Finished grad school.
Finished book about Tarzan-like prostylitizer and his amphibian whore.
Finished the "Don Juan" in one day (the "Don Juan" is a taco that resembles a giant head in both deliciousness and girth).
Finished caring about my love handles, impending aneurysm and overall health (one cannot worry when one doesn't have health insurance).
Finished receiving rejection letters from a plethora of institutions *see defeatist post below. Whitney Museum: I'm totally going to jump you in some dark alley, you dickie-wearing nerd haven.
Finished pretending to wear pants, it's time for my creative terry-cloth robe ensembles!
Finished complaining about possible jobs, have applied to a local prison as s coy yet flirtatious songbird slash warden. *See Queen Latifah in "Chicago" for more info about my potential position.
Finished writing sentences that begin with finished. Too much, Ali, tis' too much.
Sidenote: Meeting with the people from the Contemporary Arts Museum in Houston today. I have a feeling there will be a lot of misplaced laughter (on my part) and maybe some inappropriate references to sex (on their part, of course). It's always a crap-shoot with me and studio visits, sometimes I get paralyzing performance anxiety (see stilted speech by Barbara Bush to loved ones of deceased veterans ), while at other times I am (immodest though this may sound) completely irreverent and charming. To paraphrase (with some awesome wordplay!) sometimes I am "Dr. Jekyll" and sometimes I am "Mr. Hide In My Studio and Cry."
Wish me luck adoring and apathetic public!