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2006-04-30 @ 3:16 p.m.
faster than a speeding bullet...well, sorta.

Oh my God...

...I was just walking into my apartment from the parking lot and I happened to look down and guess who looked back up? Go ahead guess!!! The Man Who Rakes Garbage in the Creek(tm), And he waved at me. Can you imagine? Do you think I should be thinking about our wedding invitations yet? A water theme I think. I’m Aquarius. He’s in the water in his black rubber waders, like all the time.

But oh!! The electricity that zapped between us. I’m actually feeling a little...I don’t know...

a little randy, baby!

Okay. I think I got it under control. Down witty. Eat your yogurt and don’t even think about running into your bedroom and having a quickie with B.O.B. (battery operated boyfriend) because that would just be wrong. Especially if you didn’t close the windows to muffle your many moans of ecstasy...yeah right, like I would really leave a nice cup of yogurt sitting here on my desk for Guardcat to purloin.

Anyhoo, I have finally got kick started into the 21st century and got myself some cable internet connections instead of that old icky dial up crap. It actually happened last week while I was under the influence of a recently applied session of aqua massage (don’t moan at the Mall during your aqua massage. That too is wrong). After the massage I was levitating slightly along the corridors of the Mall, smiling at everyone, singing “Kumbaya”, offering to come over to their houses and do a little feng shui on their sorry ass living rooms, when I happened upon a kiosk selling Cable Everything (TV, internet, telephone). We’ve been getting inundated with lots of ads recently about a special deal where you can get lightening fast cable internet service for only $6 more a month than AOL dial up with free installation for a whole year. Sure it jumps about $20/mo. in a year, but hopefully by then I’ll either be 1) incredibly rich and famous off my art or 2) in a mental institution which already has cable. So I signed my little self up.

Breathe witty. Change is good. Shhhh! Don’t tell “A” I said that, ok?

So anyways, they were scheduled to come Friday between noon and infinity. That morning, however, I did promise to go to a big garage sale at the Radio Guy’s house because they’re moving south and they’re selling out their condo. I figured it’d be a good sale for two reasons. Radio Guy might have lots of music CDs to sell (he didn’t) and his penultimate yuppie wife might be selling her extremely expensive and trendy clothes (she was). And we’re the same size. And I really, really, really, really want to be a yuppie someday and maybe attempt to fit into the Village.

Naturally my mom was late. Sale started at 8. She was supposed to be here at 9. She pulled into my driveway at 10. Yay! I think she mainly wanted to go so she could see the inside of Radio Guy’s house. She’s still a big fan of his, despite his retirement, but unfortunately right when we got there, him and his wifie were taking off and the sale was being run by another yuppie woman. So snertz, no grand tours of Casa de’Radio Guy's house, but I did have the priceless opportunity to listen to the yuppie women mispronounce the artist’s name MIRO’s name as “MARoooXXXXXXTH” with a couple of drops of spit at the end. Whee! Thanks Karma!

I actually did pretty well at the sale. In fact, I think that is the most I’ve ever bought at a single sale. I bought a salmon color sweater, a black jacket, some Air Nike sneakers, some expensive lined snow boots, a big plastic craft carrier for my paints, a big cool looking crystal windchime, and the soundtrack from the Beatles “Yellow Submarine”. Total? $20, but my mom paid for the two pairs of shoes so my take was only $12. Not bad, aye? My mom’s purchase? A trivial pursuit game. I asked her who she was going to play that with. Her: “No one”.

It was good that I saved a little money at the sale because I would soon have to make an unexpected purchase. After the sale, I dropped off 3 pieces of art at the YMCA art show and then we went and waited at my apartment for the Cable Guy.

At 12:14 I heard a knock and asked who was at the door. “Cable Guy!” and when I opened the door, he looked at me, looked back over his shoulder and said, “There’s a guy raking your creek.” I said, “Welcome to Twin Peaks Apartments” and started giggling uncontrollably.

The hook up was relatively easy, but the news wasn’t great. My computer is so old, that it barely had enough RAM to run the new super fast cable thingie. He suggested that I either go buy a new computer (?!?!?) or maybe get some RAM. I vote RAM. Show of hands?

Fortunately, my mom and I go to this used computer place over across from the Evil Empire and they’re pretty nice to poor people. On the phone we were quoted $40 but it ended up costing only about $21. How often does THAT happen? Something costing less? Woot!
So now, I’m zooming around the Internet like Lindsey Lohan on cocaine and its great. I still have to figure out a few things, but it is nice.

So, as I mentioned, I just got home from the art show at the YMCA. They only put two of my three pieces up. Why? Their explanation: Oh dear, your frame came apart. We couldn’t hang it. Sorry.

Real reason? A male nipple was visible. And we all know how traumatizing that is.

I really enjoyed my young male art boy teacher. He was fun and cool and artists should be. But the other two main art teachers who teach classes there are more of the Hallmark Greeting Card School of least the one I talked to. I had taken a one day Still Life Drawing Class from her and found her very precious. She was very into dropping humongo hints about how experienced she was and how very, very many art shows she had had and how she was on some Art Guild, which I think automatically erases any urges towards serious art. Art Guilds are for old ladies who paint barns and foggy coastlines. You’ve never seen a movie about “Ardis, Painter of cats and mice with hats”. No, you’ve got movies about “Frida” and “Pollock” and “Lust for Life” for a reason. Passion, baby!

Anyways, so I went into the art show and immediately spotted two of my paintings. They looked pretty good I guess. One was on a music stand. One was actually hung. But where was my third painting? I walked around and couldn’t find it, so I asked “Martha” about it. She furrowed her brow for a moment, and then she went, “OH! The Jimi Hendrix one!” And I’m like “Jimi Hendrix. Jimi Hendrix??”

This is who she thought Jimi Hendrix was.




Oh...THAT Jimi Hendrix! The white one.


So then they had to go looking for the artwork. It was way up on some shelves, in pieces. The four flanges that held the back on, were laying loose (one’s now gone since I got home). The glass was loose. The younger girl came over and said they had taken it apart to clean it and that the glass was scratched and that the plexiglass kept popping out the front.

Huh? There’s a lip on the frame. How could it pop out the front? And then I looked around at all the other artwork....Barns. Flowers. Trees. Fields of snow. Fall leaves. Lighthouses. And then I looked back at “Jimi”...a drunk rock star in a stupor with his nipple the YMCA....where children are walking and then went “Oh...Got it.”

So, this is a one-day-only show. I have another show starting May 5th, where nipples are welcome...and lighthouses aren’t. Except if....oh never mind. I guess I’m still thinking about The Man Who Rakes Garbage in the Creek (tm). :-)

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty