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2004-08-19 @ 12:27 a.m.
I'm the boss of my underpants, if nothing else

AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): Through a friend of a friend of a friend in the publishing business, I've caught wind of a mysterious manuscript that may soon be turned into a book. It's called I'm the Boss of My Underpants.My source was maddeningly vague about the subject matter, but it sounds like something I'd love you to get your hands on as soon as possible. In the coming weeks, you'll need to get crystal clear about who exactly is the boss of your underpants. You should also devote a lot of thought to defining the rules that will govern your underpants in the future, including the important issues of where and when and with whom you'll take them off.

You mean I get to take off my underpants with someone else in the room?

YIPPEE!!!!!!!! When? When? When? Hopefully they're not referring to when I see my lesbian doctor on Friday. I know getting nekked with a lesbian would be good for some of you. And seeing ME get nekked with a lesbian might be good for others, but I really want to be naked with someone of my choice. OK? Pretty please!

I did get naked today though. Or at least semi-naked. My mom wanted to take me out for a jaunt. I'm still feeling like shit on a shingle. Tired. Fatigued. Yeah, you've heard this all before. But she wanted to take me to the Salvation Army because they were having a big 50% off sale. Plus she has her senior discount.

Wait...wait, let me gather up the strength required to jump up and down in sheer, unadulterated excitement.

Ok, that was fun. Can I get an IV now?

I only said yes because it was around lunchtime and that only meant one thing. Free Lunch. Of course, nothing is ever truly free with my mother. I always have to choose the restaurant and that can only mean one thing....

The restaurant I will choose will either 1) Give my mother food poisoning so severe she will end up in the ER near death. 2) She will find a human hair 33 inches long wrapped around her ham sandwich. or 3) A waitress will hate my mother so much after waiting on her, that restraining orders have to be taken out in order for my mother to walk safely to her car.

So I picked out my favorite deli. This deli has been selected as the Best Deli in town by our local alternative newspaper for like the last 10 years. Its really good and if I had the money I'd be there every day. They have good pickles. But it didn't make the grade for my Mom today.

First of all, let me mention that my mother always has to order the same thing as me. It is so freakin' annoying. I'm not sure why she needs to do that, but she'll "let" me order first and then tell the waitress or sandwich artist, "I'll have what she's having", thus furthering my responsibility if something bad happens. And that, of course, happened today.

Right after we finished our twin tuna sandwiches, which of course, she complained about (mine was fine), she got the trots while at the Salvation Army.

damn, don't you just hate when that happens? Sorry, don't mean to laugh, but my secret evil plan to pick restaurants that will do incomprehensibly bad things to my mother seems to be working. Bwaaahahahaha!!!!

So I mostly left her to her own devices at the Salvation Army. She went and picked out her old lady clothes and I went into the dressing room and tried on a series of the sleaziest, tightest fitting tank tops I could find in the entire store. Not sure why. I guess its just a phase I'm going through. Tonight is my art class, and I guess I was looking for something to impress "K", my second art class potential husband person. I ended up not getting anything.

And besides, why am I looking for something sleazy for "K"? He's a nice guy. I need some straightening out here, kids. Not all guys have their tongues hanging out on the ground for women in tight tank tops, right? Am I right? And why would you want to attract one of those types anyways? I just lived with the archetypal "guy who likes women in tight shirts" (Nanny Guy) for five days. Didn't I learn anything?

So I took my power nap about mid-afternoon. I was really exhausted after my little jaunt to Salvation-Not-Land. I don't really sleep during these naps. I just lay on the couch and try to reconfigure my body into something healthier. It still hasn't worked yet.

In my waking hours, I've also been looking through all my sketchbooks to come up with some work for an upcoming art show up at the University in September. I have about 6 sketchbooks full of work that I've been doing since November, but I can't seem to make a selection. It's not that I'm overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of all my outstanding artwork...It's actually more a case of what sucks the least.

I'm mainly embarrassed because I'm up against a room full of world class artist. When they draw a nude figure you can tell who it is. When I draw it, you wonder WHAT it is. Since realizing that I can't draw very realistically, I've taken this mighty veer off into Picasso-bizarro land. I do all these weird, colorful, bold crazy things that have little to do with the delicate art of drawing the human body. I mean, I took that 5 week drawing course from our fearless leader Johnson, and learned how to draw trapezoids, but that's basically it. I still can't draw worth shit, my brain can't comprehend depth of field, so I just color like a five year old. Yay!

I realize that I may be hard on myself, because I have got repeated compliments on my work at my class. I guess its because I'm doing something totally different from everyone else, and I kind of stick out. But I still feel embarrassed, that after drawing for 10 months, I still can't draw a freakin' hand.

But on the way to my figure drawing class tonight I had more important things to tend to. A panic attack. I guess because I thought I was going to see "K", my second potential art class husband, and I know that "A" will be expecting a full 10 page report in triplicate about our potential exciting first date together on Tuesday. I got really overwhelmed. I had trouble breathing. I felt dizzy. I had a big pit of anxiety in my stomach. And as I was brushing my teeth before I left, I nearly tossed my cookies. So I popped a clonopin.

Can't have a skittery artist trying to grasp her pastels, while trying to look stunning for her future husband.

But I got there and he wasn't there. Darn. Maybe he was home having an anxiety attack too.

"Oh dear, oh dear, that foxy Witty-girl in the tight tank top is going to be there tonight...gasp, gasp, and I can't even think about facing her. I know I want to marry her, but I can't even get up the courage to stick my tortilla chip in the dip at the same time as her. What am I going to do?"

So I just enjoyed the calming effects of the clonopin and tried something new. We had a really boring model. She's a nice girl. We used her for the five week class I did, but she is very skinny (as in no curves to draw) and her poses are very ho-hum. So what I did, was pretty revolutionary for me. Especially since I can't draw and usually fudge my own drawings by employing the very forgiving nature of pastels.

I used a felt tip pen tonight. My first drawing was all pen and ink, and then my second drawing I did...

I added in a little yellow pastel color in background. Other than being a little off in the perspective, I'm not totally unhappy with it. And that's saying alot.

So I'm not sure if I will continue to use it as a regular medium. It was just kind of a an experimental fluke and I was bored, and I was on drugs, and I was feeling a little claustrophobic, because it was one of the biggest crowds we've ever had at our drawing class and people were camped out on top of each other which made me really nervous. I don't like people being close and being able to see my work.

So yeah, I'm a nut. But I'm also the Boss of my Underpants! :-)

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