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2006-03-02 @ 6:35 p.m.
queen of the mardi gras, but only because I kicked the other queens out.


Poor “A”. He wasn’t feeling well this morning. He had new glasses. And for some inexplicable reason, as soon as I walked into his office and saw his new glasses my first response was.....

IT’S AUSTIN POWERS!!!!!!



That might not have been exactly the response he was expecting...or wanting since all middle aged men want to be considered wildly sexy and desirable at all times, but I just couldn’t help it. They did look like Austin Power glasses and “A”, minus the purple velvet suit and bad teeth, looks faintly like Austin anyways. But only in a totally shagadelic and dignified way. So I did write him an e-mail afterwards and apologized. I know how it feels when somebody makes fun of your new glasses. My former client/stalker girl used to sing “As the beat goes on...” everytime she’d see me in my beret and round John Lennon “hippy” glasses. I guess choosing to make a fashion statement or being a rough hewn individualist is kind of a double edged sword, isn’t it?

Its been a busy couple of days...finally. I haven’t been working much lately. You know, with my skulking around the edge of my building, trying to avoid people who are angry at me. I am in the midst of possibly making a career change. Heh. Career change. I don’t actually have a career. I just have a job that pays me minimally, to do a job that virtually anyone with a pulse could do. I take people to lunch and lead support groups. So as you can see, those college courses in journalism were so uber helpful in my current work situation.

“Now what do you want for lunch?”

I did apply for a new job today. Its not a “career” job. Its just something that would also probably pay me about $8/hr. but at least I wouldn’t be getting stalked by crazy people or having to use my car, which is down to its very last tire thread. I applied at a place that has been voted as one of the best places to work in America by Forbes Magazine. And yay! its only one mile from my new apartment. I did apply here about 10 months ago, but I’ll try again. What the hell! Lots of single yuppie guys shop there. And if they want to shop for a slightly chubby, neurotic, but incredibly cute and funny artsy girl, guess who they’ll find on aisle 9!!!

ME!!!!



And I think if they’re on the ball, I may be available for a very reasonable price, especially if they’re cute and voted Democrat in the last presidential election.

“A” did ask me if anything good had happened to me in the last two weeks, since I did have a slew of bad stuff (not on purpose “A”. I promise), so I immediately gave him the low down on my latest art escapades. Last night for instance was Mardi Gras night at my nekkid drawing class, where we got to listen to some really great New Orlean’s style jazz, like the song about the dog who kept greeting this “other man” who came to this married couple’s house, like he knew him and then the husband finally realizes why....Wifey is stepping out on him and the dog knows the boyfriend because he’s a regular visitor. Heh! Our Fearless Art Leader also had some other Mardi Gras paraphernalia like beads and masks and our model posed with a large purple boa. The feather kind. Not the kind that eats mice. She also brought a lot of her own Mardi Gras stuff, since she had been to New Orleans a year and a half ago for her honeymoon and remembers it with great fondness. Dont’cha kinda get the been there-done that French Quarters look from her?



I also brought my own Mardi Gras accessory. It was my lovely and incredibly sparkly tiara from the also lovely and incredibly sparkly HissandTell to somehow subtly announced that I was, in fact, the QUEEN OF THIS MARDI GRAS. Yeah, alert the media. But first let me kick all the other queens out of the way, so I don't have to compete with guys who have better legs than me.

So at the break our Fearless Art Leader took our yearly “class picture” with all the artists in their various masks and feathery things and (cough) tiaras and that will be in our next newsletter.

I also started back to my acrylic painting class once again on Monday night. The class is a little anemic in attendance. We got some of the old people back...Death Mother, who once again anxiously told me where her daughter was buried when I inadevertantly told her I do photography in cemeteries.

Note to self: Don’t tell people about your weird hobbies, especially if they’re weird too.

And then there’s the hillbilly nanny, whose voice is so shrill and frightening that it would make mice run backwards in mazes. And then me. And that’s it....except for our cute little art boy teacher. He seemed happy to see me again. He knows I don’t need much guidance and he can talk art smack with me and I’ll get what he’s saying no matter how obscure.

As usual, I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to paint, so just before I went to the YMCA I went over to the library and got an art book of Georgia O’Keefe’s work. Ha! I’m so ridiculous...thinking I can paint anything remotely as beautiful as Georgia O’Keefe’s work. Ha! And then when the hillbilly nanny lady saw the artbook she went all wonky and started singing her praises and whipped out her planner which had Georgia O’Keefe’s work on it, as in, ok! I get it! She’s your favorite artist. Just don’t watch me desecrate your favorite artist’s work, mmm’kay?

She finally walked away, but as I was flipping through the book, the young art boy teacher came walking over and started looking over my shoulder and suddenly said, “You do know that her work has certain sexual connotations, right?”

To myself. Oh realllllllly? Ya mean, Georgia All-My-Flowers-Look-Like-Vaginas O’Keefe? You’re kidding. Oh dear!!!!

I didn’t say anything, of course. He’s young. He probably thought I didn’t realize that, since I’m so elderly and I haven’t looked at my vagina with a mirror in quite a while. Whoops! Was that TMI?

Anyhoo, I did finally select an O’Keefe painting that didn’t involve vaginas flowers, but actually had a large tree against a night sky. At first I was trying to recreate what she did, but again I failed miserably. I do that every week...when I’m trying to paint like some great Master Artist (like what the feck were you thinking, witty?) And then usually about 8 p.m. (the class starts at 7 p.m. and ends at 9 p.m.), I will toss out any misconceptions that I have that I can actually paint like a real artist and then go do my own damn thing. And for some reason, now that the boy art teacher is starting to know the drill, he gets really excited when I let out that loud sigh of defeat and say something along the lines of, “This totally sucks. I have to do something to save this piece of shit.” And then take off in my own direction. Because that’s pretty much what I did with my painting on Monday night. I went from the pretty, ethereal O’Keefian night tree, to something that looks more like an illustration in perhaps a kid’s book. And fortunately, I’m not totally unhappy with it. And for me, that’s saying alot.





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