Drawing Practice: How to draw a horse

For previous drawing practice posts, learn how to draw a shark, an elephant, and a bird

Greetings friends! Today, we are going to learn how to draw one of the hardest animals out there: the HORSE.

I have had a lot of struggles in the past with drawing horses. Oftentimes, they turned out something like this:

But no more. Today, I'm going to learn the proper way to draw a beautiful horse that I can be really proud of!

We'll start by learning how to follow this guide here:

So easy, even an idiot could do it, right? Let's put that to the test! Here goes an idiot, trying to draw this horse:


ATTEMPT #1

Ummm ... okay, so ... it has a few problems. But! I think I know exactly where I went wrong. So I'm just gonna start over and see if the second one turns out better.


ATTEMPT #2

I'm already really concerned about the direction this one is headed.

Phew! I saved it by making it a psychedelic horse. Keep that trick in your pocket for when things start to go wrong for you: make it all trippy and people won't notice how bad it is. Life lessons for ya.


But I know I can do better. I just know it.


ATTEMPT #3

Whatever. Horses are stupid anyways. Does anyone even like them? No. Nobody does.



I'm not giving up, though. Because that would be wrong! So instead I'm just going to try a different tutorial. Clearly, my struggles are the tutorial's fault, not my own. So let's see if we can't draw ...

... this guy!


Personally, I can't think of a single reason why this wouldn't be an unqualified success. So off I go!

STEP 1:

Nailed the three little balls. Couldn't have done a better job. Feeling good so far.

STEP 2:

Okay, so ... little bit duckish, but I think we're still good.

STEP 3:

Uh oh.

STEP 4:

It's not good. It's not.

STEP 5:

STEP 6:

STEP 7:

STEP 8:

ERASE EXTRA LINES:

ADD COLOR:

F***.

You and I both know there's only one thing we can do now to save this:

And that, friends, is how you draw a horse.

Facebook would be better if nobody posted things like ...

The other day, I was reading through my Facebook news feed when I suddenly realized what an incredible waste of time it was. It was just worthless horseshit after worthless horseshit. Some of it made me angry, a lot of it made me bored, and almost all of it made me roll my eyes and groan audibly.

And that makes me mad. I've had Facebook since back when it was still called THE Facebook ... since you needed a university email address ... since there were only a handful of universities that even had it available to them at all. I've had Facebook since before you could add pictures, before you could share links, before you could even type a status longer than 140 characters. And Facebook used to be the f***ing shit.

Now it's just a big flaming maelstrom of poo.

So I decided to start unfollowing people. Lots and lots of people. Maybe if I could clear all the poo-flingers out of my news feed, my Facebook experience would improve! It might even slowly find its way back towards how great it used to be! Anything is possible. 

With that goal in mind, here's the kind of shit that I started aggressively unfollowing people for posting:


Shit that is patently false

Look, you have a right to believe whatever you want. But if you genuinely believe that vaccines cause autism, or that Bush orchestrated 9/11, or that Obama is personally responsible for everything bad that happens in the world -- and you believe these things enough to post "supporting arguments" (those are super sarcastic air quotes) on your Facebook feed -- your brain does not work properly and there is nothing I can do to fix that. As a result, I have no interest in hearing anything else that you have to say, on any subject. You could have the cutest kids on the planet and a cat who can ride a bike, but I'm still going to hide you from my feed. Because I'd rather miss out on ten videos of a cat riding a bike than find myself getting angry at ONE idiotic shitpost.

The fact that I'm missing this is a f***ing tragedy.

Arguing with people on social media is never a good idea. So if someone regularly posts things that are so stupid and wrong you feel morally compelled to correct them, it's best to just remove them from your news feed. Your life will be better.

Pretty sure you didn't see that on the news.

Shit with absolutely ridiculous sources

If there's one thing I picked up in high school, it was this mantra: CHECK. YOUR. SOURCES.

There really aren't that many rules on what you can and can't say on the Internet. Even libel laws are pretty hard to run afoul of. So basically, unless you REALLY piss off the wrong person, you can pretty much say whatever you want at all times. Even if it's not true.

