Ah, it's that time of year when I get to make up silly things for the holidays and scribble my insane thoughts for you to enjoy sending to your loved ones. Between bouts of the baby's icky illness and my real life, this is one of the cards I did for the holidays. I have more coming up, but for whatever reason, my brain was stuck on Christmas first - so I did those. I fixed up a couple of Halloween cards, which my sister and I will put on our site soon.
I feel like I've been battling the ideas in my head..I've been working on a story I hope you will enjoy, I am taking my time to make sure I do it right. It just takes so long...but it will be worth it! However, nefarious little pictures pop up in the middle of my doing this and I end up doing three pictures at one time. Someone brought up an idea - she wants to order a series of my reprints, about 16 of them in postcard size. Would you guys order something like this?

If you'd like to see more of Creepymama's artwork, please visit her and her sister, Olivia the Dollmaker at :
StagiWorks

What the blog???

Geez, so many people get offended when you drop the f-bomb a few times in a blog. But isn't a blog by definition, an online journal and not just the money-making, job getting, freebie giving away thing it's become now? I am not the best writer, I know that for a fact. But I like to make people laugh and I was feeling a little anti-appliance and wrote the blog. I was trying to turn lemons into a lemonade martini. Because that's the way I was feeling. I won't apologize for it.
And like anything else, if you don't like what's on tv, radio, etc - don't watch, listen or read it. Too fucking bad if you don't like it. What I found really interesting was that my stats went WAY up on that blog. It almost took away the sting of what those two bone-heads wrote in to me. I'm not going to say or quote those two because I'm not going to give them an audience here. However, I feel I should point a few things just so we are clear -

1. Just because I use the word, 'fuck' or 'goddamn' doesn't make me an idiot or a writer who can't write. Never said I was a good/great writer. This is an online journal and I'm using it so you get to know me and my art. The most I hope for is that I spell shit correctly.

2. I like to make it a little interesting. I get tired of those boring blogs that are sanitized for human consumption. Who the hell cares?

3. I used the PMS angle because I am a woman and this is funny to me. If we can get something funny out of our periods besides cramps and tampons, I'm all for it. It's not vulgar (if it is to you, please read line 6)The next time you have a uterus, gentlemen, feel free to comment.


If you'd like to see more of Creepymama's artwork, please visit her and her sister, Olivia the Dollmaker at :
StagiWorks

Sexy Beast

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. If not, have more beer. Or some such bullshit my mother told me.

This week has been at a loss with all my appliances issues - I'm finally going to get chance to start all this tonight..I'll be working these next two weeks on the idea of beauty and how I can twist it to fit my creepy little paintings. I've been working on this one painting of mine - doing the research and this little lady popped in my head. She's not the main focus by any means, but it got me thinking of all the things we women do to be beautiful. 

Now, do witches add warts? Do Ogresses apply Eau De Stink? Do Vampires get their teeth sharpened?  

Do you go in to get your creepy weave tangled?  If you'd like to see more of Creepymama's artwork, please visit her and her sister, Olivia the Dollmaker at :

StagiWorks

Where is the goddamn Merlot?

