Its true I don’t have a boyfriend, but I am suffering from a love hangover this week or so since Valentine’s Day. Thanks for the all your lovely birthday greetings and wonderful gifties, everyone. You guys, rock!
I’m now officially old. I got something from AARP this last week: “Join us. Go play shuffleboard and mainline Maalox. ” No thanks. I’m still young, especially mentally. I’m actually going in the opposite direction. As a kid I had to be the adult, because I came from a dysfunctional family. Now? Its all about acting stupid, snorting Diet Coke through my nose and checking my profile in MySpace.
I also have this crazy thing where I think everyone has a crush on me. I mean I may not have gotten any flowers or chocolates for Valentine’s Day, but I’m quite sure a couple of you may think I’m like a total sack of catnip. Or a total sack of something…
First up? Guardcat. She was just up on my desk attempting to salaciously lick my fingers while I was typing. Is that normal? I mean, I know she’s like totally in love with me, but there was a slight possibility there might have been a tiny smudge of margerine on my fingers from when I made a grilled cheese a little earlier. Cats are so fickle, you know.
And then there is “J”, a guy I used to work with. No, he never took me out on my birthday, but he did show up Valentine’s Day for a collage making class at the place I used to work. Imagine! Art classes at my old job! Who saw that coming?
Anyhoo, I knew I wanted to go to this “class” because 1) I totally wanted to show off my art-making prowess because I’m an asshole. And 2) I also wanted to see who was “teaching” the class.
The woman, it turns out, was someone who had painted a few paintings back in college about 30 years ago. She was pleasant enough, but had only done collages once or twice in her life, so her main direction to people was: “Just think of your dreams and glue these (magazine pictures and yarn) to your paper.”
Isn’t that sort of vague, especially for people on medication?
Anyways, within minutes I was like Edward Scissorhands on Red Bull, shredding and cutting photos from my uber-cool “Art News” I had brought from home. The music was pretty good too. Bob Dylan, the Beatles, James Taylor. You know how us old farts like those guys.
Not many people were doing much though. I began to think they really didn’t know what to do. And also many people are timid about doing art for the first time, thus the need for a facilitator who, you know, is actually helping them, rather than, you know, just standing there saying “Spectacular” after they glue a piece of paper to a poster board. But “whatevah”. That was my old employer’s decision.
Get over it witty!!
Anyways, suddenly “J” appears at my side. I didn’t even see him come in. You know…the Edward Scissorhands thing…and he starts chatting. He is a chatter, that one. I think he wished me a Happy Birthday. He had also finally called me at home the night of my birthday and left a very formal message….”Hello witty (my last name — like I wouldn’t know). This is “J” (his last name– like I wouldn’t know that either). I hope you had a good birthday today. Maybe I can take you out to lunch for your birthday sometime. See you soon. “
I guess its something easier to say than do, I’m starting to realise, since we used to go to lunch all the time when we worked together.
So anyways I was soon trying to get “J” to do some artwork with me. He’s such a chicken. I’ve been trying to get him to come to my nekkid drawing class for months now, but he’s afraid he’ll get sexually aroused if he sees a boob. Oh dear!
I’ve been going to my class for 4 1/2 years now and have only gotten “warm” once. I think it was merely a combination of girl hormones and an extremely luscious young Adonis boy model who inexplicably started talking to me from the stage. I got all flustered and suddenly wanted to have his children. It was tres embarrassing.
Anyways, “J” didn’t want to do the art stuff at first. He said he’d have to be perfect and there would be a lot of measuring of scraps of paper involved. I told him to just “be free”. He finally starting carefully examining everything microscopically and doing highly mathematical calculations about exactly where everything would/should/could go on the paper, so I just let him do his thing. Oy! Such drama.
He finally finished it and then shyly handed it to me saying, “Happy birthday”. It was a page from a Japanese calendar with a pasted on quote about FEAR across the top with two sets of smoochy red lips on the bottom corner.
Rrrrrrinnnnggggg! Hello? Freud? This married man just made me a collage with big red smoochy lips and a quote about fear on it. Please advise.
I, of course, didn’t psychoanalyze anything as he was standing there waiting for me to say something. I just thanked him. I mean, what else could I do? I’ve never had a guy make me a collage with two sets of big red smoochy lips on it before.
I guess I should just be happy that he didn’t attempt to lick me, like Guardcat. Phew! Now THAT would have been tres embarrassing.