I open and throw away the mail on my kitchen counter from as long ago as October that is threatening to fall over and crush Guardcat.
I suddenly realize: “Oh! I’ve got unpaid bills! Oh my! How did that happen?!? Why is Architectural Digest billing me? I don’t even get that magazine! This is a travesty!”
Why do I keep getting things from AARP. What is AARP anyways? The sound you make when the cat jumps on your stomach during “Dancing with the Stars”? Although dig that current issue with a picture of Jamie Lee Curtis and her naked boobs at 50?
And then there’s the truly excessive cleaning. The shaking of the toaster over the sink to Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire”. I think I might have possibly sprained my neck this morning. But dammit, there’s not a single crumb left in the toaster. Instead my entire kitchen is now knee deep in Whole Wheat and English Muffin crumbs. Maybe I can just dump some water and yeast on it and make a giant pizza.
Did I mention the inappropriate behavior? Nekkidness. Oh dear. Dear Certain People of the Internet: Hope you didn’t need to call 911 when you saw some certain photos. I was just reliving the 60’s, you know. Free love. Naked boobs. I see naked people every week. Naked is beautiful. Except if AARP is bugging you with subscription requests. And if you don’t have Jamie Lee Curtis’ plastic surgeon. Sorry, everyone.
And then there’s that other inappropriate behavior. The one I’ve been prone to for many years. The one that would probably prompt “A” to give me an appointment before his vacation next week. Hint, hint.
But really, the only thing that’s really been keeping me on the straight and narrow has been my art class. Its one of the few things that shuts down the continuous negative chattering that goes on in my head. I guess its because I have to actually stop and focus on something for more than 5 seconds.
I’m also getting ready for my first art show for 2008. Its the crazy, anarchistic monster/big boobed women/space alien one. I really enjoy it, even though I’m kinda not hip or crazy enough for it. Who’d thought, right??
Anyways, I went to a drawing marathon this weekend up at the local university and drew some nudes, as usual and then they had a big sheet of butcher paper on the wall where you could draw anything you wanted. So I drew this little guy.
I didn’t get to keep him though, since he was up on a hallway length sheet of paper, so I might repaint him and submit him to the weird show in mid-April.
But back to the self talk thing. Even though things slow down considerably when I’m working, I do make up stories about our models as I draw them. If I like our model and they’re not just sitting there like bulimic, catatonic sacks of rice, they get nice stories. Franco Zefferilli directs. There’s beautiful cinematography. The soundtrack is by Nino Rota. And I can usually draw something halfway decent.
But if they’re bad….well, they’ll definitely get the weird Charlie Kaufmann interpretation. Lethargic people working on the 13th floor where the elevator doesn’t quite go. Or they’ll be inexplicably left off on a New Jersey turnpike after entering John Malkovich’s brain through a heating vent.
Example: This week we had a new model. I always cut them some slack if they’re new. I mean, they’re suddenly naked with 18 of my best friends and I’m sure its pretty nerve-wracking. Some are nervous. Some are stiff. And some, like the woman this week, just really want to show off their awesome new boob job….that hadn’t quite healed yet….and had some really wicked scary stitches. Eek! I guess if you pay a lot for new boobs, you want Everybody to see them! …even if they’re not quite healed yet and are oozing a teensy bit.
I have no problem with plastic surgery. If I ever won the lottery I’d get a nose job and liposuction, like immediately. But this woman looked scary, especially when she turned towards me for one pose and YIKES!!!! It had to be what I could only describe as BS, the Botox Stare. Nothing in her face moved and her eyes looked glazed. And did she even blink? I don’t think so.
When I first started going to my drawing class, most of our models were young students. Now, in recent months, we’ve been getting what I call The Stepford Wives. All 40 something women, who have had obvious work done. I mean yay for us older chicks for jumping up on stage and ripping off our clothes. But gack to only doing it to show off their expensive plastic surgery and taking a break from their pilate class. I mean whatever happened to just being natural. Chins hairs. Varicose veins. Our fewer, natural models are so much more interesting to draw then the supposedly perfect MILF editions of Elder Barbie.
The week before was…well…probably the most intriguing week ever in my class. Two men. Together. Nekkid.
Unfortunately, it was also the day my mom was supposed to come home from the hospital and I was supposed to go get her but since it was the same sucky hospital I had been at recently, they probably lost the paperwork or a doctor was fondling a 90 year old woman, so she did indeed stay til Thursday, which she really needed anyways, since they had just slit her neck open Monday, to scoop out all the gunk from the last 79 years. I’ve been scared to death about this operation for months. Fun, yes? No, its been an absolute freakin’ nightmare, especially since she has dragged it out since last July, asking for second and third opinions and firing doctors, trying to delay the operation. But she made it through and is now healing for an upcoming cancer operation. I’m happy just emotionally exhausted.
Anyways, back to nekkid men. I really wanted to see this/them/it. One of the models is this really outrageous guy, a local judge/nudist who does the most unusual poses. He’s modeled in drag, on a bicycle, tied in ropes, with boxes on his head, with chainsaws, with a burlap sack over his head right after the Abu Ghraib photos. He’s Charlemagne’s favorite, right Charlemagne? Hee hee! Just kidding.
The other guy is pretty mundane. He looks a little like Alex Trebeck. Although Tall Skinny Guy did draw this drawing of him as a Super Hero with an enormous penis. Not sure where that came from.
Anyways, I was kind of anxious when their robes came off. Anxious and a little warm. I’ve been seeing naked people for 4 1/2 years now. It means nothing to me. I’ve even talked to them…naked. But seeing two penises at once was just a little much for poor witty. Phew! Damn those Her-mones!
We have a series of 5 two minutes poses, 5 one minute poses, 5 30 second poses, a 10 minute pose, a 20 minute pose, a 30 minute pose and then an hour. They started out doing manly men things like arm-wrestling — nude….pretend fighting — nude…tug-a-war –nude. And then they started upping the ante… Oh my goodness. Because by the end of the night, the poses went from swaggery machismo to full embraces and naughty bits touching. Gunsmoke to Brokeb@ck Mtn.
It was like the best $8 I EVER spent!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Afterwards I made a joke to “L”. “I wish someone would pay me to lay naked for an hour…oh wait, that’s prostitution!” Zue, of course, came running over and said she would do that pose with me.
WTF? Eww! So.not.happening.
But as far as the inner voice that is usually talking endlessly while I am drawing and creating elaborate movie scenarios… about the only thing it was really chattering about was…”oh wow, his penis almost touched the other guy. Wait. Oh. He’s turning. Oh! Oh wait. Oh my god, its touching the other guy’s leg. I wonder if he’s getting turned on. I wonder if anything is going to happen. Eee. Yikes. ”
I guess you can see why I need to be medicated.