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2006-07-28 @ 1:58 a.m.
going home with the nude model. well thats a new one!

If there was ever any doubt that Guardcat was my cat, it was erased this morning. Why? Because in a matter of about three minutes the following Neurotic Cat Moments happened:

(10:13 a.m.) I'm talking to my mom on the phone when I see Guardcat approaching the large scotch-taped template of the Mexican Man I used for my painting this weekend. It had fallen off the table and was laying on the floor and Guardcat was stealthily skulking the pieces of paper like they were some highly desireable catfish entree. Naturally I couldn't let the moment pass, so I stuck my toe near her tail and she jumped about 3 feet in the air and did like a 3 and a half gainer twisty thing as she was descending and then she....

(10:14 a.m.) Took off running all over my apartment at about 300 mph, up over my computer, up over the TV, up over my kitchen counter knocking art supplies helter skelter. I really don't know how many laps she did around the apartment but I do know things were falling and breaking. So I had to stop talking to my mom for a moment and yell at her, which of course had absolutely no effect whatsoever (thus cementing the reason, perhaps, why I never became a parent). So I'm standing there in the middle of Hurricane Guardcat with things seemingly hovering mid-air waiting to drop like some "Roadrunner" cartoon, when suddenly and inexplicably she stops to lick her ass. Yup. Just stopped. But of course, the old clever lick-my-ass routine was really just a clever ruse to fool the silly human person (me). Because as soon as I went back to talking to my mom, I noticed it got way too quiet and I looked around to see....

(10:15 a.m.) Guardcat in the middle of the walkway to the kitchen. She had somehow surreptitiously managed to drag out the 2 feet long taped together Mexican Man template from under the kitchen table and was now playfully rolling around on top of it, washing her fur, acting all horny, and purring the frickin' theme to "Love Story" to Juan Valdez.


So I guess, unlike me, she was able to just go out and find a Mexican Man and drag him back to her secret lair with her bare teeth and do with him what she wanted.


But! I was like a total crazy woman last night. I was out social-mac-crazy-lizing until nearly 2 a.m., in part to the corrupter of women, Charlemagne. Yeah I know "A". He's trouble, especially when his girlfriend is out of town. My Bad. Me casting my eyes downward.

It was really just a night at my art class that included (ahem) going home with the nude model. Heh. Whoops. Must have been heat exhaustion. Yeah, that's it. You would think a large room with three window air conditioners, two ceiling fans and at least 4 floor fans would be cool, but it was so damn hot and steamy last night that it almost had me wishing I was the nude model. Almost.

Fortunately the Sci Fi Guy showed up at the break and brought some really fabulous food. Way better than the usual stuff. It actually looked like he knocked over a Krispy Kreme shop on the way to the class. I mean the bear claws were about the size of yorkie terriers. He also brought his rather extensive CD collection of unusual music. I had once told him I liked "Cabaret" and had met Joel Grey in California, so whenever he co-hosts he always brings in "Wilkommen" which makes me want to do something really, real--lllllly unfortunate, like jump up and start doing a Broadway musical number in the middle of my art class. But as I told him last night, unless I somehow forget to take my medication, I probably won't be doing that anytime soon. He laughed. But our little Goth intern, who knows about my "Cabaret" obsession was giggling as I tried to restrain my crazy Broadway urges during "Wilkommen". It was hard though.

After class I was talking to "L" the Hippy Chick. She always tells me that I stole her boyfriend Joel Grey. So there was still music playing as they were packing things up. And I told her that I've never been able to dance and have never had any rhythm. And she was all "Go on. Anyone can dance!" And I was like no. And then I told her about my room mate in California who had once spent 45 minutes trying to teach me how to dance. But I had like 3 left feet, so she finally cried uncle.

So last night "L" the Hippie Chick tried again. She's 61 years old, but pretty hip. So she was standing there bumping and grinding to the dulcet tones of the B52's. And I tried to bump and grind too, but pretty much looked like Suzy the Dork having a seizure. She then said, "Well maybe you can try jumping up and down." So I did. And she did too and I think together we probably looked like the chubby girl version of DEVO.

