dadapotato(e)

yeah. there’s stan­dards. you fol­low those rules and then put every­thing in log­i­cal or­der based on that. it’s a puz­zle with more or less limited/correct so­lu­tions. it’s not re­al­ly sub­jec­tive. dada is sub­jec­tive. like, fuck, it could be anything.
 

use grid ap­ply for­mu­la use easy to read fonts save at­tach send done.

just uhh, like, weird shit. but it’s cool weird shit.

dada is like … it could be a horse.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 

a horse with british airways!

a horse with british air­ways … but drink­ing espresso
not the horse, the airways
also a mis­at­trib­uted quote about …

lob­ster panties!
 

          WORN
          BY
          REAL
          FAKE
          LOBSTERS
          AND
          ON
          SALE
          AT
          THE
          GAP
 

shigel­la outbreak!
next to a back­yard bbq ru­inéd by too much ra­di­a­tor fluid!

but the ra­di­a­tor flu­id is pur­ple and tho theres too much and it ru­ined the bbq it makes for a great slip n slide …
 

          for cats
 

 

the bbq go­ers are allergic,
of course,

          and there’s dog hair
          in their food now

turns out dog hair ac­tu­al­ly has great nu­tri­tion­al val­ue – which makes as much sense as chia heads are now con­sid­ered nu­tri­tion – but peo­ple don’t want dog hair in their food, they send it all back
 

t rex doesn’t mind. eats all the salad.

damn t rex.
he nev­er un­der­stood the in­con­spic­u­ous guest list of a com­mu­ni­ty church.

but at least he fresh­ly ironed his apron be­fore at­tack­ing the snick­er­doo­dle tree.

mel blanc ate all the ketchup. yes­ter­day, with ash­ley, so­nia and cara.

which was frus­trat­ing but turns out car­rot cake makes an ex­cel­lent substitute.

palvin grabbed the palates and smashed them next to the lib­ertines! fran­co was wrong, that ven­om was­n’t amer­i­can, it need­ed a coat of arms with­out all the maggots!

and the taco stand ran out of muffins

 
 

 

          no 

the for­mi­da­ble smell left don­keys in the mall, try­ing on glass­es, drink­ing the brine of the dead sea with flip­per none the wiser.

she’s short, inked, and not a skin­ny, skin­ny per­son. and she has a HUGE al­ter­na­tive following.

flip­per does­n’t kno. we know flip­per does­n’t know. flip­per knows we know flip­per does­n’t know. tutus.

the glass­es are an ill fit. check the tar­taru­ga shell for clues.

An abalone in­lay tells all to those who choose not to listen.

dan quayle held dubya’s head as he threw up on the mid­dle east. ‘nas­daq,’ he whis­pered as he grabbed the paint brush with all his mustard.

please RSVP at UR ear­li­est con­ve­nience store!

the mus­tard was di­sheveled and quidam was offended.

nev­er leave quidam in a lurch. the dog hair does­n’t wax all the fram­bic niel­lo captains.

          keep ur feet off the goose.

goos­es know what oth­ers think are just plainclothes.

o cap­tain my captain,
where for art thou liber­frack­les. i need to bor­row a femur.

we thought it lost. till we smelled the donkey.

keep louis away from the don­key. he likes the fe­murs just a bit too much.

fe­mur feels fran­tic for fe­lic­i­ty. fur­ry far­bles found fascism.

          fuck!    bar­ley is com­ing down with farley!

put them in the are­na with a glad­i­o­la! the num­ber 7 is pure. seek the lake and u will run out of cigarettes.

what is the best way to paint a spray?

smoke ris­es in the ether. grav­i­ty is em­bar­rassed. you must spray the paint to paint the spray but do it back­wards and calami­ty will learn sign language.

          i bit my clambone.

it re­al­ly liked it. but did­n’t know its mother.

he was a boneclam of much splen­dor. very brave.

found the hands on ap­proach was ne’er good enough.

          the tute­lage of crabap­ples fell on deaf ears.
          we must rejoice!
 

the fleshy cows re­belled against the mais; then fol­lowed the apes, who had the same prob­lems with de­odor­ant that we do.

the salt mines mock us.

the cows know not, but we will show them our rental.

the city coun­cil drank too much espres­so to­day and won’t leave them out of it.
Melvin brought a car load.

the town in ques­tion crunched too many numbers.

cos­by showed up and start­ed talk­ing too much about tunnels.

one can nev­er talk to much of tun­nels when speak­ing to the queen of cheese.

swiss chard takes exception.

swiss chard is too neu­tral when speak­ing of the mis­te­rios of queen victoria.

but ha­banero man­go hats dis­close too little.
it’s all in all much too pe­tit and impractical.
 

cos­by can make them talk!

but what they say, so much like sal­ad oil on a pop­si­cle stick.

we must reeval­u­ate our liver.
trex doubts ur commitment.

trex nev­er met an an­chovy he did­n’t like.

the an­chovies have sub­mit­ted their proposal.

they left their only copy on pub­lic transit.

by law, that area is re­served for quesadillas.

– they wear sul­lied wife beat­ers when no one is watching.

          we don’t al­low bikes.
          only hot sauce.

which is sad, said pe­ter boyle.

the shirt died
gone forever

well that’s what’s up

          i think i learned my con­fi­dence from a potato
          a very self con­scious potato.
 

—rik­ki more­house, steve mehallo

Flom­mist Rik­ki More­house is a mod­ernist, log­i­cal and or­ga­nized; she works as a graph­ic de­sign­er. When not de­sign­ing, she can be found climb­ing rocks, ab­sorbed in Yoga, Pi­lates, Muay Thai and Net­flix. She is also one of the co-founders of Sac­Cirque. Flom­mist Steve Mehal­lo is a graph­ic de­sign­er, il­lus­tra­tor, font de­sign­er, ed­u­ca­tor, food­ie and gad­fly. He is the cre­ator and founder of FLOMM! Copy­right © 2015 Rik­ki More­house and Steve Mehal­lo – ’cept for the gifs. Not re­al­ly sure where those came from.

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