I'll admit it: I have no ability to appreciate art. Deep down, I suspect there's a genetic marker on the Y Chromosome that inhibits such an understanding. But I'd always figured women, lacking said chromosome, all possessed the capacity to truly appreciate art. Until I walked into her house.
The first thing I saw on the wall is a drawing of a rhino with an enormous horn and a naked woman wrapped around it. Even I could grasp the overt symbolism of that one. There's no way a woman purchased this. Did her ex have a greasy rattail? Did he sport dirty wifebeaters and gnarly cutoff jean shorts? 'Cause a dude like that would totally have this image painted on the hood of his '73 Firebird.
Oh, but here's one I remember: "Guernica" by Picasso. Nothing really says "lose the pants, big boy" like a Cubist depiction of the firebombing of a Spanish town. Seriously, that thing is freaking me out.
I hoped the bedroom would be free of anything too boner-killing, and I wasn't paying too much attention as we staggered in there. Sadly, I looked up right as things were getting interesting and saw the framed portraits of her parents staring down at me from the wall. I felt like I'm fourteen again and my first girlfriend's parents walked in and caught us fooling around. Game over. An entire bottle of Cialis couldn't get this party going again.
I offered to take her down to the annual craft fair on Corey Ave. in a few weeks to upgrade her artwork. Between the two of us, surely we could find something decent. Maybe we could score a couple of generic flower paintings that every house seems to have. Heck, I'd even be okay with vintage posters. And I *will* convince her to move the portraits of her parents; they're just too creepy.
September 23, 2010
From our homie, Zack, who is unmoved by her artwork.
Let the record show that I have the worst artwork in my bedroom ever. Apparently, grown men DON'T like posters of Michael J. Fox circa Teen Wolf. I've honestly repulsed men with it. One dude I brought back to my lair looked around my room in abject horror. I still josh him about it. (Remember when you hated the artwork in my bedroom? Oh, yes. It's burned in my retina.) You think hooking up with her parents pictures looking at you is hard? Try hooking up with a huge poster of an '80s heartthrob staring at you like you're a preteen superfan. That's probably just as creepy! Haha.