Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Dude, some lady just told me the government put NASA in her brain.

The above bit of dialogue was overheard Friday night coming from a dreadlocked gal outside of a gallery on Broad St. The aforementioned gal had just finished a conversation with a sketchy woman who shared that NASA had implanted something in her brain, most likely while she served her 60-year sentence in a Texas penitentiary.

Gosh darn it, when it comes to crazies, Richmond can run with the big cities.

Friday, Adrian and I were invited to join two friends at First Friday. Several blocks of art galleries on Broad Street stay open later in the night. There’s lots of art (good, bad, and overpriced), munchies, booze, music, and interesting characters.

Being a suburbanite, I don’t get a chance to hob-knob with the city hipsters often. I’ve decided I’m not missing anything. Dude, people, drinking Natty Lite or Pabst Blue Ribbon does not make you funky white trash. You’re still just dressed down bourgeois. Oh, on the subject of dressing… We looked like turds when we wore those outfits in 1983; you don’t look any better.

One of the galleries featured the work of a guy I went to high school with. Kicking myself now, but I didn’t speak to him. Seriously, I would have felt like such a twerp saying, “Hi, I’m sure you don’t remember me, but we went to high school together. You sat next to me in Government class and drew in my journal.” I liked his work though. Funky stuff, like I remember from school.

The evening was entertaining and fruitful as well. Above our large red sofa now hangs a rather large and gorgeous original painting. Our first piece of “for real” art. Gives me chills.

We’re so fucking cultured.

In other news, my beloved co-worker started clipping his nails at 8:30 yesterday morning. I have decided to keep track of how many times he clips his nails at his desk. Other than the fact that I find it disgusting, I think he clips his nails compulsively and more than once a week. Or he’s a werewolf and his nails grow incredibly fast.

Happy Fat Tuesday! Have a beignet, a po’boy, and a really strong drink. Run around your house draped in cheap beads.

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