I am available for interviews about the experience.

And yet, many, many, many people seem not to grasp this. They think that just because it found its way onto the web, it therefore must be true.

... even when it comes from sources like superultrarightwingnutters.net or democracysucks.org or conservativesliterallywantyoutodie.edu.

Can't believe nobody has claimed this URL yet. I know where I'm starting my conspiracy blog!!

Dude ... you guys ... when you share an 'article' that you found on a site called "Right Wingers for Truth About Obama Being a Goat From Outer Space", you are making yourself look like an absolute twat. Every time a moron reads PROPAGANDA, believes it wholeheartedly, and then attempts to brainwash their Facebook friends with this propaganda, Stalin smiles in his grave.

STALIN LOVE PROPAGANDA

STALIN LOVE SOVIET CHILD

SOVIET CHILD LOVE STALIN

ALL IS GOOD

Before you click "share", look at the f***ing source, okay? Is it a legitimate news agency? No, not Daily Kos or Bill O'f***ing Reilly -- I mean a LEGITIMATE source. Not some blatantly biased shill for one side or the other. If not, don't post that shit. Nobody goes onto Facebook hoping to have their brain smashed with a big f***ing hammer. They go on there hoping to see a funny update about the crazy lady in line in front of you at the grocery store.

This is the #1 way to get your ass deleted. You bloody no-good propagandist. You worthless Joseph Goebbels wannabe. You make everyone around you dumber. That's so rude.

Let's all cool down with this picture of a kitten.

Also, I'm interested in learning more about the Right Wingers for Truth About Obama Being a Goat From Outer Space movement. I'm not saying I'm 100% on board, but let's just say I've always had my doubts about him.

OMG how did none of us notice?

The same damn shit over and over again

Everyone has that one friend: they get pregnant, and for the next nine months it's "10 Things You Shouldn't Say to a Pregnant Woman", "5 Things You Shouldn't Do to a Pregnant Woman," "8 Things You Shouldn't Ask a Pregnant Woman," every week and sometimes extra on the weekends. And then the kid is born, and it's "____ Things Nobody Tells You About Being a New Parent" every Tuesday for the next fifty years.

And then there's that friend that just took a personality quiz, and now you're getting weekly lessons on "How To Handle An Extrovert When You're An Introvert." 

Oh God. Please stop.

If you're newly pregnant and you're excited about it, and you find a very funny list of things you shouldn't say or do to a pregnant woman, by all means, share it! Hell, when I was first pregnant with Audrey, I put together my own tired old list of rules. But for the love of god, get some new material eventually. I don't need weekly reminders that you're super into breastfeeding ("Oh good, ANOTHER article about the benefits of breast milk! The first twenty only had me 80% convinced so hopefully this one does the trick!") and four article shares a week reminding me that you are WAY WAY WAY AGAINST gun ownership ("Wow, another gun accident happened somewhere in the world? Well this one has just pushed me over the edge and now I also support a total gun ban!").

It doesn't work that way. Repeatedly bombarding people with the same message in slightly different form isn't going to make them agree with you. It's just going to make them sick of hearing your damned message.

And then everyone unfollows you and you're shouting into an empty chamber. And that's sad.

Plus, nobody gets to see those videos of your cat riding a bike :-(

HA!

Overtly racist shit

The world has really changed over the past few decades. And one of the biggest, most awesome changes has been that it is no longer considered okay to be openly, virulently racist. Even if on the inside you are the most bigoted piece of shit on the planet, most people generally understand that they need to at least pretend not to have those views when interacting with people in a public setting.

So when someone is so incredibly racist that they don't even feel the need to pretend not to be racist ... wow. That is some racism right there. (and of course, this also goes for blatant, over-the-top homophobia or sexism or whatever other issues and -isms you've got going on)

When you post openly racist stuff, you put your Facebook friends in an awkward position, as you've now pretty much obligated them to dismiss you as a piece of shit. They have no choice but to dislike you, no matter how cool and funny you may have seemed up to that point. You can't just casually brush off someone's grinding hatred of another group of people. It kind of has to be addressed, especially when it's shoved in your face in an arena as public as their Facebook feed.

