Hello. I’m having fuh.
An chummy artist tries to initiate small-talk.
An artist confesses to being heterosexual, despite putting in a request for felatio in the men’s room. He also spills the beans that my mother has been in my bedroom without my permission.
Elaine is depicted in this illustration wearing a cocktail gown.
A portrait of Andrew closely resembles a wild mushroom.
invent your own world *Sarah M
Jorge invents a world (and revises it several years later) where a curly-haired crybaby has that budding eyelash.
A hybrid vagina of some sort (“Bad”?) has tagged the men’s room.
An arrow points to the exact location where the treasure was buried.
An artist exposes a coward tattletale.
A tacky advertisement from the Herzog Eye Institute shows a real slowdown in their marketing creativity.
A conflicted vampiric homophobe with a nice haircut is oddly drawn to penis-gazing.
A devil’s advocate wastes our time.
Reports of voter-intimidation are confirmed; Weird Al does his version of a Bangles song in written form.
A vagina that slightly resembles a grown woman sings in to a microphone.
The “Overly profound washroom graffiti” group is starting to typecast itself?
A goat’s penis is not at all what I anticipated; most surprising is the serpentine-tongue and the need for thier penis to have eyes.
An apparent hybrid of a clitoris-penis, captioned with advise to have traditional (heterosexual) intercourse and to continue urinating.
Two artists confess to paying for sexual intercourse with the Mayor of Toronto; another dreams about it.
Anatomical illustration of a female rodent’s genitalia.
Bald men are prompted to continue dressing in red shorts and yellow shoes.
My mother gives algebraic advice; it sounds very to an artist.
A sad Yoda has changed his tune; the new message: Try
An artist explains the rules for the house bathroom-game.
An advertisement for beer shows a man with two penises introducing himself to a man wearing a one-piece.
The toilet-doctor has given his diagnosis.
A beautiful amputee is depicted with a knee-disorder, captioned by a corollary regarding eating in the latrine.
A pathetic artist can’t do anything right.
An artist’s mother is feces-flavoured.
A shameless artist plugs a brand for sponsorship.
An artist suggests incest to sad singles.
A very relieved or surprised artist has a very cold or warm bum.
A weight loss program that involves you not collecting feces in your bowels.
A first-time artist is possessed by a cunt-demon.
Artists bicker on the semantics of black romance.
Buried bones return the favour.
This artist will not eat my aged sperm.
A misogynistic artist thinks that women should keep quiet and bare children most of the time.
A sad artist’s sad logic is graded.
A panhandler leaves no empty coffee cup or baseball hat.
An Avant-garde artists forces us to think when he suggests having intercourse with semi-digested spewed stomach-mass.
The buds of a beautiful flower begin to bloom.
This artist brazenly admits to fucking with the city.
An instruction manual on how to live a girl’s life.
A fridge-light sort of problem has been discovered on the back of a door comprised of a new European language.
This artist is finally becoming less picky.
I have a reliable contact.
K.W. introduces Boolean Logic to broaden her goals.
An artist demands that the visitors pay for elevator music; he’s met with resistance from a drunk pirate.
A delegate from the city of Calgary sends a love-letter to Toronto; Toronto - the playboy - doesn’t respond, as usual.