of 2 of them, but the third got him in the back, where he'd had back surgery...

Joe Victim had lost motor control of the left side of his body and couldn't feel his legs when he arrived at our store. He was taken via ambulance to the hospital and treated.

This one's a bit dated, having occurred about 4 days after Katrina. Episode 3 - Be Prepared

It was a hot, dry, dusty afternoon outside as I stood working the 1pm-9pm, the toughest shift for the store all week. It's me, myself, and I manning the register, listening to the complaints of ultra high gas prices, and comiserating with the customers about both the price of petrol and the weather. Typical Saturday, I thought to myself as I ring out yet another faceless, nameless customer. Then they roll up in my parking lot. All 15 vehicles of them, ranging from a Lexus SUV down to an old beater Ford 150 pickup truck. They're one family. They're tanking up gas, and buying out all the supplies they can get their hands on in my store including all my ice and all my bottled water. Their destination: New Orleans, Louisiana.

Now this put me pretty busy for a bit. You see, there were 40 or so of them ranging from Grandma and Grandpa down to preteen grandkids. I asked them why they were attempting to return so soon, and got my response from Pa, who was obviously the boss of this motley group. "My family owns a business down there and we're going to protect it from the looters. You wouldn't happen to know where we can get more ammunition between here and there do ya?"

I blinked and answered in the negative, not having had the need of ammo save for hunting in years now, then inquired politely after their armaments as if actually taking interest. Pa has his eldest son pull the tarp back from the bed of his pickup truck. There's a .50 caliber machine gun, several Soviet AK-47's and US M-16's lovingly crated in the back along with various caliber rifles and pistols. "Man, you guys are pretty serious about this, aren't you?" I asked, an honest look of amazement across my face. "Yep, since that (expletive deleted) Bush isn't doin nothin, we figured we'd handle it ourselves." "Good luck to you." I responded and returned to my work.

I can't say I blame them for wanting to protect their property at all costs. I sincerely hope they can actually get into New Orleans proper; I've heard the roads in are all closed up.

I honestly hope they don't have to kill anyone, but if they do, they're very well prepared.

Ice

Now the Second Story!

Our favorite K9 Officer Friendly was one of the officers that worked this scene. He's the same one that officially 'collared' my car thief from the last time I spoke of things along these lines.. Now after it was all over, Officer Friendly entered the store to get his soda and have a mini-bs session with my boss and I. During the course of this he remembered his favorite 'dumb criminal' tale, which he freely shared:

He'd arrived for a restroom break at a store about 2 miles from mine. When he pulled in, there was a Hispanic male outside looking VERY agitated, jumping up and down and screaming.

Turns out this Hispanic male was travelling, and had given a ride to a female he'd met at one of his fuel stops from there to our lovely town. On arriving at the scene, the female had called her boyfriend and they'd all sat down outside to enjoy a cold beer and smoke some of the illegal herb he was carrying in quantity to his final destination.

Nature called. Our favorite Hispanic excused himself to go to the restroom. When he returned, the couple was gone, and so was the bag of SEVERAL HUNDRED pounds of dope from his trunk.

He wanted the cops to recover his stolen dope...

Ice

So there was this drunk... Saturday a couple of weeks ago I had the dubious pleasure of working the afternoon/early evening shift. It was hot, as Texas weather usually is during the late summer, so we were selling massive quantities of beer. Amidst the hustle and bustle of rapid fire transactions I looked out into the busy intersection outside our store, there to see a pickup truck stalled out, hood open, and a guy wandering up in my parking lot.

Now next door to us there's this 10 minute oil change place, with those wonderful 6 dollar an hour would-be mechanics working in it. You know the ones - pretty nice guys actually, but not quite the brightest bulbs in the box. To me they were steady customers like everyone else, only they get free refills on their sodas and in exchange leave their greasy footprints all over my nice, clean floor.

Anyway so the guy comes wandering up just as the youngest oil tech comes over for his (once every 10 minutes all day long) soda refill. He proceeds to offer "Squirrely" (as I like to call him - he acts like one) 10 bucks to get the truck out of the intersection and help him fix it. Squirrel, seeing a profit of almost 2 hours of his labor agrees to help. They work their way back into traffic.

Just then Officer Friendly (remember officer friendly from the last post? Same guy) comes rolling up behind the truck and turns on his lights. Now it gets interesting.

I tend to a few more customers who are in a hurry to get their beer and get back to watching ballgames on their teevees and ignoring their rugrats (who'll come in later begging coins to buy candy with), then turn back to see everything gone. No cop car, no truck, no Squirrel, no Officer Friendly, no guy. Hrm. This is odd. It's only been a couple of minutes. I walk out front for a smoke.

Now there's a blind side of my c-store where I can't see from the inside or in front of the store. It's a parking area. We call it 'robber parking' since it's a favorite hangout of local drug dealers, shoplifters, potential robbers, and those who prefer I not see their vehicle. I always look over into robber parking when I'm outside smoking to make sure nothing too dangerous is going on. I looked, and there was the truck, half in and half out of my back driveway, cop in front, and another in the rear. One's doing a field sobriety test on our hero, while Officer Friendly and his dog are searching the cab. "Hey, this one's getting good." I think to myself as I stroll back to the front doors so as not to be too obvious in my curiosity. I finish another drag of my smoke and up drives yet another customer so I ditch it and go back inside.

