When The Dust Settles

    “Sssshhhh, sssshhhhh, baby, it’s okay, baby. Ssssshhhhh, sssssshhhhh”, Sarah said as she sat on the dirt floor with her newborn son held against her chest and rocked him back and forth. The ceiling and slats of the siding of the house were shaking and Sarah didn’t know how long they’d hold. She’d only had a couple of weeks with baby Michael before the wild black winds kicked up. There’d been no time to prepare for such a force of nature. They’d had previous dust and sand storms that came through these plains, weeks of them, but nothing like what was now seen through the bubbled glass windows of their small farmland house. There was no way this ramshackle shelter would stand against the dry relentless winds that were blowing through so incredibly hard. It had gotten so dark, so fast. The sun had completely disappeared and it was only mid-afternoon, a good 3 or 4 hours left of sunlight on a normal day. The temperature dropped and the air chilled without the sun’s warmth. Sarah thought it looked like the end of days outside after a glance through one of the windows, vowing to herself that she wouldn’t look again and drew closed the thin fabric of the curtains she’d sewn. She had been proud of those curtains. They were the first things she put up in an attempt to make the tiny two-room house a home just after she and John were married. He was a good, proud, and hearty land worker who’d left Sarah and their new son for a meeting with a man in New Mexico about work. John was eager to provide Sarah and Michael with a new chapter for their lives together. Sarah wondered how far John made it before the black winds found him. Her chest felt heavy thinking about where he’d have to stop and take cover and if he was ok, where ever he was.

     It started off as such a perfect Sunday. The skies so clear blue and the sun shining after not having seen it for weeks. Sarah busied herself with hanging the laundry outside and John packed up the jalopy and left that morning. He and Sarah had decided they were done with being Oklahoma land owners and were excited to find something new further west. The weather that year, and especially over the last few weeks, just wasn’t accommodating for working the soil and the drought, which had hit the year they got married, proved to be too harsh. John and Sarah were fully committed to each other and were able to stay optimistic through it all. The cattle that John brought with him were all gone after the first wave of dust storms came through. Their lungs had basically filled with mud from breathing in the fine dust of top soils and silt that constantly drifted through the atmosphere. 

Michael’s arrival had stalled their first plans to move west and Sarah had to power through the last few months while John fought to keep his new family afloat after the livestock and crops were all gone. They’d wanted children and were pleasantly surprised when they found out that Sarah was pregnant with Michael and that he’d be a spring baby. Both John and Sarah had never felt so revived and renewed and Michael’s birth had gone so smoothly, as if he was just as eager to be in this world and in this new life. John cried when he’d first gazed upon his son and he looked at Sarah with a new found appreciation and respect. Sarah absolutely glowed throughout the process and fell in love with the little human she and John created. She was so grateful and felt so blessed to be Michael’s mother and saw in John’s eyes that he’d do anything and everything for them.

     She looked down at Michael, swaddled in the quilt she’d made in the months before he came. His face was partially covered to protect him from the dust that made its way into the house. Her eyes welled up and a tear landed on the only spot of Michael’s forehead that was exposed between folds of fabric. Where the tear landed, the dust in the air collected and stuck to it. Fine wisps of silt were raining in through the ceiling and Sarah noticed a bow in some of the boards where the dirt outside was so heavily weighted against the wall boards that they bent inward slightly. The smell of the kerosene lamp got stronger as it filtered through the cloth that Sarah had draped over her face. Michael started crying again. Sarah slowly moved her hand to Michael’s face. She covered his nose and mouth and said, “Ssssshhhh, ssssshhhh, baby. It’s OK, baby. Ssssshhhh.”

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I wrote this after studying Dorothea Lange in a photography class and started researching The Dust Bowl and Black Sunday in the '30s.

In one article, it was reported that a survivor had admitted that she'd contemplated killing her newborn just to spare him the environmental hell they were living in.

Poetry - Femme Fatale

The assignment was to write a haiku, a sonnet, and something in open form. I've never been a huge fan of writing poetry because I never thought I was very good at it, but really grew to appreciate it after this assignment. My sonnet is a bit of a stumble but the requirements are all there. I was inspired by Patrick Nagel and Velvet Underground this particular night while doing homework.