I should have known something was up. My hairdryer blew out three weeks ago. Little did I know the heinous fuckery the universe had in store for me. My thoughtful husband then replaced it two weeks later. In the mean time, my friend Jodie, in all her coiffed-ness, said, "You're killing me." 
But I thought, eh, no big deal, it was just the hairdryer.
Oh, no, it wasn't just the hairdryer. All my appliances began to hate me. It was like they all decided to have a PMS day. The day I started using my new hair dryer, the garbage disposal took a turn for the worse. It started leaking and I swear I head it cry, "OMG! You expect me to crush this!! After all those things I've done for you, the leftover salad dregs, no, this is NOT HAPPENING!"
I got it Midol and a glass of Merlot.
"NO! I WILL NOT BE BOUGHT OFF! YOU LET THAT LITTLE CHEAP HARLOT DRY YOUR HAIR! WHY NOT ME? WHY???"
I was a little worried. But I'm from a family of do it yourselfers (mostly in the form of duct tape and hot glue) and I thought. 'Yeah, I can handle that.' I armed myself with my tools and the internet, intent on fixing our little problem. Two hours later, we still couldn't get the damn thing off the sink. I disabled the right side of the sink to the kids and decided to tackle it later. Turned out to be one week later, but I finally got to tackle it on Saturday morning, I started my laundry first and BOOM! The washer has a bitch fit. "FUCK YOU! BLANKETS? ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!?!?! I'M BLOATED AND FAT AND YOU GIVE ME FUCKING BLANKETS! WHERE IS THE GODDAMN MERLOT?"
Water is all over. Three hours and three floods later, I realize the moisture sensor is bad. Okay, we can replace that. Easy! Oh yeah, maybe I can pick up the part tomorrow in San Jose when I go see my parents and drop off two of my four children to hang for a couple of days. They are an hour and half away, just enough distance and time for me to miss them without feeling guilty.
When I get  up the following morning, I discover my Tia Maria has arrived and the athlete's foot I'm fighting (thanks kids! ah, the joys of parenthood) is almost unbearable. As I'm driving, guess what? The car is in on it too! "BITCH, YOU THINK I'M JUST GONNA LET YOU DRIVE ME ALL OVER? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU ARE DOING TO MY TREADS? I JUST GOT THESE BITCHES AND YOU'RE GIVING ME HOOKER HOOVES! HELL NO! GET ME A CHOCOLATE BAR NOW!"
By the time I chug to my parents' house, the kids are ready to flee the scene before some bad shit goes down. Except for Pottymouth, he's probably got a video camera and can't wait to post Mommy's meltdown on YouTube.
My mother took one look at me, saw the steam from my ears and I blurt out everything to her and she says, "We can fix that. No sweat. I think I have an extra garbage disposal. Are you going to the doctor? You should go for the foot thing."
Yeah, my parents are those parents. They are not hoarders exactly, more like an orphanage for Home Depot. Not in a bad way, they don't keep everything, some appliances go to good homes and a few are adopted by Brangelina (it must be genetic, I have an extra dryer in my garage).
My dad pops in and say, "No, I think I have a new garbage disposal still in the box. What foot thing?"
They even have an extra washer. Not that I need one and I decline, but I'm more concerned about my bitch tripping car. By the end of the day, my car is fixed, I'm driving home with two garbage disposals and some steaks, because I think, according to my dad, meat will also fix everything. My father gives me a hug and I'm grateful that he thinks meat will fix everything - I really didn't want to cook dinner.

If you'd like to see more of Creepymama's artwork, please visit her and her sister, Olivia the Dollmaker at :
StagiWorks

Where's the potty?!?

The time-honored rite of parenthood know as potty-training is upon us! I am heading towards potty-training my last child, it's been years, but teaching a little human how to use the facilities is no small feat. Beefy hasn't been too interested in going himself, but he seems to be investigating how my husband pees, how I pee, how his brothers pee, how to flush the toilet and even better, what can I flush down the toilet? He's even telling us when he's done the dirty deed, "POOP!!!!!" 

But has no interest in actually sitting on the can, that might take some time out from stealing crayons from Marc's craft desk. However, my sister is starting to teach my nephew the glories of the john and I just giggle, because this is her first round. I've been through three kids, the first is always the hardest. My oldest took awhile, but my second found the pee-glee of pissing on the tree in the backyard. It wasn't until I found a massive poop in the backyard (we had no dog) that I had to reign him in and explain the poop rules. The following is the text messages we've been having about it:

Violet: Potty training: 2 accidents so far, I think by the end of this the whole house will smell like pee.

Me: Rocky and E-man can compete to mark territory.

Violet: HAHAHA

Violet: Potty Training lesson I learned today: Take to potty right after dinner. Big poop and pee in his pants. I feel like a dummy for not thinking of this.

Me: Rookie! hahahahaa

Violet: LOL! I just spent 5 minutes pouring water on his wiener to get him to pee in the toilet. This is my life. 

Me: Please lock this message so u can remember it fondly. 

Violet: I will 

Me: The one thing I hated was when you had to cut them off of juice by a certain time of night. They always acted like they just got back from the Sahara.

Violet: LMAO!!! 

Me: Or the innocent face when you ask them, and they clearly smell like shit, "Did you wipe?" 

Oh Nurse! What the -

My sister Violet inspired this piece, it's one of favorites. I always pictured the extreme glee she must take in giving obnoxious children shots. Blithely ignorant of her blood-spattered smock, she gives them leeches or vile-smelling brew made with some rodent part as a cure for something as minor as a splinter.

I know for a fact her job is not this exciting, but I like to use my imagination.

Come see this work and others at our shop: StagiWorks

The Sign

I look for signs to keep me on my path because sometimes I tend to get a little crazy with some ideas. This is the downfall sometimes with a creative mind. I've been contemplating this little love story, wondering if it's worth doing. I have a notebook filled with names, stories, ideas, sketches, etc. While this is going on, I agreed to throw a little love at our entrepid editor at Under The Juniper Tree because she's the goddamn bomb for putting all our horrific skills to the test monthly when I realized, I really didn't know much about her.
However, the universe provided in the form of of mutual disgust for Lori from the Walking Dead.

