when squirrels answer the door

When I went to pick up “L” the Hippy Chick yesterday morning, she was running a little late as usual. I’m pretty used to it. We were on the way to bringing our artwork down to a little dicey bar downtown for our art show last night. So I’m standing around outside her front door waiting for her. Suddenly I see this little flicker of movement inside the kitchen. She has 4 or 5 cats so I figure its probably one of her cats making a mad dash for freedom. Instead I see a freakin’ squirrel running around in “L”s kitchen. I was like WTF??

Naturally I yelled into “L”, “Hey! There’s a squirrel in your house!!” And then I hear from within the house, “Oh, yeah. We have lots of things living here. Squirrels. Cats. Artists.”


Anyways, when “L” finally got in my car there was much screaming in delight when she saw my artwork for the show. So much so I was almost embarrassed. And it was rather ironic because my horoscope for Saturday had said “Everyone’s stroking your ego right now. You’re trying hard not to let the adoration go to your head, but that’s where it’s moving. Step back from this and gain some perspective. Is all this worth the emotional hangover?”

And to that I say….”YES…YESYES!!!!” What’s wrong with getting a little ego stroking? I’ve gotten so little over the course of a lifetime, why not ramp it up a little for a couple of days? Because the last couple of months have been particularly noteworthy in the fact that they have been totally absent of any praise and witty-smooching. So bring it on sistah!

It actually all started with my haircut on Monday. I got the haircut for the Bob Dylan concert with Meany and didn’t really like it. The haircutter kinda went ba-zonkers while chatting and cut it way too short and made me look like a freakin’ yuppie soccer-mom. So when I met Meany for the concert I had no choice but to wear a beret to hide what I thought was the worst haircut  since that hallowed hair disaster of 1977 which made me cry for 8 days.   
But then when I got to my art class on Wednesday night, Charlemagne started acting all gay excited about my hair, saying how young I looked and grabbing people walking by and saying, “Doesn’t witty look younger? Now doesn’t she??” He even later privately discussed my new possible career venture into nude modeling…..Huh? (horrified look!)  I guess, you know, since I looked sooooo young.

But okay, I guess I was digging it a little. You know, hearing how great I looked. And how young I looked. I mean, who wouldn’t? I don’t get to hear that very often. Or…ever.

So anyways, “L” and I get down to the dicey bar and I unload all the artwork. She had her’s and her room mate’s. I had mine and the Tall Skinny Guy from my art class, who was going to be out of town this weekend. As usual the place was dark and dank and full of really bizarre but interesting art. This was, after all, the show that was being promoted as “Not for the weak of art” (heh) and primarily consists of artwork of women with big boobs, devils, skulls, gruesome murder scenes and did I mention devils? Satan was actually the theme of the show this year. So who do I think of when I think of Satan? G.W. Bush of course, who was one of the key elements of my submission.

So I hung out at the hanging for about an hour, mainly looking at all the strange art and strange people.  I then headed home for a quick nap and dinner and then back to town for our little one night show.

As expected, it was pretty much weirdness personified. David Lynch to the nth power. I’m not really that fond of social outings as you might know. I have social anxiety, ya see. And then put me in a bar, where I already feel like a third left foot, since I don’t drink. And then fill the place with people who look like they just got squished out of the weirdest Stephen King novel ever. And yeah, I pretty much felt like that.

That’s not to say there wasn’t people there that I knew. I saw JS and his wife there and chatted briefly. The Sci Fi guy, whose event it was, came over and did an Andy Warhol, taking an unexpected picture of us together. I hugged the Goth twins. And then “L” the Hippy Chick finally came in with a cane and I took her picture with her artwork. She was thrilled to have one of her paintings prominately displayed for the first time. She even did a little happy dance. I was happy for her. My painting, on the other hand, sort of got jammed behind some sound equipment. I was a little disappointed. I had one of the Goth Twins take my picture with it, but it didn’t come out. So boo on that!

I meandered for a while until I finally went outside for some fresh air, since this was what they called a “Smoker”,  as in 98% of the people in the bar were either smoking cigars, clove cigarettes or regular cigarettes, all of which made me feel kind of pukey after a while.

