Category: indoor adventures

Dream Job: Cookie Architect.

~ Lkvy ~ 5 Comments

If nobody showed off, we wouldn’t have pro athletes, artists, or stunt people. The whole point of Instagram is to show off, whether it be your hot bod, hot bowl of ramen, or in my case, the demonic balls of fluff that are my cats.

There is one month of the year when cookie architects get the most attention: this one. December.

When I’m not juggling greasy bike parts, I’m mashing my oily meathooks into gingerbread dough. I design buildings nobody can inhabit, just ingest. And I am good at it. 

Without further ado, I shall show off, starting with last year’s saccharine behemoth:

Gomez, Morticia, their children, the creepy uncle, and the butler lived here until Yann rendered them homeless with his mouth.
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Please pass the gas.

~ Lkvy ~ Leave a comment

An unexpected side effect of missing a week of work due to injury/being on stupefacient drugs is not knowing what to do with myself.

At the beginning of the week, I was in too much pain to be productive. Along with numbing the pain, the medication I was on was also numbing my cognitive abilities. I even succeed in losing loaf of bread immediately after putting it away someplace odd.

It had been a long time since I’ve managed to get so little done in so much time; however, yesterday I was able to grasp a pencil and rub some graphite into my sketchbook.

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Final travelogue.

~ Lkvy ~ Leave a comment

I have just concluded my first week back at work post-vacation, but I’m still not finished talking about my vacation.

On Thursday the 19th, I took my gym-loving sister, Jenn, to the gym. Not the kind she usually goes to, but the kind I usually go to. My preferred type of gym has almost entirely padded flooring, and a lot of chalk dust. Jenn is a Crossfitter and, yes, she talks about it a lot but come to think of it, climbers also talk about climbing excessively.

Her being a crossfitter has the family commenting on her burly physique a lot. Dad in particular is strangely interested in the physique of others. He mentioned no less than four times that my brother had gotten really fat, and when I told him that I had visited two of my childhood friends, he asked whether either of them had gotten fat. It did make me wonder how Dad describes my  physique.

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