artist birthdays aren’t like others

What a week. I have somehow managed to avoid ever going to a funeral for  my entire 50 years, until my first one this week. Won’t go into details, except to say, I went to support my friend, but mourned for my Dad since I never got to go to his funeral and all the feelings I have pent up inside for him kind of came flowing out as people remembered a person I barely knew. It really perhaps was like letting out 3 gallons from Hoover Dam, but at least it was something and fortunately I had tissues for the inevidible waterworks.

In other news tonight, my mother called and in a very low serious voice said “witty.” Whenever she does that I always think that she’s found my blog and is about to lay a three hour guilt trip on me. Instead she had just talked to her cousin in Michigan. This cousin still owns a house here in town which belonged to her mother who died almost 20 years ago. But the house still sits just as it was left 20 years ago. Well, except like when it was broken into  4-5 times, since nobody lives there and her daughter has refused to ever let anyone in because she wanted to leave it as an utter and total shrine to her mother. 

Yes, insanity does definitely run in our family.

So anyhoo, I guess my cousin, who thinks she is about to die, has finally decided to un-shrine her mother’s house, and wants someone to  live there. Guess who? Go ahead guess? Yeah, me! I guess my mother was really talking me up, saying how responsible I was (she forgot cute, dammit) and my cousin finally said I could live there for free and I would only have to pay for the utilities. And you would think I would be sitting here saying “Yay! Whoopee! Free rent! Wahoo! I’m rich! I’m rich! A whole house for Guardcat to run around in! Two freakin’ bedrooms! I could have my own art studio! Woo hoo!”

But no. Unfortunately there are some minor problems, like:

  • A large hole in the roof in the main bedroom, alias a giant squirrel condo,  where it is probably snowing on my aunt’s bed as we speak.
  • Ummmm…..bullet holes in the bedroom window. Yeah. Some gangstah got busy this summer and shot out several of the windows on the side of the house. My cousin had someone put large plastic panels over the shot out windows, but still.  Gulp!
  • The neighborhood is the kind of neighborhood where the emphasis is on ‘hood, if you get my drift.
  • There is no water, the house smells like mold and some homeless guy was living there briefly and was pooping in the toilet with no water in it and it literally looks like a giant shit hole, plus…
  • All the porch lights are smashed out, you know, so gangstas can break in without being seen! 

So, I guess you get the general idea. The house is filled with some really decent antiques…what hasn’t been stolen….yet. And in some past years I had considered living there, that is, before the bullets started flying this last summer. I am a total whimp though. I mean I was terrified when some wacko guy with garden shears was staring up at my apartment at midnight, smoking a cigarette. Imagine, what would happen if a guy with a glock showed up on my doorstep?

And yet tonight my mom was still saying….”Oh witty, you should really move there. And then “P” would sign the house over to you and you could sell it and get a better apartment. I even told her how nice you were (huh? Poetic license I guess). And she even said she loved you. (I don’t even know her, but ok).

So that’s that. Don’t worry. I’d rather live in a cramped crappy apartment, than be hiding under a couch during a shoot out.  I’m funny that way.

And in other news, I went to my art friend JS’s 50th birthday last night. He rented the place where we have our art class and…well, we drew and painted him for his birthday! And no, he wasn’t nekkid. I did ask him what his intentions were the Wednesday before. JS has always been extremely kind to me, and I wanted to be prepared for the drawing of any potential naughty bits. (Just kidding JS).

 Initially he was going to wear this oddball hat that looked like a paint can with a disco ball on top of it. You know how artists are.  But we all voted that down, since I think that would have been a little too heavy for JS, who is very slight in build.

Afterwards he very kindly fed all of his blood sucking lazy ass artists friends catered lasagna, salad and a beautiful cake drizzled in caramel. Naturally I got stuck at a table with a rich girl artist who had snarked me a couple of weeks ago. There was also a yuppie couple who were bragging about how handsome their son down in NYC was and how he was a model and then starting naming off big name designers he had worked with. I love when yuppies try to say things with French accents and fail miserably.  You know like: Ralhhhhhhllf Saaayyynt Laurrhhhhhhayyyyyntt.

Of course I did leave the table briefly for a soda and when I came back everyone at the table was trying to outdo each other with that great ol’ party game “competitive nostril flaring”. The guy next to me said he used to pick up women at bars like that.

And then to prove it,  he sort of leaned towards me and did this guppy nostril flare thingie…right there in front of his wife.  I figure it must be because I look so damn fetching in my new Tina Fey glasses.  Yeah, thats it.

So, that’s been my week. I will be taking yet another train trip to see my best friend “G” on the road once again. I’ll be down in Schenectady on Thanksgiving and then Black Friday. Woo hoo! Is there anything to do down there? I guess I could flare my nostrils at unsuspecting passerbys and make them swoon. Although I really don’t want to ruin my nearly perfect “No Dates in 2008” record. That would be just wrong.

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16 Responses to “artist birthdays aren’t like others”

  1. Miss Hiss Says:

    Nostril flaring, ay? I know it seems to work for bulls (on cows, that is) but I had no idea it transferred across species. I guess brute-force machismo’s such an ethereal thing after all… Love, R xxx

  2. Miss Hiss again Says:

    Oh, I meant to add that when a bull flares his nostrils at a cow she generally indicates her receptiveness for his advances by peeing all over his nose. You didn’t do that to your Guppy Yuppie? (I presume?) x

  3. Shippie Says:

    The nostril flaring sounds fun actually….I can just see it! And your sense of safety and security far outweighs the cost of, or lack thereof, a house. I can understand why you wouldn’t want to move in. Too, it sounds like a lot of work needs to be done to even make it habitable. Bummer though, eh!

  4. artgnome Says:

    yay for more travel! I hope you can snag some money from the sale of that hood house, at least. Wishing you all good things!

  5. Captain Poolie Says:

    I am a champion nostril flarer. I can flare to great songs like…..”Jingle Bells” or the “1812 Overture.” I am usually modest about this, but sometimes you just gotta crow!

  6. freshhell Says:

    Have a good holiday. And, yeah, there’s no such thing as a free…house. That one sounds like a tear-down, frankly.

  7. crankygirl Says:

    Yeah, you don’t want to give up rental assistance in this economy. Next thing you know, you’ll owe taxes on your aunt’s house.

  8. scotvalkyrie Says:

    Why is it that mothers always come up with the most cockamamie ideas that no one else in their right minds would think? Your mother and my mother should start their own fan club.

  9. stepfordtart Says:

    Oooch! Sounds like you need to leave Monster Towers WELL alone! I too am a champeeeeen nostril flarer, but generally only for the amusement of my kids. It certainly never helped me pull a man (not that I know of, anyways!). Listening to people mangle the french language is one of my favourite things. The more stuck up they are, the funnier it is. Once had a long conversation with a very horrid lady from Alabama who was extolling the virtues of Yves St Laurent over whatever rags I was wearing at the time. Only she called the poor man YEEVES throughout the whole conversation! *tssk* s x

  10. kittiefan17 Says:

    It’s funny that you mention a “hood” in Michigan.haha. There’s this gorgeous boy at my school from Michigan, and he happens to live around the “hood” area…I just found it odd because he looks like a frikin Abercrombie model from a privileged family. So from this, i’m guessing that even pretty boys in Michigan can’t escape the ‘hood. Good choice of NOT moving over there, witty! It’s a dangerous, dangerous place! *sigh of relief*

  11. warcrygirl Says:

    I can’t flare my nostrils but I can wiggle my nose like a bunny rabbit. Not sure if that will bring the young, cute guys a-runnin’ though but it sure makes 4 year olds giggle.

  12. Seacreature Says:

    Does it mean I have a sick mind if I can totally picture that “shit hole” you described? How utterly…quaint. That house offer drives home the old saying, “If it’s too good to be true, it probably isn’t.” I also can’t help but see you and Guardcat shivering on the dusty, cob-webbie, moldy ass floor underneath the couch…you with a slingshot in hand and aimed at gangstas ankles…
    Enjoy your travel and be careful! Happy handoutdays.

  13. xat Says:

    Trust your gut on the house. It’s awful to live somewhere you don’t feel safe.

    I know. I’ve done it. Not fun.

    Sounds like the birthday party was a laugh. Flaring nostrils AND pretentious yuppie scum? And lasagna?! With cake? Score.

  14. DanjerusKurves Says:

    OK, here’s what you do . . . you pretend to move into the house … then you sue your cousin for adverse possession and then YOU sell the house! Voila! That’ll be $75 for the free legal advice, please.

  15. Shear-Madnez Says:

    Lahhhhvvvly ennnntreeee dahhhhlingggg

  16. onewetleg Says:

    I never know if you are kidding or not but I love your words

    hugs from Oregon, JJ

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