Painter, I don't even know her!

Calling all my artist peeps. Peep this:
http://www.deepellumtexas.com/art.php

Deep Ellum sculptures and murals are finally getting a much needed makeover thanks to the Farmer's Market TIF fund. As you can see, some of the art over in Art Park is pretty ca-reepy.

What's she doing anyway? Well, if you don't find this mural as "touching" as the original artist did, submit your ideas to repaint one of the sculptures (especially the one above!) in Art Park.

Do your part to de-creep Deep Ellum. Maybe by the time the green line opens up there'll be something to go to Deep Ellum for.

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Subject: Mini Kiss just ate the last bagel

In 2005 I was living the high (mediocre) life in the city of Angels, L.A. working in this business we (they, or someone) called show. I wasn't just working in television, I was working in live television. And as if that wasn't enough of a chaotic setting for a great story for you, I also happened to be working for the first (yes, FIRST EVER) GLBTQ television network, appropriately called: Q Television Network with absolutely no experience. The details of how I found myself living in LA as a fresh college senior dropout from the tiny little hipster hotspot of Denton, TX will come later; because rest assured, I had no lifelong desire to work in production. I was a poetry major after all. On this particular sunny day I'm sitting in my office, with my staff (yes, at 23 I had a STAFF! Small, but still...) when I receive an email on my Sidekick. The sender was Jon, a new friend I'd made who worked in acquisitions. The subject was: Mini Kiss just ate the last bagel. The b...

Morning pick me up

So it's Tuesday at 6:14 a.m. I am a rockstar. I am jogging with my dog, plowing through my novel's plot points in my head and feeling fan-bloody-tastic. And thennnn..... my alarm goes off. I snooze for the next hour while my pudgy dog snores next to me. After the 6th snooze button, I hoist myself off of the bed and down the hall to clean all the only-in-my-dreams exercise sweat off. As the foamy white toothpaste drips down my chin I think of old people. Old people eating breakfast. I don't usually eat breakfast. Will I ever be old if I don't like breakfast? Are there old people that don't eat breakfast? Surely not. Bruce (my faithful corgi mix) flops his body down with a fleshy thud at my feet. The rush of air from his flop blew the thoughts of old people and breakfast from my head and I leave them suspended in the bathroom near the stacks of washcloths. I grab Bruce's leash and let him lead the way around the neighborhood. As I'm passing the Hillary '08...

What an @s$hole

I found Bruce rather by accident about 6 years ago while running errands for my grieving grandmother. She had just lost her third child (of six) and asked me to deliver various payments and run general errands around town. I found myself at the florist placing orders for the funeral, painfully selecting "elegant but not too flashy" thank you cards, dropping a check off for an urn, and lastly paying the gas bill (Don't be late! That's due! {not for another two weeks it wasn't} It'll ruin my credit if I'm late!) My grandmother was the queen of early. She had me convinced that my inspection and registration stickers actually expired the month PRIOR to what the sticker indicates. I would hurriedly rush to the mechanic for an inspection on the 31st of the month, out of breath- "Please don't take me to jail!" My college roommate discovered what I'd been doing and she set the record straight. Ironically, empowered with this new lackadaisy atti...

Angela Types

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