This is my love to Bree who makes us all look good and doesn't mind slicing someone's head off. Bree said she loved it! I love when people love my stuff - all artists love it!
During my contemplation of what to paint for Bree, inspiration smacked me again. Was it worth doing? And I think, if I don't travel down this road, I won't learn anything. Just paint it! It'll be fun!  So while my evil co-worker at my 9 to 5 job, Ray and I were laughing over some wicked work by Gris Grimly - the Grimified Popeye - and I couldn't get this out of my mind. Emo Olive Oil.

Gris is my favorite artist, hands down. I posted this on his FB, and got two comments from him today. I can only hope to be as good someday. So I'm dancing around the living room like a crazy person - Beefy is laughing and dancing with me (he doesn't care, Mom is happy!) while my husband is looking at me because he knows and is suffering right along with me artistically. I am over the moon.
I think it was the sign - the little love story in my head might be worth doing....

My Morning - Boy Smell & the Coffee Crisis

Rolled out of bed, scurried to the kitchen, briefly gagged at the boy funkitude emitting from my oldest son's room - only to discover that there was no coffee made!
Does my Beefsteak have a death wish? I wonder, then feel guilty because my poor hubby has to go in early. Searched the cabinets - woohoo! Instant espresso!
Properly caffeinated, I get ready - vaguely wondering of those are old chick spots on my hands and maybe I need to get my eyes checked. I sprint through the house plaguing my children with the light switch and a "Get up! Brush Your Teeth!"
Grumbling, smelly beings crawl from their rooms and beat each other senseless over who get the bathroom first. Type A, Pottymouth and Dramaqueen argue about toothbrush usage and who the hell hid the toilet paper?!?  I walk blissfully by because I have to go wake the Baby Beefy. He is a cute little fart and a total cock blocker. This is what happens when you let the baby sleep with you. He used to smell like baby, now he's starting to smell like the rest of those midgets who live with me. As I convince him he needs to get up, I then remember the name of the baby mama from a conversation from three days ago at work. Bridgett Monahan!
I load the monsters in the van and proceed to drop everyone off - three separate stops! Of course Type A is
laughing at Pottymouth (whose mouth is off and running with colorful language! Fucking A!) and Dramaqueen is busy dancing like a mad person in the back seat to that hooker nut job, Britney Spears. Beefy screams as his BBq chip hook-up, Pottymouth has exited the car and left him high and dry.
Baby Beefy being last - I get flipped off by a school bus driver. Yeah, you want me to run over those kids in the cross walk? Who pissed in your cheerios this morning? If you don't like the big bus, get the small one, jerk face.
I race to work while trying to talk to my hubby and then race to the time clock. Only to discover this little fucker needs to be warmed up to clock in. No joke. It doesn't like our Tea Fairy's time card at all. I told the maintenance guy to knit it a sweater so we could clock in on time. After only three tries today, it spits my card out like 90 year old cigarette smoker.
Whew...

And the sewing machine flies out the back door.....

Taking a break from the Nursery Rhymes to fill you all in on what's been going on in Creepymama's dungeon. It's fall  - the kids are back in school, football is in full swing and my brush is flying across paper.
My sister and I finally sold some embrodiary patterns on our site, Project Stockpile - yahoo!!!
While we are working on our lovely venture, I've taken the task of learning how to sew. I'm aiming to bring my creepy little characters to life for some lovely fiend, I mean, child, to sneeze/hold/slobber on. As soon as I finish them, I will let you guys know.
I've discovered the fun of having a new toy/tools to work with. However, given my history with small appliances, I've hit a snag with the ancient sewing machine my sister is kindly letting me use. The other night, the thread kept jamming underneath, strands of thread everywhere, my fabric crumbled, kids giggling at me cursing- then a brief thought - wondering how hard it would be to toss this beast right out the back door?
Now, I come across this trait genetically. I was five, sitting on the back steps of our house when I heard my mother, "Motherf%^er!!!!!"
And our silver toaster flies over my head, landing ten feet from me.
This is the same woman who cried when her 20-year old vacuum cleaner died with a gasp in our living room. It was one of those many tentacled monstrosities of shiney tubes and puke green outer shell. I was never so glad to see something go in my life. As my sister and I can attest - that thing was a pain in the ass to vacuum with. The tubes always fell apart, emptying the bag was like giving the damn thing a transplant - it had to be put on just so or it would not work.
I gave up with the sewing machine and Olivia, my sister came over and fixed it last night so I could continue on my doll-making quest. I'm hoping this evening I can finish my doll - hope you guys like it when I'm done...
Have a creepy day!

You can also visit my art work at my site, M.Stagi's Creepy Family - there is 20% off if you place your order before the 31st!