-Haiku-

She wore her heels high

But made no sound while walking

'Til it was too late

-Sonnet-

They walked together having found true love

A close step behind, followed his best friend

He dreamt of cupping her supple rear end

And eyed those pants that fit her like a glove

A young beauty, wearing severe high heels

Yellow hair and bright blood red on her lips

Twisted triangle of relationships

A vixen in slinky smooth fabric peels

She was aware of her affect on him

The moves she made calculated, precise

They were caught one time, their whispers concise

The secrets they shared, founded on a whim

A call too close, the decision was made

To save her love, his friend's light had to fade

-Open Form-

She spritzed on her perfume

Lined her eyes with black

And slicked on some red

Shiny lacquered nails

Two stabs through her earlobes

Glimmered and dazzled

Her foot fall echoed and sharp

A match struck

The wisp of sulfur

The taste of tobacco and cloves mixed with gin and tonic

A charming laugh tinkling like ice in a glass after a delightful compliment

Pop culture filled polite conversation merged into backgrounds and upbringings and stifled vitriol

A lovely evening then soured, rotted, and ruined by shallow snobbery

Ignorant, arrogant, and rude

Quick sharp echoing steps

A frenzied retreat through black moving shadows and white steaming sidewalks

The silent transition

Between hunter and prey

He'd started the night as the hunter.

Photo Prompt - The American Contract

We were provided with 5 photos to pick from and write a story segment about. It didn't have to be a finished story, but it did need to be between 500 to 600 words.
This is the picture I chose and the words that followed.

The American Contract

I've been sitting here with my bitter black coffee in this cafe for about 30 minutes. The smell of coffee beans and toasted bread is in the air. The street lights have just come on against the crisp autumn evening of the city. The bicycle bells are starting to diminish but the sound of the train is still going strong nearby. The church bells all rang about an hour ago when I was trailing the denim wearing fellow down a few side streets. He ducked into the building across from where I'm sitting in this cafe, essentially becoming invisible due to security badges and metal detector body scans being a requirement in order to follow. I'm slightly pissed at feeling under prepared. This assignment is no different than jobs I've taken previously. When the message comes through and I take a job, there's usually just an initial date and time to pick up the trail, a grainy photo, boosted from a security camera, and a time frame for how long I'm supposed to trail the mark. Most of the time, the jobs are only a day or two. The longest was about 23 days. I've never had a contract last longer than a month. My job is to simply document movements and routines and remain completely inconspicuous. I rarely ever know the reason for the job. I don't ask questions and appreciate the income.

The waiter that first brought over my coffee has forgotten about me already. The coffee cup is empty and instead of looking for someone to refill, my eyes fall upon an old salty fellow in the dark corner of the room. He's got a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket and his jacket is hanging on a hook to the side of the table. He's reading a book which is lit by a single white candle in a pewter holder, and I can see only half of his wrinkled grey bearded face. For a brief moment, I consider what his internal voice sounds like as he's reading.

In my peripheral vision, I see a familiar shape exit the building across the street. My mark is on the move and immediately, I'm glad the waiter has forgotten me since I'd already been getting lost in my thoughts without that second cup of coffee.  I leave a few coins on the table and head towards the door, keeping an eye on my mark through the glass as I exit.

I'm supposed to be trailing this guy, I'm assuming is American because of his jeans, for a Monday through Friday contract, but he's moving faster than the usual 5 day gig.

I've only been to America once, to Disney World with my family, back when I was a kid and we were still a family. I remember there being giant stores full of denim. I vowed to never wear denim. My look is efficient and forgettable - I own exactly 7 black shirts, 7 pairs of black leggings, 2 pairs of black boots, and 2 black jackets; one sporty, one leather, and 3 black hoodies, and a drawer full of black socks and underwear - the boring kind you can buy in a pack of 5 at a time. It's easier to hide in the shadows and/or blend into the crowd wearing all black. It makes me feel invisible and as a result, I've never been made during a job.

My American denim wearer is walking briskly through a higher traffic touristy area and ducks into a coffee shop. I stop in an alley way across the street and light a cigarette.I've been sitting here with my bitter black coffee in this cafe for about 30 minutes. The smell of coffee beans and toasted bread is in the air. The street lights have just come on against the crisp autumn evening of the city. The bicycle bells are starting to diminish but the sound of the train is still going strong nearby. The church bells all rang about an hour ago when I was trailing the denim wearing fellow down a few side streets. He ducked into the building across from where I'm sitting in this cafe, essentially becoming invisible due to security badges and metal detector body scans being a requirement in order to follow. I'm slightly pissed at feeling under prepared. This assignment is no different than jobs I've taken previously. When the message comes through and I take a job, there's usually just an initial date and time to pick up the trail, a grainy photo, boosted from a security camera, and a time frame for how long I'm supposed to trail the mark. Most of the time, the jobs are only a day or two. The longest was about 23 days. I've never had a contract last longer than a month. My job is to simply document movements and routines and remain completely inconspicuous. I rarely ever know the reason for the job. I don't ask questions and appreciate the income.

The waiter that first brought over my coffee has forgotten about me already. The coffee cup is empty and instead of looking for someone to refill, my eyes fall upon an old salty fellow in the dark corner of the room. He's got a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket and his jacket is hanging on a hook to the side of the table. He's reading a book which is lit by a single white candle in a pewter holder, and I can see only half of his wrinkled grey bearded face. For a brief moment, I consider what his internal voice sounds like as he's reading.

In my peripheral vision, I see a familiar shape exit the building across the street. My mark is on the move and immediately, I'm glad the waiter has forgotten me since I'd already been getting lost in my thoughts without that second cup of coffee.  I leave a few coins on the table and head towards the door, keeping an eye on my mark through the glass as I exit.

I'm supposed to be trailing this guy, I'm assuming is American because of his jeans, for a Monday through Friday contract, but he's moving faster than the usual 5 day gig.

I've only been to America once, to Disney World with my family, back when I was a kid and we were still a family. I remember there being giant stores full of denim. I vowed to never wear denim. My look is efficient and forgettable - I own exactly 7 black shirts, 7 pairs of black leggings, 2 pairs of black boots, and 2 black jackets; one sporty, one leather, and 3 black hoodies, and a drawer full of black socks and underwear - the boring kind you can buy in a pack of 5 at a time. It's easier to hide in the shadows and/or blend into the crowd wearing all black. It makes me feel invisible and as a result, I've never been made during a job.

My American denim wearer is walking briskly through a higher traffic touristy area and ducks into a coffee shop. I stop in an alley way across the street and light a cigarette.

Stuff and Nonsense.

Most of you know that I'm back in school. If you don't, I have been since the summer of 2014. I'm heading into my final semester in January for a piddly little 2 year degree for Multimedia Production: TV/Digital Cinema. This fall term, I jumped into 5 classes; mostly digital editing and photography, but there was also a Creative Writing class.

I have decided to return to this hotdog stand because having words out there and ideas and inspiration floating about in so many ways is important to me. Most of you are creative minds and artists and stuff like that is important to you, too.
You understand that when the Muse speaks, you have no choice but to listen & TCB. My Muse has been strong this fall and she wants me to share her with you now.
So, if you're interested...I'm going to start posting recent stories, poetry, video & photo projects.

Plus, this:

2013 Highlighting the Ups

Matthew and I were at dinner the other night talking & getting excited about what we want to do in 2014 and discussing how we thought 2013 went.
Apparently, I had my cranky pants on because I said it was an "OK" year and he said it was "pretty fuckin' awesome".
I've realized since then that unfortunately, and for some stupid reason, my noggin was choosing to highlight some of the more awkward 2013 moments instead of all the seriously amazing things that happened.

The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to write out the rundown of awesome (and skipping over all the not-so-awesome), not to be a douche braggart, but to further reinforce those in my head instead of those less than optimal and maybe it'll help you do the same. I've seen your facebook posts about how crappy the year was and/or how you're ready for 2013 to be over and it's ok if sometimes we need reminders to clear our perspectives.

January was again full of drunken shenanigans at the Scottish Highland Games.  I dove head first into renovating the Dollhouse of Horrors and started building out stage pieces for the Bloody Jug Band...some by request, others not so much. We also saw Charlie Murphy down at the Improv.

February was more Dollhouse of Horrors work and a trip to Helen, GA.  We also went to see Muse at Amway Center and I cried a little bit at how amazing their show was.

In March, we saw the Dropkick Murphys again, I puppeteered for the Bloody Jug Band's video for "Roadkill Boys".  This was also the month we did Whole30 for the first time and I submitted my last photo for the 12month long Inspired class I'd signed up for in January.
Yep...I totally fell out of it for the rest of the year because of shiny new things and being inspired elsewhere.  But I'm glad I went out with a bang.

April started with a trip to see The Marvelous Mehegans up in Corning, NY.  I took a banjo lesson, we finally ate at Cask & Larder and Ravenous Pig, saw Tony Bourdain at Hard Rock, and visited Disney. This is also when I started thinking about a miniatures.com contest entry.

May was, of course, insane with a Mother's Day pool party that got way more rowdy than what was intended, a concert poster design class on Skillshare, a couple of BJB shows, and was capped off by a trip to New Orleans, LA for my & Pannacakes' birthdays.

June included a Glassman show at Peacock that was pretty killer, a visit with Vaughn & Jen to pick up one of my favorite purchases of the year (Betty & Veronica pictured below), jury duty selections for George Zimmerman, and was also when I received my walking papers from the company I'd worked for over the previous 12 years.

July started off with new hair to celebrate my corporate departure, a crazy 3rd of July party at Pannacakes', followed by a rained out pool party at the Merriam's for the 4th, a Khal Drogo costume for Matthew, the 8th Annual Summer Bomb, a couple of visits to DRIP, and Marilyn Manson at Hard Rock.

August had a The Cult show at HOB, another couple of BJB shows, a trip to Busch Gardens followed by a viewing of Blackfish, a Danny Leggett show, Cedric's surprise birthday party, a drunk monologues shoot (shut up, I'll get to that later), and a trip to Ocala to see April and her fam.  Made a fake movie poster for a friend's birthday and finished up a painting for Cedric & Michelle's anniversary.

September we rocked our own logo for a Labor Day weekend pub crawl, went and saw Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeroes at Hard Rock and then went to see them again during the Gentlemen of the Road festival weekend where we also saw Mumford & Sons and stayed at a dumpy St. Aug beach hotel.  And we attended a lovely DIY wedding.

In October we went to see Terribly Odd's Haunted Mansion inspired show, Ghost at Amway Center where they shook my pants and hair, I made a mermaid costume, had the best weekend at Spooky Empire where I finally met Tom Savini, hugged Bill Moseley & Ve Neill, told Glenn Hetrick that I'd be his huckleberry, fingered Kane Hodder's left gloved hand during a photobomb, and sang "Goodbye Horses" to Jason Mewes. We finished off October in Austin, TX to celebrate my & Matthew's wedding anniversary and dress up like the 11th Doctor and a Reptilian Shapeshifter for Halloween, and met up with The Krutikovs for some kick ass high-end mexican food with the first best mescal drink I've ever put down my neck followed by the best burlesesque show I've ever seen.

November I made a sideshow freak light-up sign out of an old guitar case & built out two rickety crate shelves for the Jugly Art show at Peacock and then Matthew & I left to spend a week in Amsterdam for his birthday where I lost my passport.  If you ever lose your passport in another country...hope you're in Amsterdam.  They were so nice and the whole process was a lot smoother than expected. We also met some great & crazy party people and Matthew gave up a Heisenberg shirt to a loud Scotsman. We spent Thanksgiving in Arizona with Matt's family during which we had a lovely evening strolling through the botanical gardens looking at giant lit up Chihuly glass sculptures in awe.

And so here we are at the tail end of December and I've submitted my Evil Dead Cabin to the miniatures.com contest before deadline and am making a Gatsby-style dress for New Year's Eve. We had a crazy drunken Pannacakes party, and a silly family presents exchange day that included Cards Against Humanity and boxing robots. We spent Christmas in San Francisco where we saw Brian Setzer Orchestra on Christmas Eve, Matthew got his first proper straight razor shave, dim sum in Chinatown, lobster bisque & crab salad at Pier 39, and we ate some pretty awesome food at some pretty awesome hotel restaurants and had The Best gin & tonic either one of us had ever had and the second best mescal drink I've ever put down my neck.

And peppered in throughout the year we were bombarded with Harlem Shakes, BatDad Vines, Breaking Bad, Red Weddings, Doctor Who, A Fox That Says Things, Goat remixes, Miley Cyrus' tongue, Blurred Lines, Twerking, Grumpy Cat & Li'l Bub, and an Astronaut Singing Space Oddity on the freakin' Space Station.

