saturday.
arthipstory
makin' art real talk
Monthly Archives: March 2016
dance dance dance
This is actually less of a scene, and more a progression of my night after a long-winded happy hour.
Starting from the left:
1. I always appear super shy and generally leaning into a bar corner,
2. Yawn out of absolute boredom,
3. Choose to take some awkward dance moves out on the floor, and
4. Sit in confusion about where my wallet is. (It’s on the counter, next to the empty pint of Phish Food and gum wrappers from the back of my Uber.)
gleaners
Jean-Francois Millet’s Gleaners shows three women picking up stray pieces of wheat post-harvest. Ugh, gosh, I can’t even imagine working that hard. You could promise me a million dollars at the end of the day, and I’d be like, “Uh, sure, but this manicure though!”
5pm
I hear you, 18th-century actress Elizabeth Farren. Grab that stole and let’s hustle out of the office early before anyone sees us. That glass of wine ain’t gonna pour itself.
burgers
Fine, Claes Oldenburg’s burgers may look disgusting, but you get the idea. I’ll have four, please; and yes, I’m by myself.
customer service
That’ll be the last time anyone puts Judith on hold for an hour to ask a billing question.
wow
WOW.
DOUBLE WOW.
REALLY, PRISCILLA?! THAT’S SENSATIONAL.
Girl, here are some more revelations for your mind to explode about:
– The Titanic? It sank.
– Stoplights have three colors: red, yellow, and green
– Squares have four sides
– I’m hungry.
Great. Huffington Post, let me know when you need me to be hired. See, unlike Priscilla here, I know to capitalize “Vincent” and not “van.”
no, not thurz
There aren’t enough books of prayer or high-collared, brocade-patterned dresses in the UNIVERSE to comfort me when I find out it’s only Thursday.
oh, bart!
Bartolomeo Sirigatti was painted holding a letter that says something about how the artist is almost finished with the work, and that he likes it very much. Good grief, Bart. Actually, good grief to the stupid artist that has to high five himself IN HIS OWN PAINTING.
Though, this reminds me of sending a screenshot of a flirty conversation I had with a boy I like to the boy I like when I meant to send it to my best friend for confirmation/advice. Oops, but well done regardless.
Look at how hopeful this poor man’s Jennifer Lawrence looks at this dinner party. Too bad she’s by her goddamn self, and she only has one bottle of wine. Amateur.
arthipstory 