An Eyesore to Match the Cerebral Desiccation...

Today has been glorious, and gloriously painful. Monstrous hangovers once again are the locus of woe. (The CP and I were among the DJs spinning and cursor pointing at Silke Arp Bricht's Calenberger Pfannenschlag party Saturday night, and although the beer and wine seemed to be safely absorbed by vascular apparatus, the fucking Prosecco sent us tumbling backward in time to unicellular status. Ouch...) Hunger eventually gnawed through the pain, although it must be noted that the paralysis we shared was intensely romantic. Nothing like cuddling with your significant, equally narcoleptic other... Anyhow, we finally made it out of the flat around 14:00 to seek the greasy Chinese fast food cure, and as we hit the garden landing we noticed the stacked belongings of upstairs neighbors. (Their second child had recently arrived, and thus they were headed for a more fam-friendly pasture.) This noisesome canvas, exactly what Hr. Dr. Mengele ordered, caught (and sent scalding meter-long needles into) our eyes:



(Click above for a larger version of the image.)

Entartete Kunst Lives!

Avoid champagne after 4:00 AM,

Tom