This year, like all other's before it, has included lots of ups and downs and were it not for the downs...how would you know just how up the ups are?
Plus, you'd probably be an insufferable asshole.

Even if you're a generally positive person like me, and incredibly lucky with a shit ton of ups, there are times that the Veil of Crap can fall down over your eyes to muddy your vision.
I am SO grateful for how up my ups were this year and I appreciate having those downs when they came along....but there's No. Possible. Reason. a down should ever overshadow an up....so remember to not let them, ok?

Thank you, Matthew for reminding me of that & helping to remove my Crap Veil.
You're absolutely right....2013 was pretty fuckin' awesome.

Cheers, everyone, to 2014!!  May your ups be fuckin' killer and your downs be valuable lessons to overcome.

The Evil Dead Cabin

For the better part of the past few months, I've been workin' on this little ditty for this little contest.
You buy the shell and dress it up how ever you want.
Most of the furniture is bought except the couch.  I made that, the curtains, the reel-to-reel, and the Book of the Dead.

So, without further ado, may I proudly present to you, "Ash's Cabin: In The Off Season"....uh, in one inch scale....

Yes, I realize it's missing a porch. I'll get back to that.

I have most of what I need to build the porch but had to sacrifice a porch swing chain for the cellar door and I felt the interior was a bit more important before the deadline.
So, we'll see what happens a little later and...y'never know, maybe Ash will even show up.

2008 Bitstrips

Willie sent this link to me one night back in 2008.  On it you can quickly create your own little comic strips so we went back and forth for a few days using actual conversations we'd had or silly little skits.  Now there's an app for it and I've been seeing them pop up more an more over the last week.

Here are the ones we did 5yrs ago...

Willie's Pimp Lessons:






And my nonsense:




I've just downloaded the app - Willie, have you?
I feel a bitstrips stretch comin' on. :)

Advice To Young Bloggers

My friend's daughter, Nae, has recently been makin' some noise about blogging and was looking for recommendations for sites to start her own.
It got me thinkin' about what I'd pass along, or maybe, what I wish I'd heard those several years* ago when I first started putting my stupid voice out there.

Here are some helpful-ish tips:

1. Don't write for other people. They won't read your shit anyway. And I do mean that in the nicest way possible. They just won't. Until one day when you think no one reads it and then someone mentions to you at a party that they've been reading it. And that when they do, it's usually during a morning constitutional. But hey, they're reading it, right? Score!!
There have been a few other times people have owned up to reading my shit -looking forward to it even- and it's a funny feeling. I love you, you fucking creepers. ;)

2. Write for yourself. If you have something heavy on your mind - get that shit OUT!! Right then - write it down on something to type up later, get the mobile app....whatever...just write it down. Get those brilliant thoughts outta your head. It's actually better for your noggin health. Plus, you don't wanna let a brilliant strike slip away only to have a creative block later. I've found that while traveling or in places where I don't have a good connection, actual writing with pen & paper is best. *GASP* I knoooooow!! Who'da thunk?
The other awesome reason to write for yourself, and the reason I write for myself, is so when you're older than you ever thought was possible and your mind has left town, you have some entertaining shit to read or have read to you. Little time capsules & slivers of yourself to look back on or pass through the family. Same reason applies as to why I make the dumb videos I make.

3. Don't censor yourself or be afraid to offend people. Because fuck them.  See #2. (heh...#2)

4. Proofread a shit ton of times before you publish it.  Most of the time you'll come off sounding like an idiot anyway (especially if you're like me and write in a conscious thought stream that includes slang) - typos and easy grammatical errors will only compound that & cancel out any cool points you may have earned in topic.
Plus, simple errors just get on my nerves (ask Matthew) and I'd like it if more people took the time to proofread their shit.

5. Hemmingway said, "Write drunk; Edit sober."

6. If you're stumped and don't know what to write about, reviews and How-To's are always easy go-tos. Music, movies, books, events, travel, cooking, etc. (obviously, I've had no idea what to write about over the past few years.) Even old diary/journal entries are good references in times of blockage.

7. Never ever think anything is going to go viral. I stress this one here, but this goes for anything being shared via social media. "Viral" doesn't work that way. You can't set out one day thinking you're going to make a Viral Something. If you do, you'll only be disappointed and I'll point and laugh and say, "I told you so." If you end up making something that happens to go viral (see the difference there?), it will be a joyous occasion and we'll all be reading/watching it on loop and will help you celebrate.

