Sean’s hand when he got home from school this afternoon. I had to grab a picture of it before Sean washes it off oooh sometime this month. Heh.
The doodler doesn’t fall far from the tree.
I have doodled everywhere, on my hand, my arms, my jeans (a chick thing?) and even paper (gasp!)
I have several pairs of doodled on pajama pants which are perma stained with them. Just the other day I drew a happy face on my big toe while watching TV. In Pink.
I doodle in meetings, when I’m trying to formulate an idea or when I am bored out of my tree.
I doodled my ex boss when she turned 50 with a “sex after 50” book beside her on her desk ( which it turns out she actually GOT as a present how weird is that!!!? it had blank pages. Hah!) She loved it so much she put it up on on the wall of her office.
My friend who went on a booty call after a long umm stretch was presented with a doodle that contained her with every phallic symbol under the sun. She still has it all these years later, she doesn’t have the guy anymore though. See doodles last.
I have defaced magazines, including those in doctor’s waiting rooms. Many a Supermodel has received a mustache and wart makeover courtesy of me and my vicious pen. Oh come on, they deserve it for their genetic superiority right?
Doodles are spontaneous artistic expressions. They aren’t always GREAT but they are always fun.