Once outside…yay…a bunch of smokers came outside to smoke…right where I was resting. Thanks! Professional Artist Guy lit up right next to me, but I just kind of wanly smiled, since I like him. Soon I did something I virtually never, ever, ever do. I struck up a conversation with a stranger. Can you imagine? No, it wasn’t a guy, unfortunately, but some woman who randomly mentioned the Moon was in Sagittarius, to which I replied, “Oh, that would be good for partying.” and she said, “My Moon is in Sagittarius” and I said “So is mine!” and she said, “I’m Aquarius.” and I said, “So am I!” Anyways, we were soon chatting. Okay, it was mostly her, but since we were both artists and both Aquarius, we were soon chatting about our anxiety problems. Go figure, huh? She had that pesky yet fairly common Walmart anxiety. I had art show at a dicey bar anxiety.  But it was really when she started talking about how stupid yuppies were at some local snooty store, that I truly knew she was Aquarius! Yay, us!

I finally went back into the bar, because it was cold and rainy outside and plopped down on a couch. I decided, if everyone else was going to be weird, so could I! So I just sprawled out on the couch like Courtney Love coming off a heroin binge and started snapping random pictures of people walking by like the girl dressed as cat woman with 15″ high boots and all the pale vampire guys wearing eye liner. “L” the Hippy Chick finally came and sat on the couch and I whined about the fact that I wasn’t cool and I didn’t know how to dress at these events.

How old are you witty? 15?

The band finally started playing about 9:20. At least I think they did. I could barely see them for the smoke. My newfound Aquarian friend had rejoined me by then and kept high fiving me everytime she said something fascinating, which was often…like that the guy in the band had just cut his hair. Its just one of those things you keep blankly saying, “Really?” and then thinking, didn’t I just say that? The band did issue forth quite a blistering performance whose lyrics I think included:

“I’m gonna kick some ass

I’m gonna kick some fucking ass

I’m gonna kick some mother fucking ass.


Very Gershwinesque, if you ask me. And ouch, so loud, I think it cracked my cranial lobe. It was finally about five minutes to ten when I realized 1) I was choking on smoke and was about to die. 2) I was reallllllly choking on smoke and was truly about to die. So I bid adieu to my two lady friends and squirmed my way through the crowd until I hit the little side exit to the outdoors. And more importantly fresh air. It was really cold and rainy out, but strangely, I think I probably felt about like that squirrel did earlier in the day. Like how the hell do I get out of here?!?


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9 Responses to “when squirrels answer the door”

  1. crankygirl Says:

    Events like that make me happy to go home. But it’s nice to go out…sometimes.

  2. Joe Says:

    Maybe you just need to get yourself a “prop” drink to hang onto when you’re at those parties. Like a Screwdriver hold the vodka or something. That way you’re drinking something, it’s good for you AND you have something to do with your hands besides wring them in anxiety.

  3. Poolie Says:

    The prop drink is a good idea. Indeed. I do that all the time.

  4. LA Says:

    Even I, the smoker, cannot bear to be trapped in a smoky room. Far too used to being outside with the other nicotine delinquents. Delighted to hear of your adventure and how chatty you were! Well done!

    At least this is one anxiety we share, ‘Am I dressed right?’ anxiety never, ever goes away. Though I act blithe about it I do stew a bit about being over/under dressed or too boring. I think this is why my grandmother stuck with the Chanel suits for 40 years. She swore that no matter where you went you were always dressed appropriately if wearing Chanel. She didn’t go to goth bars much though. Heh. ~LA

  5. hil Says:

    You can use the mantra I use…”I’m an artist. I don’t need to blend. I’m different and dressed funny because I am a crazy artistic genius! Don’t talk to me. I’m above you.” LOL! Works for me!

  6. freshhell Says:

    So, 1977 was a bad year for you and your hair, too, huh?

  7. geekbetty Says:

    I want a squirrel!!!!

  8. Violet Says:

    I would also like a squirrel. Does it fly? That would be even better.

    And, congratulations on your show! Way to kick some motherfuckin ass… ahoooooooooooooo!


  9. Stepfordtart Says:

    Ive used prop drinks, too, although usually they were an alco-free version of what Id hope some guy would buy me later in the evening – they go “Hi, can i get you a drink/” I hold up my half drunk plain tonic water and say “Large G & T please!” Worked every time! s x

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