Six hours is a long time to sit naked in a wicker chair. It’s a long time to inhale oil paint and turpentine — especially when the old guy who’s auditing the class knocks over a jar of it, pauses, and says “Did I do that?” in a guttural Urkel with emphysema voice while toxic fumes fill the studio and our lungs.
Needless to say, we were all a bit punchy by the end of the night. And then someone busted out the tube wringer. Yes, I know what a tube wringer is for, but I also remember this really old game show called “The Liar’s Club,” where celebrity guests were given a strange object and they would make up stuff about its use. And much like “Match Game,” if they could turn it into something bawdy, they would. I clearly remember this one contraption that was in fact used to circumcise baby penises — and it looked a lot like the tube wringer. ANYWAY, the (other) cute redhead in the class asked what it was for, and I said something about circumcision, giggles ensued, and she squealed, “Ewwww!! I don’t want to touch it! I don’t know how many baby penises have been in that thing!”
After that, pretty much everything we said was followed by “that’s what she said,” and we were all giggling like a gaggle of schoolgirls.
And then today, with that whole Greg Oden thing (all show, no grow, bro) and the iPad (I’m waiting for the iPad with wings). I’m telling you, it’s just too much for a girl with a crude, juvenile sense of humor.
Well, it’s time for me to go get naked for another art class. I have a feeling that I’ll have that damn smirk on my face all night.
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