I'm a Fancy Art Girl

It was all very romantic: a concrete stairway flanked by pillars and evergreen trees, a serene pool of water lapping at the shore.

See how pretty?


My sidekick, Nadege, and me.


My friends who might not want to be named.

They're engaged, though. You oughta see the rock on her finger! I should steal her man so I can have that rock.

Anyway, romantic, as I was saying. We strolled up the steps toward a villa that was very reminiscent of Italian style. There we would mingle, eat free food and, ahem, most importantly, view art.

Boy, those art openings are snooty! I mean, yeah, there was a guy wearing a bowtie and a middle-aged woman shouting drunken obscenties at the people downstairs, but mostly it was just fancy people floating around with their chardonneys and "hors d'oeuvers, compliments of blah, blah, blah," all packed neatly in these barbie-sized Chinese food boxes. We even got chopsticks. And fondue. And then I led the way to do the staring-at-the-painting thing. We cocked our heads. "Hmm. Wonder what medium they used? Looks like they did some sort of screen layering here." As if I had a clue what I meant. Oh sure, there were words coming out of my mouth, but did I understand them? No. But I needed to fit in with that lady who had the black dress and sparkle necklace, so I said some stuff. I think I even stuck my nose up a little.

But then I tripped and blew my cover. Glad I'm not sensitive about my clumsiness, cuz the two ladies standing near me guffawed in a not-so-discreet manner. We shared a laugh. Who gives a care?

Moral of the story? If you're a big ole' hick like me, don't go to those things unless you're starving.