This weekend, I attended a hooker reception. I did so because I am a hooker, a couple of my pieces are in the show, and I coordinated it for my company. That’s the benefit of being a coordinator of the show – you can occasionally say, “HEY, I’m an artist! I think I’ll show my own stuff!”
The night before the show was being hung (she said ‘hung’), I was in a panic because I needed a frame for my piece. One of the massive chain framing stores looked at it two weeks earlier and said, “That will be $200 and you can pick it up in January.” I even asked them if I bought a frame that is too large for the piece, if they could use their little saw and cut the pieces down to the right size and angle I will pay them per cut and assemble it myself. No can do, madre. So I bought the overly huge frame and went to the obvious Plan B.
Find a teenager with a miter saw.
Fortunately for moi, Current Boyfriend of Oldest Daughter has a miter saw. And a small belt sander. And a machine that staples the corners of frames together, No Shit. And a lathe, which is not necessary for this project but good for future reference. And he is covered under his parents’ insurance. I think we have a Bingo.
I brought the oversized Monster Frame to his house, along with a pre-apology bottle of wine for Current Boyfriend Mom, and Current Boyfriend and his dad carried my things away to the garage. When they returned, they had a framed piece. We won’t speak of the amount of masking tape on the back, but it is a legitimately framed piece. I heart him.
That’s right, Bitches. I’m a hooker.
After hooker reception, where I only had ONE small plastic $6 cup of chardonnay, we drove to Amazing Cook Friend’s house for some wine and food. I swear, this woman is such a good cook that if I saw open Ken-L-Ration cans on her counter, I would eat whatever she made with it without question. She also happens to have a very high-powered job, making her Amazing Career Friend as well, so while I love her it honestly pisses me off a little bit when I’m eating something delicious, like Asian Chicken Lettuce wraps, and I’m being haunted by the ghost of frozen pizzas past.
I barely got a pic of this before all of the teenagers present finished it. Her husband kindly pointed out when I had visited this pan for the FIFTH TIME. Back off, asshole, I just left a Hooker Reception with $6 of bad wine in plastic shot glasses, I’ve earned this! I’m seriously salivating just looking at this picture.
The next day, my Friend with Cervical Cancer visited. She is also Tall Blonde Artistic Friend with more talent in her little pinky fingernail than most of humanity, but for the moment she is my Friend With Cervical Cancer. And she’s going to be okay. But sometimes “cancer” can just be a word, or you can think “Oh, it’s too bad you know someone with cancer.” But when there’s a face on it, and it’s a face you love, you just got sucker punched in the gut. By cancer. And you want to punch it back, hard.
Get your things in order, I’m about to go all philosophical on your asses.
I feel like we go through stages as we get older – the stage where your friends get married, the one when they have babies, the stage where people start to get divorced, and now the stage where friends are getting life threatening illnesses. I feel like I’m entering The Cancer Stage, as a number of friends were diagnosed with cancer this year. It’s scary shit. (If you want to donate money toward finding a cure for cancer, visit www.cancer.org, and give to the American Cancer Society.)
So to bring it all together – Eat, Drink, and be Merry. In the words of the great poet Miley Cyrus, “Life’s what you make it, so let’s make it rock.” Enjoy great food and wine with friends, or enjoy really crappy food and $6 bad chardonnay in plastic shot glasses or Sprite with friends. Laugh a lot, cry a little, and give love freely. Or watch “The Jerk” again, because damn it, it’s hilarious. But whatever you do, make sure you try to separate yourself from the stresses of daily life and take a moment to just enjoy being you, in peace. Be near what brings you joy and just soak it all in for as long as you can.
Holy shit, I’ve become Gandhi.
Happy Monday, Wifers. Go make it rock like Miley Cyrus.