i'm having my ashes scattered so no one will remember me inside out

weird art from the cimetière monmartre and environs a week ago. i'm not sure why the spacing's weird on the first couple of images, bear with me.

the torn up red thing on the right is a fat lady in a corset, looking over her shoulder.



















the fat lady is helping her naked friend get dressed for a date with this guy, her fiancé. they aren't in love but decided to get married in the hope that their children would have both faces *and* bodies.

but still no eyes. :(

in the cemetery: live a diva, die a diva.

did you ever see the short 'inside-out boy' on nickelodeon when you were a kid? i did, and it gave me nightmares. anyway, he's all grown up now and addicted to nicotine. *in case it's not clear in the picture: the head is concave. ha, ha.

















exhibited in a gallery window. i may be an ugly american, but at least my forehead isn't made out of ass.

feminine hygiene

***EDIT***
i had posted part of an email to my sister where i talked about french tampons. but now that people, possibly male people, might actually read this, i figured i'd leave out the gory details.

but if you want to fully understand my problem with the tampons i picked up at the pharmacie down the block, you can go here and click on 'insertion facile.' (a phrase that's almost as evocative as my entire original post.)

Bonjour

voilà moi.