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2005-03-07 @ 10:43 p.m.
need ideas...just come to the witty, but some cash would be nice too.

I'm a persistent little cuss it seems. Several weeks ago my mom had given me this article about a poetry and art contest which was happening locally and like any well-meaning pea-brained Aquarian artsy girl, I immediately lost it inbetween the cushions on the couch (along with my remote control, important tax papers and Jimmy Hoffa’s body). I mean the contest sounded good. Not the poetry part, since I suck at poetry. My grandmother was a published poet, but she sure didn't pass on the poetic genes. But the art part. That I can do.

Unfortunately though, that newspaper article disappeared until Sunday at 3:01 p.m. when I was feeling around in the couch for the remote and Voila! There it was! The rules for the contest which I had originally intended to put something in. I didn't have my glasses on, so I was holding the article about nine feet away from my eyes trying to read what the rules were and what the deadline was and....

FUCK! The deadline was 1 minute ago!!!!!!

Yup, there it was in black and white. The artwork was supposed to be handed in at the YMCA downtown between 1-3 p.m. and here it was 3:01:58 p.m. Fruck! I mean I had the painting and all, but I didn't have it in a frame, so I found a frame with a slightly chipped piece of glass and I shoved the canvas into that and then I had to nail a metal thingie to the back, but then the canvas was too deep for the frame and I didn't have any tape and I was running around like a maniac wondering how I could remedy this and maybe get it down to the "Y" by say, 3:06 p.m. and maybe still get it in. But no luck. All I had was some cheap Dollar Store scotch tape which wouldn't even hold a flea leg to a cardboard box.

So I called the "Y" and asked if the people taking the artwork were still there and he said no. Sheesh, and it was only about 3:04:58 p.m. I was very frustrated. But I then noticed that there was a phone number at the end of the article for people with questions about the art part, so I called it. A little girl answered. I asked if her mom was there. No. Why would she be witty? She's on the way home from the freakin' "Y". So I thanked the little girl and hung up. I then got in the car to get a few groceries and some strapping tape, so that I could strap the canvas into the frame. That seemed to work pretty well. I don't know how official that is, in terms of hanging something in an art show. At our art show, you can practically have a wad of chewing gum on the back, and they'll put it up, because we're very informal. But this show is being co-sponsored by the local newspaper. I then called the woman again about 7 p.m. and got the same little girl. Now the woman was at a theatre production. How nice. A life of art and theatre. Sounds like something I might be interested in, but I didn't leave a message, because I knew I was going to be online most of the evening and I wouldn't be able to get her call.

I then called again today, but got an answering machine, and since I don't have an answering machine, its foolish to leave a message for anyone because, well, what's the point? They can't call me. I can just see their number on my caller ID. But then finally tonight around 7, I called her and finally talked to the right person. Evidently, the newspaper had misprinted the times they would be there. Nice going newspaper. And its YOUR contest too. Anyways, she said she could still take the artwork, because the judging of it (gulp! Judging? As in I could lose and feel like a total failure? Ok witty, get over yourself. It’ll hardly be the first time you’ll ever feel like a total failure. That was only like 5 minutes ago, wasn’t it?) wasn't going to be until Wednesday morning at 9:30 a.m. So we decided that I would bring it over to her house, since it was fairly near "A"s office where I will be going in the morning. And then after some elaborate directions, like turn right, turn left, run over three dozen traffic cones, go up and down 23 streets and then you'll see a house with blue shudders, she told me she would only be in and out during the morning. Because she worked at the "Y" out in the suburbs. The Place I Go 2-3 times a Week!! As in after every appointment with "A"! How fortuitous! So I'll just be dropping it by the artroom at the "Y", before I head up to the gym tomorrow. Yay!

So now I’m just angsting about losing in an art contest I know I will lose in. Go team!

But I was semi-hot shit at work today. See, I’m good at the office, its just when you send me out into the crack neighborhoods, that I get nervous. Anyways, our department has to come up with some kind of fundraiser. Not sure why. In fact I was just sitting there wondering, is our department going under financially? Why would we have to have a fundraiser? I mean, if you have to fire the last person hired, I’ll volunteer. Honest. I’m on the verge of quitting anyways. Have at it.

