Tortured Women (COMMA) and Monkeys

It's not like I don't have men in my life, you know. I have many fine men, just no men that want to do what I want to do, which is let me lay on them while I watch tv.

I'm building the perfect man. I have a pretty good sense of what he is like, and I actually have the parts for him in several friends. Tomorrow, I am having lunch with two of them. Each are wonderfully funny and smart and handsome and...

One is married and the other is gay. Sigh.

I have a habit of collecting inaccessible men, I think. Bummer. But tomorrow will be fun: we are traipsing up to the Frye Art Museum to see what I am calling the Tortured Women (COMMA) and Monkeys exhibit. The museum has a different name for it, but I think mine is more reflective of the artist's work.

My one friend (married) and I wander around to art exhibits fairly regularly. Except for the married part, and a couple other minor reservations - he's sort of the model of what I'm looking for in a man. Smart, funny and handsome. Jeez, I don't think I'm asking too much.

Both men are knowledgeable about travel and art and the world. I am knowledgeable about none of these things. But, I love looking at art, and am a willing student. And both men are well-experienced in my smart ass, uninformed, uneducated opinions, and so, we have a lovely time together. J, my married friend, and I have been planning this trip for awhile, and I was talking to D, my gay friend, about it this afternoon and invited him to join us.

I sent them an appointment for our calendars and it reads:

Tortured Women (COMMA) and Monkeys
(I wanted you to understand that no monkeys will be harmed.)

Mr. J: Mr. D has professed to me a love of both monkeys and torturing women. It has been a busy day for him, what with this confession, as well as declaring publicly in a crowded elevator that a coworker is on “work release,” not “light duty” as we had been led to believe, what with said employee feigning a limp and all.



Anyway. I can hardly beat the man away from horning in on our date – especially since he was just remarking the other day that you are a nice fellow and your new job appears to be draining your life force (I said it was just making you mean – but D’s nicer than I am). The two of you – being knowledgeable about art and travel and things besides raising too many children and researching which bug bombs are best to buy to kill spiders in your spidery new house…well, you won’t need me to have lively, intelligent conversation…but yet, there’ll I be, dragging you down.

I, being an intelligent woman in the sense of knowing how to surround myself with handsome men, am looking forward to strolling to the museum on what will undoubtedly be a beautiful sunny day, each arm hooked through one of my wonderful art beaus. You will not even realize that you are actually pulling me up that damn hill.  J: D. already carries the title of being my Sugar Daddy – please do not try to take this prestige away from him. I simply cannot allow it. You’ll have to come up with something else.


Onward – to the monkeys and crucifixes! Art!

J. has promised to keep the art discussion "down to the 10,000 foot level, or the 'artsy fartsy' level, as we like to call it." I thanked them both for their compassion and ability to dumb down the conversation for me.
 
Hmm - the point of this post was that I am looking forward to social events of the next couple days. Tonight, I am going to Artopia, a $20 all-inclusive art/food/booze/music extravaganza. So excited! Or at least I was, until I saw the venue where it is being held. Now I'm just as intimidated as hell. Uh, this does not look like a place where I will feel comfortable. I am telling myself that the event itself will not be appealing to the under 25 year old crowd. I sent the link to my girlfriend, who also said OMG. Oh well, we'll check it out. Four of us are going, so maybe there's strength (and confidence) in numbers.
 
Then Tortured Women (COMMA) and Monkeys tomorrow, followed by Horrible Bosses at The Big Picture, where I can have wine delivered to my seat during the movie. Then on Saturday, it's an all day Police Academy (probably called Community Policing Academy, but I am too lazy to search for the real name). My volunteer friend and I are doing this in lieu of the volunteer shift we had signed up for, since it's a rare opportunity and both of us have tried to make the last few sessions. Saturday night, I'm supposed to...hmmm...what were we doing? Oh - cajun music?
 
These veterans of Blues and Zydeco bands have come together to make real New Orleans music, firing up the dance tunes and bringing their own brand of voodoo. The dancers dig it, and it's a sound seldom heard around these parts. Funky Nawlin’s R&B. $12
 
This may not happen, as my friend was trying to rally a group, and only came up with me, and I don't dance, haha. But we'll see.
 
Anyway, good weekend on the agenda. Kid-free, obviously.