artirific

Yesterday was wholly unproductive, unless you consider looking at kick ass art being productive, which I do, so in that case I was very productive. I decided to procrastinate my to do list and instead tagged along with my roommates to the Walker to take advantage of the free admission, and I'm sure glad I did. They have the Diane Arbus exhibit running now and it was quite engaging, lots of images, and because I'm a perv my favorites were the one's of the people in the nudist colony. What was way cool was there was also a Cameron Jamie exhibit in which he fashioned this "mountain". One person could climb the mountain at a time to view some more of his work, and it was all dark and creepy and uneven (like you were actually on rock) and you had to bring this red lantern with you, and the art was kinda creepy. It was creepy in a good way though, well, I thought it was great anyways, roommate Kathleen just found it creepy. Then we went for a short jaunt through the sculpture garden.

I ditched Papo tonight, I'm hoping that he didn't actually show. I found out that it was actually Tango at our established meeting place and not Salsa, a tango night that I know the ex-landlord goes to and I didn't want to run into him, but Betsy's friend was going so I asked her if she ran into Papo to tell him I couldn't make it because I'm studying, which I am once I stop procrastinating. I feel an enormous amount of guilt when I break plans, even plans made with a quirky 60-something Puerto Rican while I was moderately tipsy;

Dude, I totally could have scored last night with a couple of 20 year old dudes (no, not the cute boys from my class). I went to coworker Rachel's party which consisted of pretty much all college kids, since she is still in college it was appropriate for her, for me however, it was a bit uncomfortable since I felt rather old. I was amused by the antics though, and though I went to like one frat party in my college days, and a handful of house parties, I don't feel I really fully experienced partying in college, especially underage since I started drinking shortly before I turned 21. But it turns out, I wasn't missing a whole lot. About an hour after I arrived, we had to caravan to the Burger King across the street because there was rumor that the cops were going to show (the party was taking place in this dorm/apartment type thing, complete with RA). I mostly hung out with my newfound smoking buddies, Josh and Tony, who invited me over to chill and play guitar and foosball after the entire party got locked out of the dorm/apartment because the key got lost/locked in the dorm or something. It was a tempting proposition, but I declined. The highlight of the evening is when some random dude walking along joined us at BK and pulled huge bottle of Jack Daniels from his crotch. I pondered if he'd ever heard of a flask, but then considered that perhaps the purpose was twofold, to conceal the liquor and to give the illusion of having a more ample "package" as he strolls along. Unfortunately I didn't have the motivation to ask as I was in antisocial mode.