I address it by going "ugh, gross" and deleting that person.

Shut the f*** up.

Shit that wastes everybody's goddamned time

So, my Facebook feed is full of a lot of things that are not interesting to me. Links to quizzes to determine how much of a pervert you are. Links to 20 page slide shows of dogs and cats that are friends. Links to slide shows of celebrities who DEFINITELY HAD PLASTIC SURGERYYYYYY.

I'm not gonna tell you to stop posting this stuff, because even if it's not interesting to me, it's probably interesting to someone. I mean, it was clearly interesting to you or you wouldn't have posted it!

No, what I'm talking about is something far more sinister: the Facebook post that lures me in with the promise of interesting original content ... only to turn into a "Post this if you love your sister too!" or "Share this status if you also hate cancer!"

You tricked me into reading that garbage. You big jerk. For a minute, I really, truly believed that you had actually written something yourself -- something that I might enjoy; something that might tell me more about you as a person. I saw a post that wasn't an article share or a video somebody else made, but just a plain ol' handwritten text status, and I got excited. 

And then you gave me the ol' bait-and-switch and now I'm realizing I just spent all that time reading a stupid repost.

At first, I was like "wow, what a nice thing to say to all your Facebook friends!"

And then I was like "I am going to stab you with an eagle's talon."

Oftentimes, I even have to hit the "Read more" link to extend your stupid trash status out to read the whole thing. I don't even know I've been duped until I've clicked the link and it's too late.

You did this to me. You monster.


So, in conclusion, stop being a dumbass and everyone's Facebook experiences will improve. Post things that are interesting, cute, funny, or that will make me feel more connected to you. Post pictures of your kids, and share recipes you tried, and link to slide shows of people falling off things. Post about how your final exams went, and about your brother being in the hospital, and how excited you are for your trip to Spain. Share a BBC article about the most recent major world event, in case I haven't heard about it yet.

But don't post f***ing Facebook game updates.

We clear?


Here's another kitten:


Now we're all feeling fine.

How (not) to take a toddler to the doctor's office

It's been two weeks since I last published a blog post ... and what an eventful two weeks it has been!

On December 23, Audrey had to go to the doctor about a rash on her bottom, and it turned out that she had a case of Hand, Foot and Mouth disease. 

Having HFM over the holidays is a pretty shitty turn of events. Mostly because, as a highly contagious disease characterized by lots of itchy sores on the hands, feet, mouth, thighs, and bum, it makes you about as popular as a leprosy diagnosis.

So alas, poor Audrey was banned from the Christmas Eve party, and our Christmas Day guests also understandably bowed out. All of her cute Christmas outfits had to be shelved in favor of one-piece suits that kept her from shoving her whole arm down into her diaper to scratch her itchy butt. It was not fun. I do not recommend it.

The only good thing that came out of it? Look how stinking cute she looked in her hospital gown at the doctor's office:

"Mama I am sick."

But we all survived, and the sores cleared up, and life went on. Yesterday, back to the doctor's office we went for her 15-month well baby checkup. Let me just sigh for ten minutes nonstop, and then I'll tell you how THAT went:


The shenanigans started before we even left the house. Up until yesterday, Audrey had always treated the threshold of the front door the same way a well-trained dog might: she knows she has the ability to cross it, but will not do so unless given clear permission by her masters.

But yesterday, the threshold finally lost its power.

It was a cold, wet, rainy day, and as we prepared to leave for the hospital, I ran out to the driveway to start my car and let it warm up. I left the front door open, because I'm weirdly superstitious about having a closed door between me and my unsupervised child. WHO KNOWS WHAT SHE COULD BE DOING IN THERE. WHAT IF IT LOCKS MAGICALLY ON ITS OWN. 

As soon as I turned the car key in the ignition, I whipped around and saw a sweet little baby standing outside, up to her ankles in a puddle, one foot in a sock and one foot bare, holding her jacket in one hand and a shoe in the other. If she could talk, she'd have said something like "aren't you taking me with you? I'm all ready!"

Goddammit. She looked so cute.

