Last night I hung out with one of my very best and very oldest (very oldest?) friends: Shea. Shea and I have known each other since we were 8 years old and we have a lot of history together. She knows that I had curly hair, braces, and gangly limbs all at the same time. She knows that when I was in 8th grade I had a dream that I got up in the middle of the night and went to the bathroom and ended up peeing in my bed thereby giving me a complex about using the bathroom in the middle of the night (and always, always pinching myself when I do it JUST to make sure I'm awake). She knows every single one of my ex-boyfriends (tragically). She was my co-conspirator when we broke in to the empty house next to mine. She used to make tissue flowers with me and decorate them with crayon shavings and nail polish. And she is the *only* person in this world that can make me laugh so hard my chest hurts. Every. Time. And the only reason I know this is cuz last night in the midst of my chest pain I exclaimed, rather loudly, "You are the only person that can make me laugh so hard my chest hurts!" Best friends are the coolest ever.
A few nights ago she called me up and said the Walker (art gallery) has Free Admission Thursday Nights sponsored by Target. And she was all, "Let's go!" And I was all, "Totally." So in 30-something degree weather we walked over to the brand spankin' new, spiffily redesigned gallery. Now. I live 2 blocks from the gallery and when they decided to remodel and put on a huge new addition I thought that seemed like a cool opportunity to construct a little somethin' something' Minneapolis could love-on and call its own squishy. And then I started to see this huge brushed-metal eye sore erected before my very eyes. Honestly? I don't love the design. It's a big, brushed-metal tank that looks like it constantly needs to have its construction signs re-barracaded around it. You know? It's a freagin' art gallery and that's the best they could come up with? I'm disappointed.
Digressing.
So we walked in to the art gallery and followed a bunch of people up the stairs (first mistake). And... then up some more, twisted and narrow stairs. To... a dead end (second mistake). Back around the corner to... an overpriced Wolfgang Puck restaurant full of snobby people staring at us over their wine (third mistake). Ohhhhhkay. Continuing on up the stairs to a restricted area (fourth mistake). Oops. Back down allllllll the stairs and wandering towards another long hallway. Aha! Galleries. Apparently the person who designed the building forgot to get off their acid trip before submitting the design for approval. Maybe if I had been drunk or high - or perhaps drunk *AND* high - things would have been clearer.
This is the part of the story where I could go in to excrutiating detail about all the art I saw, but man oh man. Ok some of it was very cool. Chuck Close had an exhibit of self-portraits that was really groovy. But then... then things started to get a little weird. And by weird I mean "look at this painting of a vertical black line - the artist is making the most powerful, poignant commentary about the social injustices inflicted upon women this side of the 20th century I've ever seen." Ok, has it escaped everyone's attention that IT'S A BLACK LINE! I might be exaggerating a little, but maybe I'm in the wrong profession cuz I didn't get 'art' last night. Here was a photographer, writer, and designer walking around an art gallery with an interior designer and framer - AND WE DIDN'T GET IT! That's when our long history of best frienditure paid off. We looked at each other, did the eybrow lift, and booked through the remainder of the exhibits.
And proceeded to an Indian place around the corner from where I live (which became the scene of the 'I laughed so hard my chest hurt' incident). Never been there. Always wanted to go. Seemed like a good idea at the time. At least in the food arena we weren't let down. Our waiter was a trip and totally gave us free stuff which didn't hurt either. But listening to Shea tell the story about how she had an appointment with a new gynecologist a few weeks ago, going to her appointment, and then being confronted with a really gorgeous, good-looking, youngish, dark haired doctor was golden. I think she actually turned a little red as she re-told the story.
Sorry Shea, but that's going in the book if I can manage it.
Comments
That's happened to me. It was HORRIBLE. You can't just spread 'em for a hot guy. I'm sorry - but you can't. At least I can't!!! Ok. That was too much information. I'll be stopping now.
My gyno is a seriously hottie...I'll leave it at that.