It only takes someone a few seconds of being in my house for the first time to realize, “Hey, she must like the Cure. Like, REALLY like the Cure.” There is honestly at least one picture of Robert Smith on every wall downstairs.
Although Robert still rules over most of my heart — and walls — there have been some new men who have managed to plunge their flags into unclaimed acreage. So, a few weeks ago, I asked my e-friend Francesco of DiPoe to whip me up a custom portrait of Craig Owens from Chiodos.
When he showed me the mockup, I splooged a little. I ran around in a little circle, squealing a little. I tugged on Henry’s arm a little. But it didn’t prepare me for yesterday, when the actual painting arrived, safely packaged, on my front porch. I opened it with trembling hands (which was scary since I’m not very skilled with a box cutter when my hands are STEADY) and proceeded to pant and scream and repeat, “OMFG” until Henry was all, “OK, I get it. I got it. You like it. Yay.”
Craig is already at home on my wall, and I think Robert is a little swoll, but come on – a girl’s gotta have her flings.