But back to the fundraiser. So one of my bosses thought about doing a cookbook and had contacted a company that will put one together for you. They charge you about $5/book and then you can sell it for what you want. That seemed okay, although not a blockbuster, and not especially involving to anyone. And then the lesbian chick who I can’t stand, came up with the extremely expensive idea of our clients doing artwork (again, she’s trying to be like me with her art suggestions) and having us run off color posters and putting them around the office. The question was....where is the money being made? Nowhere.

But then that gave me a good idea. Combine the two. Do the cookbook. Have a contest where our clients submit artwork and then we select the best work and put it in the cookbook like on the tab pages and on the cover. My boss was really tickled with the idea, because we could still make the money from the cookbooks and we could involve our clients and make them feel proud about getting their work published in a book and it would be good for everyone! I also suggested that maybe we could give the artist a free cookbook as a prize for their work and she seemed okay with that.

And that, my friends, is why they pay me the big bucks (cough$8/hr.) I’m also supposed to be designing a poster for my art class this week, but I still haven’t heard from our Fearless Art Leader, so that’s on the back burner for now. If only I could get paid for more of this stuff. Because giving away all this loveliness for free (or nearly free) is really starting to get on my nerves and my purse could really use a financial infusion. My electric bill is nearly three months behind again. Arghhh!

When I got home, I got online to catch up with some d’land stuff and suddenly my gay boyfriend Craig from high school pops on. We instant message intermittently. We’ll talk alot for a week or two and then we won’t talk for like 6 months. But I had just sent him my picture from the art show and a note about the Academy Awards. We were both avid movie lovers growing up. We used to see 2-4 movies a week together. We actually went to drive-ins to SEE MOVIES. Imagine! But in the midst of our IM conversation, he said he had all this time on his cell phone and would I mind if we talked in person on the phone. And I was like, geep. I haven’t actually talked to Craig since about 1977, and I felt a little fluttery in my stomach. I’m very nervous about talking on the phone, but then I typed my phone number on screen and said I had to hang up, since was on AOL.

And then like a minute later my phone rang. It was so freakin’ weird talking to someone from almost 30 years ago. First thing he said was “You sound exactly alike!!” and I said, “I guess all the booze and cigarettes didn’t change my voice then...” Ha, ha, ha. I then had to tell him, I am probably the most clean living person on the planet and have never even tried a cigarette. We chatted for about an hour. It was really fun. He was almost exactly like he was when he was a teenager. Very chatty and funny. And very gay. Funny how I didn’t notice that when I was madly in love with him when I was 16. I guess I didn’t know what gay was then. But we talked about everything. We were talking about the kids from our high school who had made it in show business. One is an independent film director. Another is an actress. And I was right. The kid who signed my yearbook wondering where I was (because I had a crush on him, and had been stalking him relentlessly most of my senior year) is now a successful television producer. He produces “Sm@llville”. We both then sadly wondered what had happened to our show business careers. Although I did tell him I had been on the news Sunday. He was duly impressed.

He also told me about his problems with anxiety and I could definitely commiserate with him on that one, since I am the Queen of Angst. He told me he smokes pot on a regular basis and that that really helps. He also told me the first time he tried pot was on a field trip to an art museum in San Francisco and that I was there. But I guess him and another kid had wandered off into Golden Gate Park somewhere to smoke the weed. He was really startled when I told him about my varied adventures with weed in the 1970’s. People have this angelic version of me. Like that I have never done anything before....ever. And man, I’ve done some really weird things. Right, “A”?

He was especially startled when I told him who I used to smoke pot with. heh, heh. My mystery friend and I used to act out plays and tape them when we were stoned. And they were way funnier when we were in that condition. I still have the cassette tapes. And the person I did this with is now a respected, award winning inspirational speaker on the West Coast. But I only remember him curled up on the floor. clutching his sides, laughing like a hyena when we were reading “A Thousand Clowns” one night. He was so cute. My sweet Jewish boyfriend “D”.

So it was really fun catching up with Craig once again. I felt really good after I hung up the phone thinking “Gee, this is what its like to have friends. Maybe I should try to make some new ones.”

Now, there’s a smashing idea, witty!

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty