artists, strippers, manic depressives, all in all a fun evening

Oh dear, some people get so confused when they’re talking.  I’ve been going out to lunch and walks with my former co-worker “J” for quite a while now. He’s a very nice and thoughtful guy, albeit married, but you know witty. The more married they are, the more likely I am to be going out to lunch and walks with them. Anyways, he’s been a little lost lately, so I’ve been trying to be a friend to him.   Unfortunately when I invited him to Sci-Fi Guy’s bi-yearly wacky Goth art show this last Saturday, he offered to come and pick me up, and officially deemed our trek a “date”.

Not intended, I assure you.

Ya see, I had already driven down to town once earlier that day, picking up “L” the Hippy Chick, to bring our artwork to the dive bar to hang the show. That’s always kind of fun. Okay, the first eight minutes weren’t so fun. Why? Because the Sci-Fi Guy usually has a bunch of the male artists hanging the art work while “L” and I stand around cracking jokes and looking totally glamorous. But on Saturday he said, “Hey witty, here’s some wire and a ladder. You  just need to throw the wire up over the pipe near the ceiling and try not to touch the wiring…otherwise you might get electrocuted.”

Whhaattt-t-t-?

I’m not a real big fan of being 1) electrocuted and 2) being more than about….maybe….1/16″ of  an inch off the floor. But I thought, well I’ve been being really brave these last couple of weeks, having English people sleeping at my house and skulking around in Garden Hacker’s serial killer apartment for stray plants…I can most certainly climb a silly old ladder!

WRONG!

OMG! The moment I climbed to the uppermost  step and nervously tossed the 24 gauge wire over the water pipe, I suddenly realized my stomach was all knotted up, my hands were shaking and when I looked down it looked like what James Stewart saw from the church tower in “Vertigo”.

Fortunately, I still have the capacity to act like a Defenseless Female (help squeak, help)and let men take their rightful place as the Manful Men They Are Meant To Be. because there was the guy “M”, the guy who paints massive canvases of vaginas in various configurations. I mean, everytime I meet him at these shows I always wonder if he’s somehow sizing me up. Wondering if, hmmmm, I bet she would be a good one to paint…even though he is the most incredibly quiet and thoughtful person in person. Its just his paintings that are, well, pretty explicit shall we say.

Fortunately, since I’m still fairly hot from the waist up too apparently, he stepped in…quite literally and took over the  task of hanging my artwork  which included a self portrait of me as the Malcolm McDowell character in “Clockwork Orange”. This so begs to be put on sMatch.com, don’t you think?

 

“SWF, 51,  enjoys walking and bashing fucking sods in dark tunnels, watching “Dancing with the St@r“….”

Professional Artist Guy soon appeared and I helped him with what they called “The Babe Wall”.  Needless to say, there is no “politically correct” classifications in our art show. Oh how proud the nuns at St. Raphael’s would be of me now. Like when we were all talking and someone said the word “Banging” and we all burst out laughing like a bunch of 12 year old adolescent boys.  I did chat  with a few people after the Babe Wall was done including this old woman with white hair who was a friend of “L”. She was like one of those Intuitive people who shakes your hand and knows your whole life just by doing so. I gave her and “L” a ride home afterwards. I was really tired. Turns out I was coming down with my absolute favorite illness. Sinusitis.

I don’t know if it was the massive canvases of vaginas or the huge painting of a naked Dick Cheney and Elvis with a halo made of pizza peeing on his head from the show…

 ….but when I got home I was so horny. Me horny? I know, I haven’t been horny in like 27 dog years. But I’m sure if you go back, you might find an entry or 277 of me having a date with B.O.B. (battery operated boyfriend) a few years ago. But my goodness, I got home and even though I was getting sick, I couldn’t get my clothes off fast enough. Poor Guardcat had to hide her eyes. I didn’t even bother to close the windows. Its Spring, people!!!!!!!!!!!! Even Old People get frisky!!!!!

I did finally manage to pull myself from the boudoir long enough to cook a brief dinner before “J” came to pick me up. Since our show are all about sex, monsters from outer space and general debauchery, I decided to wear a slightly naughty shirt my sister had sent me. You know the one I had vowed to never wear because it showed my cleavage. Yes. I do have cleavage…apparently slightly more than I thought. Because when I went out front to wait for “J” to pick me up, my neighbor was throwing bread crusts off her porch for the birds and yelled down, “I hope I don’t get any in your cleavage.” WTF? Ouch!  Passive aggressiveness, be thy Mistress, sistah!

Anyways, “J” finally pulled up and yes, it did feel like a date. More than any of my sMatch.com dates have felt in the last year. My bad, I know. I did let him wander around the event by himself most of the night though and rather strangely a woman he’s told me about in recent conversations, did appear rather abruptly mid-evening, making me think, that was pre-arranged. I asked him later and he said no. But I think different.

Men! Can’t hit them in the head with Buicks, can’t send them to Dick Cheney’s house for a little, well, you get the picture.

The art show was its usual naughty self. It was a smoking event which was hard on my virgin lungs. I managed to hold out until the first act which was a burlesque show with girls gyrating in bejeweled evening gowns, feather boas and then less and less clothing, ending with two girls exploring each other with a riding crop. Hiss, you would have loved that one. It was during that, that I was standing at the edge of the stage, that the Intuitive Woman I had met earlier came walking towards me. It was loud and dark and she literally fell right into my arms with her lips slowly sliding across my face.  eeep! She whispered, “I’m three sheets to the wind, honey”. So I just picked her up and sent her towards the bathroom where all the strippers were congregating. Maybe she could get lucky with one of them.

Really the strangest thing that happened this last week was at my drawing class. We have this certain male model who is also an artist. He started out as an artist with our group, but then one night modeled and has been doing both since. And lets just say he also has an ego the size of Donald Trump times 47 trillion. Sure sweetie, ITS kinda big, but not enough so that you can talk to girls who are still in high school during the break. (A no-no in our rules of models fraternizing with artists, as in “Hi! I’m blah, blah. Would you like to get kissed by a naked man”).

Anyways, so we’ll called him “Buddy-Boy” gets up on the modeling stage with his robe. Usually they just drop the robe and we start drawing. But no….Buddy Boy had a rather earth shattering announcement for all of us lonely, shuttered-up artists who might not obviously aren’t  “getting any”. He stood there rather boyishly, yet rather proudly and asked for forgiveness in advance. It seems his (cough) lower regions “were going to be rather reddish tonight”. It was a dermatological condition, and YES, DEAR GOD (okay, I just put that part in, so its not a direct quote), the condition was being dealt with by his dermatologist. None of the artists asked what it was naturally….BECAUSE WE REALLY DIDN’T FUCKING CARE. But Buddy Boy went on, grinning rather sheepishly and said, “I’ve been having a helluva lot of sex the last 7-10 days, so the constant friction has made it a little red. I didn’t want to alarm anyone.”

God….I think we just located The Very Definition of TMI.

But since he did already have our attention, now, like we were just seconds away from seeing some massive blood red beet shaped penis, about the freakin’ size of Alaska protruding from his hip or something, the tension in the room was palpable. So he dropped him robe and yes, his wee-wee was slightly pinkish on one side. OMG, call CNN! Call “Dateline”!!! Call Geraldo Rivera!!!!!! This is like a bigger story than when Lindsey Lohen walked on…on… a sidewalk yesterday!

Incidentally, this guy used to date Married Guy’s wifie in high school. ‘Nuf said!