Craig's so sensitive! He has a tattoo!

Now, I hate to do this to you guys again...that is, post another video clip, but this one is great. Many thanks to Betts, who introduced me to this brilliant comedian.

Now that that's through with, however, I think I shall have to tell you that I'm extraordinarily chuffed. Yes, yes, I am. I finished a painting. Or, rather, abandoned it, as da Vinci would have it. Yes, I have a photograph of it, and here it is!
Just kidding. I haven't got one, yet, but it is coming.
Soon.
I've been toying with the idea of doing a miniature. Yes, a miniature. I went out and bought some itty canvases the other day (there was a sale...30% off all canvases, joygasm), and started on the larger one, but the small one...well, it's only about 12x10 cm, so I can just beautifully work on a miniature. What I'd really like to do is a round vignette miniature, but I haven't been able to find miniature-sized round canvas and there's no way I'm going to stretch my own now that I've run out of gesso. Let the corporations do it for me!
Now, I know none of you know what I'm talking about, but I'd like to take this opportunity to tell you how much I love grumtine. Not the thin, clear stuff. I love the dark bluey green stuff that takes an age, an age, and half an age to dry, and smells like orange rinds and makes your room smell clean even when it's not.
Yes, my room looks like a tornado went through it, but, believe it or not, I'm actually making a conscious effort to make it presentable. Despite the fact that my ever increasing stash of art nonsense is steadily encroaching on my living space, it's all right! I won't panic! Because we all know that my easel shrinks down to the size of a teaspoon, canvases can be sold to other aspiring artists at cost price, and brushes are easy to transport.
I'd encourage anyone who doesn't know what I'm talking about at the moment to go away, if you haven't already, because I'm about to tell you about my new brush.
It's black Fitch sable, a #4 filbert, with a handle that is balanced in the smexiest possible way, a ferrule that's not going to shed though it walks through the valley of the shadow of death, and the only regret I have is that I'm not allowed to marry an inanimate object.
This is the sexiest brush. It's not that I don't appreciate the beauty of natural bristle. I've had a set of natural bristle brushes since I first started oil painting. I've dragged them across three continents and though three have been lost along the wayside because they were stuck together with old oil paint, I'm still terribly attached to them.
I especially love the daddy, the big old #12 that scrumbles and covers so nicely, even if it is stained with phthalo blue at the tips and you can barely see that the handle is made of wood. These are the kind of brushes that don't give in.
But I'm still in love with my new filbert.
My God, I'm a nerd.