up with figs, murder

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective days mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch - either in illustration or word form - and the other would make a companion sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise might make both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

Murder

 Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.


up with figs, cat walk

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective days mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch - either in illustration or word form - and the other would make a companion sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise might make both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

Cat walk

Yes, Hamish, you have every right to be proud. Get it? “Proud??” Like bunch of lions? You’re walking a kitty cat? 

Well I thought it was funny. You don’t have to get all sniffly about it.

Fine. 

Anyway, what I was going to say was it is an amazing thing that Sir Fluffer Waffle will walk on a leash. I do. But what I never said was that it couldn’t be done. I knew it could be, for someone as determined as you.

No, I did mean anything by that. You are just a man of strong will, is all.

Fine.

What I actually said was that it shouldn’t be done because, seriously? It’s unnatural, Hamish. Cats on leashes. It’s like goldfish in water goblets. You can do it, sure, but it tends to not work out well for anybody.

Yes, I will be like that. And, no, this has nothing to do with what you said about my mother.

 Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.


up with figs, feel the burn

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective days mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch - either in illustration or word form - and the other would make a companion sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise might make both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

Feel the burn

So this lady at the gym on Saturday, older, like 70s, maybe, just put herself through what has to be the most ineffective workout ever. She spent, like, ten seconds on  the bike then leapt off to rearrange one setting or another, then jumped back on, for, like, ten more seconds, then did it again. And again and again. I mean, maybe, that was her intended workout, the pedaling like a fiend for a few seconds then leaping but, yeah, it didn’t seem like that was her intention, because she was also talking to herself the entire time. For a good 20 minutes, while I did my crunches and lunges, she was like a manic hummingbird, up and down and gibbering away. Then she moved to the rowing machine, then back to the bike. Weird, right?

 Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.


up with figs, killer squirrel

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective days mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch - either in illustration or word form - and the other would make a companion sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise might make both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

Killer squirrel

I’ve long been convinced that, if reincarnation exists, the best living thing to come back as would be a squirrel on a college campus. They just always look like they are having the best time ever, those squirrels, chasing each other around trees and picking up ramen crumbs and not worrying too much about cars and cats. And, it almost goes without saying, pelting undergrads on the noggins with nuts, which is the real draw, when you get right down to it.

 Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.


up with figs, alas, poor Lothario

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective days mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch - either in illustration or word form - and the other would make a companion sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise might make both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

Winter of his discontent

The Lothario of Smith Street hates the winter. 

It’s not the ice or the cold or the snow. That the Lothario can handle.

His hate stems from all the fine females who wear big, puffy coats. He can’t admire their fine forms, is what draws his ire. The Lothario can’t tell which chicks to make a move on when, in the big, puffy coats and acres of hats, scarves, and socks, he can’t even tell if they are, indeed, fine females. 

It frustrates the Lothario, who yearns for some quality Spring wooing.

Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.


up with figs, some have it thrust upon them

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective days mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch - either in illustration or word form - and the other would make a companion sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise might make both minds more nimble. Hopefully. Skate park

And, thus, on that day, Zachary’s little brother Earl was thrust into his true calling. We celebrate Earl, the first human skateboard ramp, and all of the many feats of true stupidity he inspired. Bravo, Earl. Bravo.

Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.


up with figs, did you get a receipt?

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective days mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch - either in illustration or word form - and the other would make a companion sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise might make both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

The day after the 12 days of xmas

While I appreciate the thought — no, no, really — it’s sweet that you wanted to get me all the things from the song. Really. Very nice. But I might have been happier with another accordion. Or maybe some food for all of these dang drummers drumming. 

At least all the birds have flown away. Well, except for that bite-y one. He seems to want to stick around. And we have plenty of milk now so there’s that. And the trees will be nice once there are pears on them.

I’m not saying that it was a bad gift. No. No! I love that you went to such expense and effort. I love that practicality is not obstacle for you! 

I just think that maybe next year we set some limits.

Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.


up with figs, thanks but no

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective days mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch - either in illustration or word form - and the other would make a companion sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise might make both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

Christmas not

 

Things I know I don’t want for Christmas so thank you anyway:

  • Ebola
  • Newscasters, etc., obsessing about ebola
  • Chinese from that weird place around the corner. I don’t think it’s actually a restaurant. 
  • Another accordion. 
  • Anything processed. 
  • More lingerie, because, really, at this point, who are we kidding?
  • Things that breathe and/or require food.
  • Those smelly candles. You know the ones.
  • Visits from your Aunt Margie. It’s not even character building anymore. It’s just sad, like Grey Gardens sad.

Other than that, though, the sky is the limit. I mean, you could get me the sky, but I’m not sure where we’d put it.

 

Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.


up with figs, what makes a family

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective days mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch - either in illustration or word form - and the other would make a companion sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise might make both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

Family

Bob. I need you to sit down for a minute. We need to talk. 

No, Bob. Now is exactly the right time. 

They aren’t real, Bob. Not even a little. 

Stuffed, Bob. Not with “love,” like you say every single time I point this out. With industrial fiber-fil. 

I’m not “against freedom,” Bob. I’m just worried about where this is going. You need to choose: me or the three penguins.

Well. 

That was unexpected. And quick. I expected more mulling. And no I won’t scrape my own sticker off of your window. I never wanted to be part of this freak show in the first place, Bob.

 

Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.


up with figs, the horror

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective days mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch - either in illustration or word form - and the other would make a companion sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise might make both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

The horror

I haven’t told you my other method for dealing with writer’s block. I give myself a choice — I can either write whatever needs to be written or complete some odious task, like scrubbing the innards of the refrigerator or washing all of the upstairs windows or cleaning around the 9-year old Boy’s bed, including the crack between the frame and the mattress, which is where all of the extra-grody stuff lives. Nearly every single time I’ll just sit down and write. And, even if instead choose the odious task, at least there’s one less odious task on my list. It’s a win no matter what.

Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.