BIG! Top Look- Alikes of the Year!

Okay. One gigantic hobby of mine, and several of my friends, is discovering uncanny look-alikes of others we know. But to my surprise, this year I was called out to more doppelgangers than ever. It seemed like every few days, some stranger would approach me with comments about how I look like so-and-so. Here's a list of my favorites from this year.
Prince William. Some lady commented on this young gent and our similarities. Now, this is not a dead ringer, but it surely was flattering. I don't have that cool ginger rosacea shit either. Regardless, he's a royal guy and I thought it was cute of her, even if she was old enough to be the Queen.

Peyton Manning. My friend Kudzai pulled this one out on me. I mistook him for Tom Brady at first, but this one was a little closer than I thought.
He had a point, although this is more of what future-andy might look like, and I wouldn't have made a career out of throwing a ball, because pro sports are all bullshit!, and I'll get to that topic at a later date.










Adam Savage. Yes, the second half to the brilliant Mythbusters duo. I actually brought this one on all by myself. Hell, I was Adam Savage for Halloween this year for chrissakes!
There are some striking similarities in there though. The foreheads are nearly identical. The eyes are, eeehhhh, they're close, but he's got that blue-eyed ginger shit going on. His beard is admirable though, I'll let the savage have that.







Tom Paris. This one took me entirely by surprise. For starters, I couldn't give less of a shit about Star Trek. I'm sure its good, but give me The Millenium Falcon over the Enterprise any day. A good friend of mine pulled this gem on me one morning and I had no idea what he was talking about. I thought he meant Neelix (look him up, I kind of look like that guy too). But to my surprise, Tom is easily one of the top candidates for the Andylike of the year.

Matt Sundin. There's really not a whole lot that needs to be said about this one. I'm pretty sure it started as a joke, but this Swede almost looks more like me than me! Just look at that guy. The only major difference is that I have more skin under my chin. Matt literally can't look up and have his mouth closed at the same time; there just isn't enough skin there. I, on the other hand, have a shit load that I'm looking to get rid of. So Matt, if you want some ginger neck goods, I'm a phone call away.
PS. I may just get that tattoo because its hilarious and redicu-bad.

Josh Homme. Again, out of nowhere, but I can see some potential for candidacy in this guy. For those of you who do not know Josh, he's the front man for Queens of the Stone Age. Take a look around for some images. He also has red hair, I just couldn't get a decent photo that wasn't all scrunchy-guitar-faced.

Bobby Flay. Honestly, this is the OG look alike. I've been approached on numerous occasions about this guy. The funny thing is, I really don't think I look that much like him. I think the only physical quality we have in common is our complexion, and that's about it. It's really just funny to joke about.

Danny Elfman. Damn you Mike! I hate this comparison, but at a few points in our lives we did look like each other. He's a lot older looking now and is all grizzled from what I'm assuming is due to countless hours scoring films, brilliantly. He certainly is an elf man.

Wayne Gretzky. Probably the absolute furthest from the source on this whole list. This was Danny's top pic, which makes me laugh because I don't see any of me in that face. Which is fine, because every science experiment needs a control - something to tilt the scale a bit.

Orc from The Lord of the Rings.
Every time Mike and I watch The Return of the King, we spot this one stupid orc at the Pelennor Fields battle and laugh. He's in the middle of firing this arrow and makes this ridiculous sound - which I'm awesome at emulating. Regardless, we both think that if I looked like an orc, it would be this lucky archer.
PS. this pic took me so long to find that if you don't laugh I'll be shooting you with an arrow myself.

monday morning

I had another great day in the studio today. Early start, cup of coffee, full generator and some of my favorite albums to listen to. After I emptied out the piss bucket (this space is underground, don't ask) and cleaned some dry brushes, I got to painting. The most difficult thing I think in landscape painting is revisiting a piece after around a week. Sometimes I need to paint wet-to-dry, so I need to allow the paintings the time to dry out a bit. Colors never seem to match and it's a massive struggle sometimes to get back into that palette and understanding what was where and how they've melded together in the past.

It's cold down there this winter. I can see my breath while I work and it drives me to distraction because I'm constantly warming my hands and blowing my nose. I'm starting to work my way into a more safe way of approaching chemicals and oil paints. It's not uncommon for me to wear plastic gloves and a cotton face mask, and I'll usually leave the door open to make up for my five inch "vent" that couldn't even ventilate a fart. Which leads me to my next point,

For those of you that don't know, I'm half way finished filming a mini-documentary about a trip I took through western North America early this past summer. One part of the trip documented all my painting research and sketches (as well as the trip itself), and the second will include the production of all the artwork, under certain circumstances.
Those being that I am willingly encasing myself in a concrete space for five days with no leaving and no sense of time, with the goal in mind of starting and completing at least six large-scale landscape works. I don't plan on leaving the room for this period which means:

no power (because it's technically a storage space)
no sunlight (also meaning no sense of what time of day it really is)
no watches (because I think that's funny)
no mirrors (because I'd like to see the shit-hole look and surprise when I come out
no running water (again, it's not made for living)
and no light switch (there's no switch; it's a motion-sensor, which means I cant stop moving)

Needless to say, I feel as though I'm getting very close to undertaking this adventure, and it kinda scares me (those who know me well know that I've been talking about this challenge for years now), but it's also really, really exciting.

hologram

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hook ups

I read a really interesting article in the Globe and Mail yesterday.

It was an excellent article, and a surprising one considering the usual prudence of the Globe. The article was all about how there is a lot of sex going on between athletes during the Olympics. I thought to myself,

"Hell yeah!"

For whatever reason, it never really occurred to me that these people may actually be attracted to one another. Maybe because (like many) I've always perceived athletes as these robotic units that have a single purpose and nothing else: to compete to the best of their ability. But, if you think about it hard enough, there is no better scenario for the worlds biggest hook-up-fest.

Think about it! Thousands of gorgeous, fit, flexible,young, taught athletes, all in the same city at once? Shit, that sounds about right to me. And why not? Athletes get turned on just like everybody else, if not more. If it's not from all the endorphins from exercising so much, it's probably from watching guys and girls walking around in tight-ass spandex. Apparently it happens more in the second half of the games, when most of the competitors have finished their events, are done stressing out, and are just looking to burn off a couple before going home.
I also bet that certain events spawn more sex that others.
Such as, ohhh, gymnastics? (as seen in exhibit A)

exhibit A.

You'd be a damn fool not to.
I also wonder if there's ever been any huge sex scandals throughout Olympic history. I'll give you an example.
For those of you who may not know who Michael Phelps is, you've probably been extradited to an overseas prisoner of war camp. Phelps has currently earned six gold medals in swimming this summer, with two more events on the way, and needs to be stopped.
I wonder if there are any sex-related plans of sabotage in the works to put an end to Phelps' winning streak. Is it totally unrealistic to stage a sexual encounter with a cute little Swedish number, who could either inject Phelps with steroids (stripping him of all his medals), or cause some other form of damage? Maybe the girl could cramp up his feet. You know that feeling you get when you're swimming for too long and your foot cramps up? Ah, that probably wouldn't work. He'd probably hit her with all of his gold medals, which he probably hangs from his boner.

Either way, it was an excellent article. I'm sure it's on The Globe's website.