Sunday, April 09, 2006

Went to Art Palace last night, but was so congested that I sounded like the swollen-nasal-pale complected sister of Missy Elliot (minus the bedazzling garbage bag jumpsuit and throng of gyrating little girls). Coupled with my dripping nose junk and squintiness, I was DEAD SEXY.

(Juicy sneeze and awkard sleeve swipe). I hate allergies.

I used to wipe my snot on my sleeves as a child. I always lived in fear that someone would notice that my jacket was always coated with a thin reflective veneer. Maybe they thought I wore pleather. Or maybe they thought I was an overly cautious biker. Or maybe they thought I was a superheroine that could morph into shiny plastic with a single drip. Or maybe, just maybe, my snottiness was the least pressing of my many embarassing habits.

Art Palace hosted a silent auction of art, some of it was quite nice. Especially the one I bought: a masturbating robotwoman! Fuck yes. It is beautiful. I asked myself what was more important, paying off my insurmountable collegiate debt or buying a picture of a mechanical self-pleasuring cyborg? The second, tis' the second. She's looks like Barbarella too, which makes it even sweeter.

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