8. As a follow-up to #3....Don't feel like you have a license to be an asshole to people. Don't make it sound like you're directing your commentary towards any one person. That's just mean. If there is anyone reading your shit, they'll probably think whatever you're saying is about them anyway, so just keep things in general terms. It's classier that way & you won't come off as just another trash talker.

9. Include pictures if you're wordy. How many times have you clicked a link and were assaulted by a giant screen of unbroken paragraphs and more words than you were able to scroll through? Did you read it all? No, you were too busy scrolling, looking for the end. Be nice to eyeballs and break it up into bite size chunks with pictures, lists (like this one), embedded vids, or just simply throw in some good paragraph breaks.

10. There's no number 10. I just wanted to see if you'd make it this far on the list. Here's a small reward if you've only scrolled to the ending because you let the amount of words intimidate you:

-------------------
*Yes, I actually have been blogging for "several years". I kept up with one on multiply.com for a couple years starting in 2004. multiply.com isn't around anymore as of May 2013. Go ahead, check. Then I did the myspace thing for a few years until I started spewing all over Blogger in 2008 with this slice of brilliance. And that's only the internet stuff. I've kept journals all my life, too!!

New Ink for Xmas!!

"Why?", you ask?
Both animals represent creativity and magic.  They're reminders for me to get my creative shit out.
The spider spins beautiful webs despite them being easily destroyed.  The eye in it that I can't hide from and is always keeping watch.
Crows have an incredible sense of ingenuity and remind me to get back into the things that make sense to me.
They're there to kick my own ass into gear.
If you're curious, you can check out one of my favorite nifty books here that goes into animal symbolism/meanings in more detail.

While we're being honest, out of the (lucky number) 13 tattoos I have....these were probably the most painful.  Feels like road rash or a horrible sunburn.  I bit my lip, gritted my teeth, and made the pinched up "ow" face a few times.
And my feet are cold with it being chilly out.
I can't wear socks for a couple days.
But I absolutely love them and what they represent.  They make me smile.
And the guy who did them for me is pretty rad, too.  :)
Check him out here.

And see how cute they look with these shoes!!

Masks Are Done

Started this mask a while back.  Decided to do a 2nd one and sent them both out today.

gave me a painting idea

Remember the KM Photo Project?

We haven't forgotten.  We've just been busy.

So, for playing catch up, here are our Harajuku pics.

I don't think we really had much time to learn anything from these.
Martha said she had the opposite of an asian looking face so went for an artsy edit and said, "Isn't Harajuku more about art anyway?"
I love her pigtails and lips.

I tried to do something more fun with my lips but fucked it up and just went with it.  Joker-inspired purple, green, and orange were the colors I chose.  I ended up looking like Poison Ivy.  Wish you could see the purple in my hair.

Next up!!  MYTHOS!! :)

2012 KM Photo Project #4

Yes, we know we're two months behind.  Shit happens.
The month of April was "Bad 90's Glamour Shots", so here we are in all our soft filtered glory.

Clearly, Martha's done this before.

I love the chin hands and head tilts.

Mine aren't nearly as good.  My lighting was all wrong & forgot to use a flash, but whatever.
Here we go.

The last one was just for fun.  I've never done Glamour Shots before and its been YEARS since I've done any weird portrait studio poses.  Totally forgot about the chinhands and crap.  All I could remember was the collar holds.

What Martha learned: "I learned that I need to keep more stupid hats and gaudy jewelry on hand.  And boas.  And I need to use Tom more for these projects; he's hilarious and oh so helpful behind the camera-phone.  Also I learned that hair-spraying a bang wave is the delorean time machine to my middle school years."

What I learned:  Doing 'big hair' is difficult when you have fine hair.  I've haven't used that much hairspray since back then.  Should've used the flash and had bigger jewelry on.  Also practicing poses beforehand might've helped.  Pay no attention to my nails in the first one.
Oh, great...now you'll go back and look.  I really had no clue how to do "90s makeup", so it just ended up being weird shades of what I normally wear thrown together and overdone.

GAWH!, I WISH I COULD DO BIG HAIR LIKE HER'S!!

1 out of 1 Snoops Approve The New Lair Table