2004-07-16 @ 11:43 p.m.
|Just got home from the BOGO Sale. I bet youíre all jealous. It is the BOGO Sale after all. Itís really the BOGOF Sale, and if the marketers were truly being customer friendly they might have even called it the BOGOFF Sale. Of course that might have sounded like you were telling people to Bug Off when in reality, it was really an acronym for (B)uy (O)ne (G)et (O)ne FREE down at the supermarket. And Iím all about buying one and getting one free, even if I didnít fucking need it. I am a savvy food stamp shopper after all.
Damn...Hamburger Helper with Shrek on the cover...count me in. Boxes of Kleenex...hell I cry alot...like constantly. Maybe I should buy a case for ďAĒ too , especially since Iíve probably used about 3.6 million of his kleenexes in the last 7 1/2 years. Paper plates? Definitely! I hate cleaning those god awful stinky cat food remnants off real plates. Yeah, I need 400 paper plates. That should last me for about a year since my cat only gets wet food about every 4th day. Sorry honey, Iím poor, but thereís always that 89 cent Dadís Cat Food, and I know how much you love that, and how much I love you!!
And then there was the buy one dozen eggs, get one dozen free! Man I could really use some protein. Iíve been feeling a little peeked lately. Maybe I can make some yummy omelets or add some eggs to my beloved tuna which, yippie, were also BOGO FREE!!! So I had quite a few groceries to carry in the house. I had done my own bagging since Iím such a self sufficient Aquarian. I had even lovingly placed the two dozen eggs in the plastic bag with some toilet paper. Am I not brilliant? I really think they should hire me down at the...WTF????
Well, it appears that my two dozen eggs decided to commit suicide off my kitchen counter. I had just turned my back for a moment. And suddenly I heard this sickening thud and the bag with the two dozen eggs had hurled itself off the counter (and I will not admit to any wrong doing like placing it precariously close to the edge, with one of the cartons hanging off the edge). It was actually a rather striking eggly suicide, with the lid half sprung open, and delicate white and yellow Jackson Pollock like splatters across the kitchen. I had hoped the kitty would rush over, and help ďcleanĒ up, but she merely looked at me rather bemused.
BOGO to you too, bitch.
So in an effort to fight a rather strong feeling of depression I kept as busy as I could today. I had an appointment with my case manager this morning. She is a very good listener. She made arrangements for additional funding for more art classes. She knows thatís really the only thing that makes me happy. We talked about me possibly going to a respite house this weekend if my depression gets any worse. I told her I would think about it. Iím just going to try and keep busy.
Also came across the leader of my anger management class while at the office. Felt somewhat like a bad puppy since Iíve missed the last two weeks with nary a phone call. She said I am welcome to come back. I did tell her that Iím having some major anger right now, and asked for some advice on how to deal with it. She said, basically to do what Iím already doing...keep busy. Check!
Afterwards I decided to take a walk downtown. I was going to head over to the Crazy Crazy Place. The woman who runs the respite house, also runs that place, had called me this morning at 8:20 and said if I needed to come there to give her a call. But like any good Bipolar, I am easily distracted by pretty, shiny things...namely a yearly Arts Festival which covers several blocks. I had forgotten it was running this weekend. I used to work right in the heart of that district before I went on disability. It was always a pain in the ass, because all the streets were blocked off and we could never get to our parking spaces or office, and we used to like to grumble about all those ďArtsyĒ types clogging up the streets.
Now Iím one of them, and I think I enjoyed it more this year than ever before. I really wish I had money though, because there was some really beautiful artwork on display and for sale. There was many different mediums on display including photography, painting, jewelry, ironwork, ceramics, glassware, fabric, cool hand dyed clothing (Oh, how I wanted this really pretty purple dragonfly tank top, but it was $32). They also have a certain area cordoned off where artists from the area are given a segment of sidewalk to create whatever kind of artwork they want. I think the main medium is pastels and chalk, since they want to be able to wash the artwork away, when the festival is over. They have prizes for the best artwork, best artwork by a youth, festival goers favorite. They usually have some really fabulous work. My art guru Johnson, who runs our figure drawing class, will be doing a segment tomorrow, as is another artist who does these really fantabulous sci-fi images. I donít think I will be able to go back down tomorrow, but they may have pictures of them in our newsletter.
Also today, as usual, I was walking around, face down looking at stuff, and I hear this chipper, ďHello Witty!Ē And if it wasnít good old Jim, my first Potential Art Class Husband, who I thought was gay, but found out last weekend has a wife, but who I still think might secretly listens to Liza records. That guy is everywhere. I have now bumped into him three times in three weeks. And we live in a fairly big town. Itís so freakiní weird. I wonder if he thinks its weird too? And Iím always so startled when he says my name, because Iím under the assumption that I am invisible and can only be seen by certain people with special goggles.
So, anyways, there was Jim, once again, wearing shall we say a very Gay green hat with a froofy chin strap. Maybe it just looks gay on him, because Iíve convinced myself that heís gay. Poor Jim, he probably watches NASCAR and rips the tops off beer cans with his teeth, because heís so fuckiní butch...I donít know. I guess now, that I havenít live in San Francisco for over a decade, my gay-dar is hopelessly rusted, and I have to just give up guessing peopleís sexuality, unless theyíre like stripping in front of me....arghhh! I give up. Can you just hand me a card saying ďGayĒ or ďStraightĒ and then I wonít be confused anymore.
Anyhoo, we chatted for a couple of minutes. He asked me about my E-Bay adventures. He also said he really liked the card I made for Johnson this week. It was Johnsonís 50th birthday and we had a big party for him during our class Wednesday night. It was a lot of fun, and he had put up an art show of his most excellent work around our studio.
I had drawn him this cartoon with five panels entitled: Johnsonís Five Week Art Class. In four of the panels I drew four of the most pathetic stick figures youíd ever want to see. At the bottom of each panel I wrote dialogue: Me: ďI suckĒ. And then in the fifth panel I pasted in this fabulous nude figure I had cut out of this old art book I had bought at a garage sale. And at the bottom of the last panel I wrote: Me: ďJohnson! Iím an artist Iím an artist! What a great teacher you are!!!Ē
Well, when I handed it to him Wednesday night and he read it, he just busted out laughing and really liked it. His friend Jeff, who was photographing all the party goings on, shot a couple pictures of us together, so maybe itíll be in the newsletter next month. Jim also thought it was really funny and commented on it to me. I am the wittykitty!
Our class on that night was probably the most crowded its been in a while. Of course there was a huge birthday cake for Johnson and his show. And we had the oldest model weíve had yet. She was 65, if a day. Pretty cool old chick though. Humongous breasts. Probably a looker in her day. She said she had just gotten all her hair cut off, so she brought a bunch of colorful hats and headgear. Velvet tams with flowers. Purple turbans with coins on them. Very Bohemian. She also wore lots of necklaces and large gold slave bracelets. And during the break she just had to see how everyone was drawing her.
As usual the comment on my work was...Ēhow colorfulĒ. I always get that. Yup. I just love using all the crayons in my crayon box. Thatís why I have them. And even that night, for the first time, Jim had boldly come over and said he liked my work. Gulp! I usually hide my work during the break, but I had gotten up off my little art desk and decided to use an easel for a change and suddenly there he was, giving me a compliment. Now stop that now Mr. Jim, otherwise Iím gonna have to get all Joan Crawford on you, and take away that green straw hat with the froofy chin strap.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty