Call Lourdes….we have a miracle!!

WTF? Now why would awittykitty ever have $100 in her hands?

1. She just knocked over a bank and has stupidly stopped for a moment to take a photo, since she is so unfamiliar with such vast sums of money.
2. Remember when her friend from California thought New York was full of crackhead gangsta ‘ho’s?  Well witty finally realized how much money she could make with her natural gansta style and charm.
3. Pass Go, and collect $100. Hey! Guess what? The pretend version of Poor People’s Monopoly you play in your car…Actually works!!
4. She just collected 1.5 gabillion aluminum cans and brought them back for a nickle a piece.
5. awittykitty sold a painting(!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Breathe, witty, breathe!! You did tell them of your no-return policy, right? Right??? 

Yes, I sold a painting this week. Its the law. One a year.  No more. No less.

My old boss from my last job had sent me an e-mail last Friday telling me that someone was interested in buying one of my paintings, that was hanging at a mental health center downtown. Why was it hanging there? I don’t really know. After my summer art show downtown, it was just randomly transferred to this place. I had gone there twice to go get it, but both times the place had been closed, which must have been karma. Why? So that the nice young woman who eventually bought it, got to see it, of course.

But did I call her once I got her phone number? Hell no. I was too scared. I would just look at her phone number  on my counter repeatedly and say like “Hi, I know you’re there!” And “Okay, you can stop looking at me now.” Why? Because of my infernal lowselfesteemcrazybrain syndrome which was setting up this whole complicated scenario. I was thinking…oh she saw my painting and thought…oh some mentally ill person probably did that so I can probably get it for only $10. And I totally can’t wait to get it for such a great deal because the person who painted it (whispers) …won’t even know the difference. (evil laughter).

Hey, I didn’t say it made any sense. Its just how my brain works. Why do you think I’ve been in therapy 80% of my life? Plus I thought…as long as I don’t call her, I will still be an artist who has somebody who wants to buy their painting. Yeah, I know, pretty lame, huh? But, it did keep me all warm and cuddly over the weekend, especially after I eventually hid the woman’s phone number in my kitchen drawer Sunday night, because looking at it made it all too real. 

On Monday I went down to the social service place I’m no longer a part of. I am allowed to attend their support groups and even though I am suffering from a really bad cold, I went to my old Empowerment group with my old homie “J”.

I told the group about my extremely ridiculous low self esteem thingie and even THEY were perplexed by it. Like WTF? Huh? I  really think I just needed Cher’s character from “Moonstruck” to whack me across the face and say, “Snap out of it!”

 So after the group, I asked “J” if he would help me find the person who was buying the painting, since *SURPRISE* they worked there!! I was nervous, but I figured if “J” was there, at least the letdown wouldn’t be so bad. 

Anyways, so after asking around a little, we finally located the young woman who wanted to buy my child painting and I told her who I was and she smiled and said she really liked my work. And then almost immediately she said the price aloud. One hundred dollars. My heart leapt. She DID know the price and was okay with it. Oh my god, can you imagine?

I did have to work really hard not to let the gremlins out, however. The “Oh, that’s all right. Its only $40.” or “Wait. I’ll come clean your car and house for that price.” No, damn it, I actually let it be.  They were getting a wittykitty original after all. A print I had always wanted to put on tee-shirts.  A painting, I was soon realizing, I hadn’t really wanted to sell because I had become emotionally attached to.  When I told “L” the Hippy Chick that last night she said the reason I felt that way was because it was good. Me: “Oh.”

So we had to figure out a few things, like how to get the painting. We called the crazy-crazy place to see if they were open and they were,  so she decided that we should just go over and get it.

It was a quick, painless transaction.  She told me she was buying it for her fiance for Christmas because they had a white cat and her boyfriend “liked kitties like a girl”. Heh! The people over at the Center were sad to see it go too. They asked me what it was called and I said “The Scream”, but they  all thought it should be “The Meow” or “The Hiss”. And then she handed me the check. I was still in a state of total denial at that point, for some reason. Will it really say $100? Or is this like some elaborate “Punk’d” episode to make witty pay for all the mean things she has said in her blog over the years? 

But it was real. And before we walked out, she asked if I had signed the painting. I said no. My mom is always bitching at me about that. I don’t sign my work. The  woman said she wanted me to sign it in case I got famous.

Oh, you kidder you!

So I signed the back of the painting and wrote something far more important next to my signature:

SOLD October 1st, 2007