Pick her up. Run her back inside. She starts to cry, as her feet are now quite cold. We need a new pair of pants and a new pair of socks. The car is still running in the driveway. We are now late.


Get to the doctor's office and check in. One of the TVs is showing Doc McStuffins, which is a show Audrey apparently enjoys, so we go and sit near that TV. She proceeds to stand 5 feet in front of the TV and point at it, pointing and pointing. What is she pointing at? No one knows. She sees a dog on the TV and starts screaming "WOOWOOWOOWOO", which is her best impression of "woof woof". A woman makes eye contact with this pointing, barking baby, and Audrey rewards her by immediately lifting her shirt up and flashing her big round Buddha belly. One hand holds the shirt up, the other hand rubs the belly suggestively. I tell her to put her belly away, and she starts laughing and takes off across the waiting room, belly blinding everyone who looks over. At this point, we have been at the doctor's office for less than ten minutes. Sigh.

We are called back to have Audrey's height and weight measured, and then told to stay in the part of the waiting room with all the toys until our room is available.

Audrey starts off playing happily with the toys mounted on the wall. When those lose their thrill, she switches to playing with the pen I was given to fill out forms, which has a big fake flower attached to it.

"This pen is WAY better than any of the toys they have in here."

Eventually she decides she wants me to read to her from the "books" they have available, which include a pamphlet about Hepatitis A and a couple issues of Journal magazine. 

"First, let me dust it with this flower."

Audrey's interest in learning about diseases of the liver wanes almost instantly, so I open up her diaper bag and pull out a fake remote control that plays sounds with each button. She finds a button she likes and hits it roughly fifteen thousand times in a row. I immediately regret this choice of toy to bring to the doctor's office, because if this remote is making ME want to beat someone to death, I can only imagine the effect it must be having on the people who didn't create the child who won't stop hitting the f***ing number 6 at a rate of four times per second.

Finally, Audrey grows bored with listening to "SIX-SI-SIX-SIX-SI-SI-SIX-SI-SIX" and chucks the remote down onto the floor. She looks up at me, smiles sweetly, and says "uh oh!" What a punk. That was no accident. 

As per usual, I give her the remote again -- she always gets a second chance -- but when she chucks it at the floor again, I take it away. "You made bad choices, so now you've lost privileges to play with that toy," I tell her, wondering when the hell I became such a mom. Unperturbed, she goes back to the flower pen until we are finally, FINALLY called back to see the doctor.

The rest of the appointment goes smoothly, thank the lord. We are sent off on our merry way with a smile and a clean bill of health. 

When we get to the car, I load Audrey in and then pull a bag of snacks out of the diaper bag. It's 11AM, which is the time she normally eats lunch, so I know she must be hungry. The snacks I've brought are as foolishly impractical as the decision to bring the remote control, though: a ziploc baggie full of goldfish crackers and cut up cheddar cheese. That is a snack that she absolutely cannot eat unattended out of a bag. It's going to be a nightmare. But at this point, I have no other choice, so I roll the sides of the bag down, hand it to her, and ask her as nicely as I can, "please don't make me regret this." And then I close her door and climb into the driver's seat in front of her.

For the next fifteen minutes, I can only watch helplessly in the rearview mirror as my worst fears are realized. The ziploc bag, completely empty, is held up and waved around within moments of our departure. Where are its contents? They are everywhere. Everywhere.

By the time we finally arrive at daycare, I no longer have any naturally brown hair growing out of my head. As I drop her off, the toddlers are all sitting down to lunch and Audrey immediately runs over and sits in a little chair to wait for her own lunch to arrive. The last thing I see before leaving for the day? My little girl stuffing an entire slice of pear into her face while waving happily at me.


Oh, and if you're wondering if Santa ended up visiting her despite her extreme naughtiness, the answer is of course he did. Santa's a pushover.

 "OMG SANTA CAME!!!!"

A new bike ... 

 A new shoe ...

Some new hats ...

 AND A ROCKING GIRAFFE THAT PLAYS MUSIC!!! GTFO!!!!!

But in Santa's defense, was there really any chance that Audrey would be denied presents this year? I mean really?

Nope. Not one single chance.