November 2006 Archives

The Sneeze Mailbag

In honor of my recent absence, I received this the other day...


I realize this is a little late but i wanted to celebrate your one month anniversary of not updating your site!!! Every day that I check your site and see the same post I think to myself, "Alright! One more day to the illustrious one month mark!" Thanks for not letting me down, Steve.

As a token of my appreciation I've created a new header for you. I hope you like it!

Thanks for all the great work,

Thanks, Aaron! (I had to shrink it a little to make it fit here. The full-size original is here.)

Things I Would Say If I Couldn't Find My Piccolo

"Has anyone seen my piccolo?"

"Looks like a tiny flute...?"

"Small... silver... not at all effeminate... No?"

"Dammit! Where the hell is my piccolo?!!"

"All right, where was I the last time I was playing my piccolo? Think, think..."

"Seriously. If you're done giggling, can you help me find my piccolo?"

"PICCOLO, WHERE ARE YOUUUU??! No, not you Piccolo the Dog! You go outside and play. I'm busy!"

"How's a guy supposed to make shrill, high-pitched whistle sounds without his damn piccolo?!!!"

"C'mon Steve, think, if you were a wee woodwind instrument, where would you be?!"

"YES!!! MY PICCOLO!!! Thank God! Oh. That's just my piccolo-shaped cheese-grater. Shit!"

"Son of a bitch!!!"

"Note to self: Team up with LoJack to create a Piccolo Recovery System. Possible name: "Picco-Lojack". What am I doing?!! I'm wasting precious time!!!"

"This is a nightmare."

"Mother, does this look like a piccolo to you?! THIS IS A FIFE!!! Now keep looking!"

I don't really have a piccolo.

Forbidden Adventures

Next Saturday night, Dec. 2nd, good ol' robot-painting pal of The Sneeze, Eric Joyner, will be having a kick-ass gallery opening here in Los Angeles. (I got a sneak peek of it and it's some of his best work ever!)

The reception will be from 7-10 pm at the Corey Helford Gallery in Culver City where Eric will be unveiling a whole slew of cool new stuff.

I'll be there hanging out with Eric and my wife and trying not to spend all my money on robot paintings, so come on down and say hi. (If you've never been to an art opening before, here's a rare chance for you to look at cool robots and monsters while feeling fancy at the same time.)

Here is the sweet promo poster I received in the mail...

(Click here for a larger view of the poster. Or here for the gallery's official site. And finally here for Eric's official site.

Oh, and also here to witness the birth of Eric's Rock 'Em Sock 'Em masterpiece, The Final Blow.)

Take Me To Your Lead Singer

Hello, internet pals. It's been awhile.

I wish I had some extravagant or gruesome excuse for where I've been the past month, but I don't. It's the same old work/kids/selling-babies-on-the-black-market thing for me again.

For what it's worth I do feel shitty about it. And thanks to everyone who has written wondering what was up. If you wrote and I didn't get a chance to write back yet, I feel shitty about that, too.

Truthfully, I'm not exactly sure what's going to happen here. I'd like to keep it all going, but it's getting tougher to find the time to do what I consider a good job on the site. Plus I never wanted this to feel like work and over the past 6 months or so, it has at times, felt more like work. But l figure we'll see what happens. I'm not ready to shut the door yet.

That being said, I'd like to share with you one of the greatest conversations I've ever had with my six-year-old son.

Lately he and his younger brother have decided that they are in a band. The little one plays drums on any surface he can find while his big brother plays air guitar and sings.

I had asked them about the name of the band and I was told they're called "The Martians".

Recently, I was privileged enough to sit down to dinner at Islands restaurant with the lead singer and drummer of The Martians. At one point I said to them, "Hey, Daddy has a suggestion that might make the name of your band a little cooler. What if instead of "The Martians," you guys just called yourselves: "Martians."

My son looked up from coloring his menu and replied, "I don't know. Let me see... (talking into a pretend microphone) HELLOOO! WE ARE MARTIANS! ... HELLOOO! WE ARE THE MARTIANS! -- Nope, it's The Martians."

Having efficiently shot Daddy down, he picked up his red crayon and went back to work on the menu.

That adorable little A-hole.

(I would like the record to show that I still firmly believe Martians is the better name (and that Brian from Guster agrees with me). So despite this awesome exchange, maybe the next trip to Islands, you pay for your own hot dog and apple juice.)


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