Happy hump day hyper realistic oil painting inspiration


Check out these gorgeous realistic paintings from artist Damian Loeb!

“Damian Loeb (born 1970) is a self taught American painter. Growing up in Connecticut, he moved to New York City in 1989. Let the art speak for itself. His wiki entry tells us a bit more, though. Among other interesting tidbits that he is self-taught.”

See more here.

Thanks, Ryno!




when nature called the dump lady

Three days ago, Tina and I were grocery shopping at a store with a parking lot running under the EL tracks. The parking lot was packed with people entering, exiting, driving and parking.

Maybe some of those people were whistling. They were checking their watches and thinking about dinner.

Or maybe sex. Maybe one was thinking about sex. Others were thinking sweet things. Candies and sweet-smelling orchards.

Surely one of these many people in the parking lot was carrying flowers, perfume, and a photo of a baby with a bow in her hair.

I am setting the stage, dear readers. Setting the stage. 

Upon exiting the store, we headed to our car carrying bags of cheese and vegetables. Tina was slightly ahead of me, and she made no mention of someone standing within her field of view doing something … anything. Tina didn’t seem to flinch.

As I got closer, I helped Tina raise the trunk-hatch of our CR-V.

There. Nearby. Not ten feet from our vehicle, Tina forgot to mention that there was an African-American woman squatting very close to an elevated track support beam with her skirt hiked way up and her hand digging deep into her pelvic area. Her face was nonchalant as she dug through the front, past her underpants, through the forest of her pubic hair, past her vagina, into her butt crack with what I imagine was her hand and a piece of paper.

She dug hard.

Her shoulder-blade rolled up and down.

Her weight prevented her from seeing what she was doing, but with a sense of understanding, she had the cleaning crew moving around in full force.

We were in the safety of this woman’s bathroom, and she just took a shit.

“Do you see that woman?” I asked Tina.

“Yes,” Tina nodded.

“Do you see what she’s doing?”

“Uh huh.” My inquiry was less of a question and more of a, “I’m sure you’ve seen it. If you haven’t, you’re a blind-ass bat. Can you please confirm to me that I am witnessing a woman, take a shit, in our grocery store parking lot?

All of this happened very quickly. And as we were watching, other people were watching, too. There was a group of four Hispanics crossing right in front of her path, one of them holding a baby.

We looked on as she shimmied up her panty hose, wobbling back and forth. She pulled her dress back over her tights. Apparently she got some sprinkles and bits on her shoes. She kept scraping her shoes against the curb and pavement as she ambled toward the front door of the store.

As Tina sat down in the passenger seat, she whimper screamed, saying, “Holy crap. I can smell it. Let’s get out of here.”

Have you ever asked someone to pinch you, because you thought you were dreaming?

All I wanted was for Tina to pinch me so I could get the fuck out of that nightmare.