2007-04-22 @ 1:42 p.m.
I think I found a cure for insomnia yesterday. Its called: Have a Life! Which I did yesterday. I called “L” the Hippy Chick around 10:30 and asked her if she wanted a ride into town to take her artwork to be put up at our art show. She sounded grumpy and said to call back. I wasn’t offended because I know her home life, so she called about an hour later and said yes. We got downtown and brought our stuff into the pub, which is just about the diviest of all dives. Its divided into two parts. The bar part and then a filthy back room with a make-shift stage and pool table. That was where our art show was. And even though everything is crumbling and crappy, we’re not allowed to make holes in the walls for nails, so our artwork has to be hung with wires from exposed pipes around the ceiling. I had brought the she-wolf picture and also my “Screaming Cat” picture. Wasn’t sure if it was too cutesy for a show full of space aliens, big boobed women and robots. Sci Fi Guy said it was great and liked it since it was based on an Edvard Munch painting.
There were a lot of people coming in and out. Guys with red plaid kilts and nails through their lips. Our little intern from our class was walking around rather gingerly. She had just had a scarification done on her back. What’s that? From what I could see its when somebody takes a sharp instrument and carves a picture into your skin, which is supposedly permanent. Her whole back still had a bloody cotton pad protecting the artwork, which was beautiful (it was something Mayan), but eek!
Anyways, the walls really started to shape up nicely during the afternoon...
blocking the emergency fire exit. Whoops.
I accidently deleted the photos of the paintings of the girls with humongous boobs. Sorry guys. They are by a local artist who is actually nationally known for his work on M@d magazine.
I finally went home after about three hours of pretending to be useful, since my legs and feet were in a lot of fibro pain and took a nap. Us elderly people need to take naps if we do anything too strenuous like supervise a guy wearing a red plaid kilt putting up paintings.
When I got ready I really didn’t know what to wear. I was going to wear my tight jeans, but I just washed them and they’ve shrunk and that’s the story I’m sticking with. It was a glorious spring day out though, so I opted for a pair of pants I’ve only wore once to our 1960 Staff Day at my other job. Orange and purple paisley with a sleeveless purple turtleneck. I thought I looked somewhat cool until I got there and realized how totally I didn’t. So I told my other little Goth kid friend from my art class that I felt like a “Soccer mom from (my town name), the way I was dressed” and she laughed and said, “Oh, you’re wicked cool, witty!” This from a girl with red and black tufts of hair and a spiked dog collar. Go me!!
I was shocked when I got downtown about 7:15 how busy it was. Of course how would I know that people actually leave their houses and have a life on Friday night. So I had to park several blocks away and walk. Suddenly I looked over and saw all these people sitting in lawn chairs in a parking lot next to their cars and I’m like WTF? And they were all facing in my direction, so I looked up and there was a massive sheet thrown over the edge of a four story parking lot. Evidently our city was having an International Film Festival. I mean its hard to believe that 6 days ago we were buried under 10 inches of snow and now people are sitting out in shorts in a parking lot waiting for a movie on the side of a parking structure to start. Yay us!
Finally got to the pub. Had hoped that “L” the Hippy Chick would be there, but she never showed. I do have a pretty significant case of social anxiety, so I just walked around pretending to look at the art, clutching my purse for about a half hour. I finally went over to a nearby area and went to an ATM machine since I only had 11 cents in my purse and got some money. By that time the movie on the building had started and I caught up with Professional Artist Guy and his girlfriend on the corner and we ended up watching this short Japanese animated film called ‘Travel Diary”. He owns an animation studio so it was fun to watch something like that with him.
Back at the pub, some more nervous pacing. The Tall Guy, who has a crush on me showed up. Oh dear. He really does have a crush on me. I wish I had some interest in him, but I just don’t. He talks very fast and nervously to me like I’m the best thing since dark chocolate. I feel bad. And then he even sat next to me, as we waited for the bands to start and the Goth Girl Intern took our picture together. I’m sure he’s probably desperately trying to get a copy of it, as we speak.
The music finally started around 9:30. The first band was a garage band of Hobbits, I think. I don’t think their combined weight equaled mine, unfortunately. They were cute though. The lead singer was Barry. Shouldn’t a rock band singer have some cool name like Snatch or Daggerhead? Because some guy behind me yelled “Barry, you’re hot!” That just isn't right.
It was really loud though. They had about ten amps about the sizes of Volkswagens scattered around the front of the stage and it was so loud my pant legs were vibrating. Whoa. Could I hear the lyrics? Nope. I never knew the name of the band until the second one came on because Barry’s mouth was too close to the mic. Being a germ-a-phobe, I just really wanted to run up to that mic with some antiseptic wipettes and clean things up.
Finally at about 10:15, the, I guess Punk Rock band came on. Wow. Scary! Lots of things were pierced. And probably even things we couldn’t see. My little Goth friend already had a crush on the tiny little male singer (what is it with small rock singers?). He too had on a kilt, with striped stockings, huge knee high KISS boots. I tried to get her picture with him, since she was in front of the crowd but I was never able to achieve it. Sorry “M”.
I finally left around 10:30. I was exhausted and I also couldn’t stand the smell of cigarette and cigar smoke any longer. I don’t smoke at all and its actually illegal to smoke in clubs here, but this was billed as a “SMOKER” event and I knew it, so I just tried to psyche myself out. But between the smokers and the fake smoke swirling off the stage (I was in the front), I think my lungs might have experienced a little Global Warming last night.
It actually felt great to get outside. And then when I got home I just dropped all my smoke filled clothing and bathed myself in about 20 spritzes of Febreeze. Unfortunately, this morning, I’m barely able to talk. Total sore throat from ingesting all that smoke, but at least I got to show my artwork to some people. Yay!
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty