April sours bring May flowers?

April 2010 was perhaps the roughest month of my life. Ever…people! Ow! Can I get a winning lottery ticket now? Or a hug from a hunky guy wearing a Speedo. It mostly had to do with  cancer, of course. I went through 12 days of radiation which nearly burnt the lower half of my face  off. Good news….it did shrink the tumor in my chin and neck. Doesn’t mean I’m cured however, since  I will be  starting “Cancer: The Musical Part 2” with some heavy duty chemotherapy in two weeks. And it could well mean Bald witty. Can I make that look hot? Maybe. I’ve already lost almost 20 pounds this month.  I mean I’m already almost on the verge of being hot as it is.

Did I miss any school? Hell no. I’m a tough Irish chick, although  many of my co-students were shooting these semi-frightened side-ways glances at the weird chick with the bright red chin and wondering “What’s up with that?” You know how 18 years old are though.

I did try to punctuate all the doom and gloom with some occasional fun, so besides painting and drawing for school, I also participated in the  uber cool bi-yearly Goth-Dead People-Big Boobed Women’s art show. Had two paintings and a photo of me in my much more photogenic days….

I’m ready for my close up, Mr. De Melbrooks.

It was a fairly fun night, if you count the transsexual (Marny) who ran around the bar yelling and screaming and eventually ending up in the alley, face-down in her own puke. Thank goodness my friend, Sci-Fi Guy  noticed this rather Lindsey Lohanesque incident and made sure he flipped her over so she wasn’t inhaling crusty bits from her incredibly liquored up stomach.

And you think I’ve got it bad!! I actually made that  into my mantra recently.  Like I’ll see a dead possum on the middle of the road and say “See witty, it could be worse. You could be a squished possum!”  

As mentioned, I did attend school the whole month. Fortunately things are going better in that arena. My artwork isn’t necessarily the first one people look at during our class critiques anymore . But it is, indeed difficult to maintain a high level of awesomeness when you’re taking morphine to blunt the worst  pain in your life.

Squished possom. Squished possom. Squished possom.

 But like wow, have I everbeen  able to draw clouds on morphine. I felt like all I really needed was to cue up some Grace Slick music, stand on a hilltop in a halter dress with the wind blowing blowing through my hair as I watched the dancing pink rabbits do the watusi around me.

My mom has been freaking out every time I drive though. There was only one day I was driving home from her house  when suddenly I didn’t know where the hell I was. And I NEVER get lost. I’m like a human GPS instrument. As a kid, my mother would even look down at me at nearly every corner and say, “Which way?” Naturally, since I was only 5 years old, I didn’t know my left from my right, so I’d just poke my arm up and point in the apparently correct direction, since we always got home.

But yeah, that one particular day I looked through my front windshield and pretty much saw an Impressionistic version of reality and couldn’t quite place where the hell I was. It was a little unnerving. I actually think perhaps it was more the pain than the drugs.

Lets see, what else? Oh, there was “The incident” where Tall Skinny Guy totally trashed my writing ability. Can you imagine? Me? My writing ability? What? Really?

My art group is having a conference next month and I was going to write a press release for the event,you know,  since Tall Skinny Guy writes like a squirrel on Metamucil. Naturally there was a slight delay from me,  since I was dealing with a lot of junk and needed a few days to finish up my radiation treatments and do mountains of homework. He knew this. I told him both in e-mails and in person.  So what does he do a mere hour after I specifically told him this? He sends out a frantic e-mail to our board members telling them he needs someone to write a press release ASAP. Help, help!  This really ticked me off, but since I know he’s kind of a dweeb, I let it slide.

So the very next day, as promised, I finally sat down and wrote the damn press release. I used quotes from our artists. I indicated that our two day event was tied together, so yes, sign up for both classes, not just one. I did everything correct. And then I sent it to him. No response.

Then two days later I see him at the Goth art show. For some reason he has this incredibly heavy duty crush on me. I’ve never encouraged it any way, that’s for damn sure. So he plops down on the couch next to me and starts jabbering about something. A rock band was playing so I couldn’t really hear him that well. I then hear, “By the way…the press release you wrote? It would  really only appeal to little old blue haired ladies”.

WTF???  WHAT-T_T-T? I can write circles around you. I’m like Elvis the King to your cook at Denney’s. WTF??? He then added a few more offensive things like wondering aloud if it was okay to submit my homework  as my artwork for the show.   I finally just got up off the couch to go talk to “L” the Hippy chick. I didn’t tell her what he said since she’d probably go kick him in the balls.  He then later found me again  and told me he was leaving and could he walk me to my car.

In your dreams, buddy.

 So I steamed around for a couple of days and then I did the worst possible thing. I suddenly believed him. Yeah, like  maybe he’s right. Maybe it did  totally suck. And it was just about the same time I had to write an artist statement about my upcoming solo art show in May. I had the worst problem writing it. I had written another one for my last show and was trying to find it in my new computer (yes, the sale of two  paintings in April happily afforded me the ability to finally buy my own new computer. Yay! Thanks art buyer, you know who you are. 🙂

He finally wrote me a note two days later saying he was a jerk, but somehow managed to sling off yet another insult (he said my press release read like a stale newspaper article). And he then had the audacity to ask  me to write something up on our website for an event we had just had. No.fucking.way. I ignored his e-mail.

So tonight I attended a friend’s art show here in the Village. My decision to walk down there and back was possibly one of my worst ever. I now have a really bad cough right now and coughed so severely going up the hill, I almost threw up.

Anyways, Tall Skinny Guy comes  in all smiles, like there’s witty, my goddess. Oh how stunning  she looks in that red thrift store sun dress (and I did dammit!). Naturally he cornered me and started talking like crazy, something he’s usually incapable of. I guess he just started seeing a shrink (probably regarding penis envy. Just a guess though.) Unfortunately that is my favorite subject. Shrinks. I’m like the ultimate expert on shrinks, since at one point I was seeing  two of them simultaneously….you know since how in the hell could only one person  handle the 3000 feet deep swirling caldron of wittykitty angst.

So yes, I gave him a few pointers on how to handle shrinks. Like never say “You’re right. I should put an ad in Match.com”.  Stuff like that. It wasn’t until he uttered the word “sex” in some context, that I kinda recoiled in sudden horror  and walked out on the porch of the gallery to knock back a few glasses of Diet Coke with some old dude who told me that the Belgium beer tasted like codeine.

… But like Eeew! Sex. Tall Skinny Guy…. sex? does not compute, does not computer, does not compute. Eep!

Lets just say, it was just slightly more creepy than when Guardcat excitedly hauled ass over to my desk tonight with a live mouse in her mouth….the one she  dropped abruptly at my feet and it ran under the couch that I sleep on.

Bad kitty …Eep!

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11 Responses to “April sours bring May flowers?”

  1. Anna Says:

    He may be tall and skinny but the man is obviously a FOOL. I hope your moment of doubt about your writing was but a nano-second and that you were happy with your (undoubtedly fabulous) artist statement. Love love love and {{{hugs}}}

  2. freshhell Says:

    Yowza – what a month! I certainly hope May is better esp after the chemo. Don’t ever let idiots get you down (yeah, easy to say, less easy to do) about your talents.

  3. LA Says:

    Inexplicable Things Guys With Crushes Do #5- Insult and degrade the crushee’s efforts at any and everything. I’ve been on the receiving end of this many, many times and have yet to figure out WHY these guys think their snitty nastiness is going to endear them to me.

    Crusher: “You know, you’re doing that ALL WRONG! That (meal/writing piece/engine repair) is totally pathetic.” Sits back with pleased smile and expectant look like now I’m going to rip off my clothes and have my way with him instantly.

    Me: “Oh? Did you know you’re a big honking jerk?”

    Crusher: “Now, now, don’t get touchy, I think you should be grateful I care enough to point out what an incompetent boob you are. C’mere and kiss me.”

    I swear! Of all the bonehead moves in the effort to impress and woo a woman it’s astounding how many guys honestly believe insulting and belittling her actually works. Idiocy, sheer idiocy.

    Good luck with the next round of treatment, hon. You are all kiinds of brave and wonderful! ~LA

  4. stepfordtart Says:

    Oh, wittycakes! That guy is a KNOB! *tuts*. If your next load of treatment makes you lose your hair, you’ve totally got to get some astonishing wigs to wear – A huge rainbow afro or one like Uma Thurmans hair in Pulp Fiction or a giant golden Dolly Parton one. (and a supercool bandana for low-key moments).*cyber hugs* s x

  5. Bluey Says:

    Witty, I am so sorry that things have been so painful and difficult. I had no idea that they were that bad. You are my hero for keeping at your work with such diligence. You are amazing. And talented! Sigh about the dude…I try to refrain from putting “man” and “fool” in the same sentence (it has become a bit of a leitmotif for me), but there is no other word for that man! I really don’t understand why some men believe that insulting a woman will stimulate her interest. In any event, he is WRONG!

  6. goatbarnwitch Says:

    There should be some sort of cosmic rule that one should not have to deal with total asshole men while dealing with the big C… sheesh… Kudos to you for not smacking the jerk and double kudos for getting not only through the month but getting to school too. Here is to a much better May!

  7. artgnome Says:

    Men of the insecure type have an intense need to feel superior to the women they are with. Maybe throwing all that bullshit out there is his way to finding out if you will play along and play dumb for him. When he finds that you will not, he will try to soothe his pathetic ego by telling himself he will just “use you for sex” then. These types of males are legends in their own minds and have a deluded and fantastical sense of self. I have found in my experience that nailing them with a highly intelligent confrontation of their rudeness sends them sputtering away amidst a hail of misogynistic rants but nevertheless their tail between their legs. I do not tolerate or even acknowledge such ignorance in my life any more. In therapy I learned that I am responsible for how I allow people to treat me, therefore such antagonistic jerks are told off til they go away and stay away. I’m much happier for having such soul suckers out of my life, including my family!

    Many hugs and good wishes and blessings upon you, Witty, from all the right people and from none of the losers life tends to create.

  8. DanjerusKurves Says:

    Not to worry if you go bald, I had several — yes several — co-workers in my last job who were going through chemo. The ladies made a bit of a game of it to find cute scarves and head wraps and terry-cloth turbans. And they all looked quite adorable as will you if it comes to that! You are an artist and you will outshine all the hairy people! xoxo

  9. karmacat Says:

    I so admire how well you are handling this rough time, truly. Your wittykitty attitude will serve you well. *hugs*

  10. teranika Says:

    Go witty! Good luck with your chemo- I’ll be thinking about you.

    And to reiterate the sage wisdom of all of the people above me here, there is no room in life for clueless skinny boy puppies.

  11. Kungfukitten Says:

    Don’t believe a word that skinny guy says about your writing. You already know you’re a good writer. I don’t know what the hell he wanted, less informative and more threatening? Rumors that Marilyn Manson would be there signing possums? WTH? I’m glad you got another computer. Guardcat was just worried about your weight loss and wanted to teach you how to hunt for yourself, because obviously you’ve forgotten. Could this comment be any more random? Yes, it can! I’ll send you my purple wig if you want it. There’s also a kick ass wig store in town, not only do they sell pink and purple wigs but normal ones too! XOXO

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