It turns into a rush, so I don't get to go back out and gawk. No matter, Squirrely and Officer Friendly enter the store about 20 minutes later. I get the details. Turns out our hero was involved in a hit and run about 3 blocks down. It was bad enough to cause his truck to overheat and stall out at the intersection. Once the truck had cooled enough, it was easily started and driven (by Squirrel) into our parking lot (sort've - I told you he wasn't the brightest bulb in the box already didn't I?) and the entire parade moved over here. To make matters worse the guy was completely hammered on whiskey and beer, which he was more than willing to throw up all over my otherwise reasonably clean parking lot during the investigation. The icing on the cake was the gram of methamphetamine and half ounce of weed Ali (Officer Friendly's dog) so easily found in the cab. Ooops.

Ok, I hosed off the puke, but I got my revenge by proxy - another drunk's off the street.

ice

Greetings and Hallucinations Kudos to the Eggman for getting the ball rolling with this wonderful occasional Blog. Being the lazy kinda guy I am combined with putting in entirely too many hours at my job in the C-Store, and the fact that I've never considered doing one for myself until he suggested it, set it up, and invited me to post here, well...Thanks Bro!

And now without further fluff, I give you:

Tales from the Convenience Store.

My name is unimportant. My job, however, is. I provide you with day to day necessities including sustenance, petrol, ice for your cooler, and refreshment. In return, you provide my company with a small (or sometimes large as the case may be) amount of cash, and me with endless entertainment. I deal with people from all walks of life, from the most wealthy millionaires, to the construction worker on the street, to the local crack whores and other dregs of society. I am the eyes and the ears of your community. Not one thing happens near your home without me knowing about it or silently witnessing it, all the while keeping a smile on my face and providing you with your late night cravings. Yes, I'm the clerk at your local convenience store. I take the abuse you dish out, sometimes handing it right back, sometimes taking it, or if you get too moronic with me I might even throw you out of the store, verbally or bodily, or even call the police on you. I thank you for your complements while cleaning up your trash and the other messes you carelessly leave behind you, wondering if it's truly a 'nesting thing' when women leave shredded bits of toilet paper all over the bathroom floor and laughing heartily when a customer comments on the pretty girl that just walked out and how I'm lucky to have such a job. I gloat a bit during the summer months when the temperatures outside get up over 100 and I'm cool as a cucumber inside, and growl at the weather when thunderstorms blow my trashcans out into the highway leaving me yet another mess to clean. I am psychiatrist, bartender, social worker, employment agent, bodyguard, and best friend all rolled into one, but nobody ever really knows my name or who I really am.

Episode 1 - Don't piss off the clerk.

So one moonlit Saturday evening I was working my graveyard shift and hustling to get my customers well taken care of, up drives this guy to my gas pump number 1. Now this wouldn't be too terribly noteworthy save that good old number 1 had its hose ripped out earlier by an unwary patron who forgot to hang it up and drove off with it still dangling from their gas tank. Needless to say the pump was out of commission, and the guy was noted by me to be obviously drunk, stoned, or otherwise moronic.

We'll call the guy Joe Schmuck.

Joe gets out of his car and proceeds to bother some of my inbound customers asking them for money (we call it panhandling around here). This is a HUGE no-no because it drives off business. One of my customers complains to me, giving me the full 'go ahead' by our company's policy to call the police on poor Joe.

Joe doesn't realize that I'm on the phone with police dispatch as he enters the store and pays for 2 dollars in gas with some money he's just gotten from a customer. I take his money, set him up on a different pump, tell him which it is and why, and he exits the store. All the while police dispatch is keeping me on the line.

Now this is unusual. The dispatcher normally takes information, alerts the local beat officer, and hangs up. It's pretty weird that she's staying on the line with me. I decide to keep a very sharp eye on Joe since something's obviously up.

Joe finishes pumping his gas and tries to exit the driveway. Since our store is set on a corner of a busy intersection it's difficult to get into traffic. Since 18-wheelers frequently use both roads, and there's a red-light, and Joe's trying to turn left, well, we can pretty much guess that he gets blocked in by the big truck waiting on the light to turn green. Dispatch advises me there are units entering my parking lot from the other side and to let her know when they nab him.

Out of nowhere 5 (Yes, FIVE) police cars pull up, lights on and sirens blaring, and they take poor Joe down at gunpoint and haul him quickly away to jail.

This is pretty steep for just a drunk panhandler...

After the clean-up efforts, the K-9 officer that was working the case enters the store to get himself a free coffee and discuss the case with me and what I'd witnessed. With him is a plainclothes detective who was also in on the arrest. Turns out Joe was in a car he'd stolen about 2 hours prior and there was an all points bulletin out on him. Oops.

Moral of the story:
If you're going to steal a car, DO NOT piss off the clerk where you're buying your get-away gas!

Cya next time,
Ice

Whether you believe that Jesus was an actual person...or is a god...or just a made up legend to convert the masses to a new religion...or a man turned into a legend...a martyr...a saviour...a friend...an icon...

it really does not change the message that either he taught...his father taught through him...or that was made up around him...

so...even though men may disagree on the details of his life...the message of peace, love, and compassion is a message we should aspire toward and revere not only this time of year...but every day, all year, throughout the days of our lives.

Peace, and may you have a safe and happy holiday season...and may that happiness resound throughout the rest of your lives.

Eg ;)

Not too long ago blogs were little more than an on-line journal of one's thoughts and life...a public version of the locked diaries that young girl's hid under the bed so their brothers wouldn't read them.

Nowadays...blogs are much more than diaries...virtually every political party, news service, information site has either a blog alone or as an extension of their website...

it still serves it's original purpose with millions of bloggers...but...it has prospered to the point where if it is not on par with websites it is quickly catching up to them.

Our blogs are a reflection of this changing attitude...different in look, different in feel, and different in purpose, our blogs are much more than journals, and have the non-commercial aspects of many websites.

"Changing the face of the blogging world one blog at a time"...Administrators Blog

isn't just a statement in fact with us...it's our pleasure! :D

Eg ;)