By then Charlemagne had showed up. Instead of coming in the front door like a normal person, he had banged loudly on the back door. Naturally when anybody bangs on a door unexpectedly, I always think its like a terrorist sect coming to kidnap someone. But it was only Charlemagne. And the first thing he said to me was, "You look hot..." and I was like yeah, I kinda do in this low cut tank top. But then he added, "And sweaty", which naturally activated my infamous evil death glare. So I said, "You could have just stopped at hot you know." He then did the Frenchman's double cheek kiss thingie and as usual, that got him off the hook.

Once everything was packed up, me, Charlemagne, the nude model, the Sci Fi Guy, the host "M" and "L" the Hippie Chick all ended up out in front of the building chatting. Its sort of our weekly ritual now, especially if Charlemagne is there, since he's the king of chattery. It was still really hot and steamy out even though it was almost 11 p.m. so I think "M" the Host Guy suggested running across the street to get some beers. The Sci Fi Guy had already supplied some after hour beers upstairs. We don't normally have alcohol, and we're not supposed to in a public building, but he always tucks a few into the cooler when he hosts. So over to the corner store goes "M" and Charlemagne.

Now it may be hard to believe, but I am 48 years old and have never hung out on a corner with people drinking beers. I'm like a total beer corner drinking virgin. So when they slipped their beers into little brown bags I was like why are you doing that? I didn't realize there were laws about that sort of thing. See what exciting things I'm learning!

And then some snotty ass juvenile came over and wanted us to buy him some alcohol and we were all too wimpy to say no except for "M" who is a Dad. He brings in his daughter occasionally to class and she looks like a freakin' supermodel. And he's really good looking too. Like way. I mean, he's not anything I would be interested in because he's too utterly perfect looking, yet if Central Casting called for a Yuppie Male, mid-40's for a Passat commercial, he would be cast immediately.

But man, I felt so nervous and scrubby sublime sitting there in the dark, on a park bench, drinking beers with dudes. But our model was soon getting nervous because her partner had to go to work and she had to get home to care for their 4 year old son. So what does Charlemagne do? Him: "Hey, why don't we all come over?" It was too dark to see her face, but she did say yes, brave girl.

So we were soon all walking to our cars. I had to give Charlemagne a ride since his girlfriend was away and had the car. And it was inevidble that our conversation would turn to our favorite subject. The weather? No. Art? No. The nice people in the class? No. Witty's raging foot fetish and how much Charlemagne would like to be of service in that particular department? Why yes! Oh what a naughty boy! He keeps telling me how much he loves to please women, especially when it involves their feet. And I'm telling myself....breathe witty, breathe. He's only flirting. Plus I didn't want to lose sight of where the nude model was driving. And plus, did I mention it felt really weird to be driving to some stranger's house, who I just drew nude for three hours, at nearly midnight to drink beer? I wasn't drinking, by the way. Nope. I had a mango soda. And neither did Charlemagne. I can't imagine him lubricated with alcohol.

So I'm following these tail lights and then Mr. Perfect Yuppie Guy is behind me and we eventually pull into this pitch black driveway. We then have to walk through this pitch black backyard full of rocks and kid's toys. I'm trying not to trip over anything. Suddenly the nude model women says, "This is my partner, Peter". So I'm shaking the cold, clammy hand of some dude who I can't even see because it pitch dark. He's supposedly a scientist, but I have no idea what he looks like, because I can only see a black shape against some black bushes.

Are we accessing any of your anxiety buttons yet, witty?

So we all climbed some stairs and got to the models apartment. She apologized for the messiness. But of course, all of our houses are messy if we're not expecting a bunch of artist who just drew you nekkid for three hours to come tumbling in at midnight. Right? We had to be quiet because her son was sleeping. Of course the word "quiet" and "Charlemagne" aren't really synonymous. So we had to keep shushing him.

But for the next hour and a half we learned many things and each other's lives, for instance:
  • Being an artist is a blanket excuse for bad behavior. SCORE!!
  • A local supposedly artsy town is really a haven for rednecks and Nazis.
  • Charlemagne blurted out, "Robin Williams had witty's camera down his pants and took a picture of his penis."

    There are just some things you can't top sometimes, so around 1:15 a.m. I finally started feeling a little tired, so I said I had to work the next day. I figured the good-byes would take a while...and I think I finally got Charlemagne out to the car about 1:25 and home around 1:30. No footsies though, just a couple of chaste kisses on the cheek.

    P.S. Thanks so much for all your nice comments on my artwork. It really made my heart sing. :-)

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  • Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty