I went back east to Boston recently to visit Kar and Biz’s palace of marital bliss, rock out with the Callahans at our east coast clubhouse Silvertone, eat at my boy Ray’s kickass sushi joint plus check if Lono had gotten over the Red Sox beating the Yankees in the 2004 World Series. Unfortunately, Lono was still a blubbering mess, reduced to hugging a bottle of Bushmill’s, whispering Damen disses in his dog’s ear and pretending the whole thing never happened.

But it did, my lovable Celtic lush. IT DID.

Anyway, KarBiz live in a burrough just outside of Boston proper where local artists hold open studios on some of the nicer fall weekends. Mostly crap, in my art school-dropout opinion. But then again I’ve paid money for Wrestlemania tickets, so what the fuck do I know.

I do know this: Ryan Wall, a photographer who’s backyard outdoor gallery we stumbled upon, seriously needs to quit his day job. I think he works for Bank of America, and you can find out more about him at his MySpace page.

He’s my new favorite person for 2 very important reasons:

1) I bought a piece of his work. It wasn’t remotely akin to the candy corn autumn-leaves-changing schlock that most of the exhibits were chock full of, but instead a shining diamond in the rough that he had put out on a whim without thought of selling it. It’s his family Christmas Card for this year. It’s his real family wearing real ski masks, and displayed in a $3 chipped wood frame he found at Target. And sweet god, it’s frickin’ genius. You can view it here, or stop by my place and check it out in all its subversive glory.

Why it is brilliant? Because in this era where my vague resemblance to the Indian guy in Office Space merits hearing shit from the dude at Walgreen’s taking my passport photo for looking “a bit too ethnic” in my picture and getting inevitably rubber gloved by Officer Rent-a-Frisk every time I try to get past airport security, this dude is sending out pics of his family in ski masks. For Christmas. Via USPS. En masse.

Awesome.

I’m on Wall’s mailing list for the real Christmas card this year. You can email him at ryan-kevin at excite.co.uk, mention you read about him on OhMyGowda!, and he’ll send you one too.

2) Ryan emailed me the other day saying he dug this blog, and conveying condolences on the evil that is my ex-wife. He suggested I explore personal ads as a means of meeting the lovely ladies, and even provided some sample copy that had worked for him in the past:

I am Ryan Wall.

I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row. I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru. Most of the aliases I’ve created to avoid the public eye have become larger than myself. Critics worldwide swoon over my original line of corduroy evening wear. My deft floral arrangements have earned me fame in international botany circles. I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, I pay my bills online and on time. Angelina Jolie refers to me as the one that got away, yet truth be told she never had me. I don’t perspire. I bat .600. Children trust me.

Ryan, you’re a rockstar. You’ve promised to send me more pics, and I hope you’re for real. Meanwhile, I got an letter to write.

Dear Halle,

Seems like forever since you sent those nice detectives over to check on me. Hope you got the butter sculpture of Catwoman I asked them to deliver to you. It was for your birthday but I figured, hey! Why not early this year?! And it was starting to smell funny.

Anyhoo, just wanted to catch you up on what’s new in with me. I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. Occasionally, I tread water for…

I went back east to Boston recently to visit Kar and Biz’s palace of marital bliss, rock out with the Callahans at our east coast clubhouse Silvertone, eat at my boy Ray’s kickass sushi joint plus check if Lono had gotten over the Red Sox beating the Yankees in the 2004 World Series. Unfortunately, Lono was still a blubbering mess, reduced to hugging a bottle of Bushmill’s, whispering Damen disses in his dog’s ear and pretending the whole thing never happened.

But it did, my lovable Celtic lush. IT DID.

Anyway, KarBiz live in a burrough just outside of Boston proper where local artists hold open studios on some of the nicer fall weekends. Mostly crap, in my art school-dropout opinion. But then again I’ve paid money for Wrestlemania tickets, so what the fuck do I know.

I do know this: Ryan Wall, a photographer who’s backyard outdoor gallery we stumbled upon, seriously needs to quit his day job. I think he works for Bank of America, and you can find out more about him at his MySpace page.

He’s my new favorite person for 2 very important reasons:

1) I bought a piece of his work. It wasn’t remotely akin to the candy corn autumn-leaves-changing schlock that most of the exhibits were chock full of, but instead a shining diamond in the rough that he had put out on a whim without thought of selling it. It’s his family Christmas Card for this year. It’s his real family wearing real ski masks, and displayed in a $3 chipped wood frame he found at Target. And sweet god, it’s frickin’ genius. You can view it here, or stop by my place and check it out in all its subversive glory.

Why it is brilliant? Because in this era where my vague resemblance to the Indian guy in Office Space merits hearing shit from the dude at Walgreen’s taking my passport photo for looking “a bit too ethnic” in my picture and getting inevitably rubber gloved by Officer Rent-a-Frisk every time I try to get past airport security, this dude is sending out pics of his family in ski masks. For Christmas. Via USPS. En masse.

Awesome.

I’m on Wall’s mailing list for the real Christmas card this year. You can email him at ryan-kevin at excite.co.uk, mention you read about him on OhMyGowda!, and he’ll send you one too.

2) Ryan emailed me the other day saying he dug this blog, and conveying condolences on the evil that is my ex-wife. He suggested I explore personal ads as a means of meeting the lovely ladies, and even provided some sample copy that had worked for him in the past:

I am Ryan Wall.

I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row. I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru. Most of the aliases I’ve created to avoid the public eye have become larger than myself. Critics worldwide swoon over my original line of corduroy evening wear. My deft floral arrangements have earned me fame in international botany circles. I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, I pay my bills online and on time. Angelina Jolie refers to me as the one that got away, yet truth be told she never had me. I don’t perspire. I bat .600. Children trust me.

Ryan, you’re a rockstar. You’ve promised to send me more pics, and I hope you’re for real. Meanwhile, I got an letter to write.

Dear Halle,

Seems like forever since you sent those nice detectives over to check on me. Hope you got the butter sculpture of Catwoman I asked them to deliver to you. It was for your birthday but I figured, hey! Why not early this year?! And it was starting to smell funny.

Anyhoo, just wanted to catch you up on what’s new in with me. I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. Occasionally, I tread water for…