We had abit of an opening party last night with the famous Denise Simon. Wine, cheese, board games, tarot readings; all the important ingredients necessary for an art show opening were present. Well, okay, just the Cranky Yellow brand of art shows. We do things a little differently here, as some of you may have noticed. Ya see, we aren’t frumpity bumpities, we don’t try to even seem professional; the Cranky Crew is a laid back bunch, a crack team of loud-mouths, psychos, social rejects, and hyperactive nit-wits. We’re damn proud of it too; so if any of you indie-artists are interested in having a show here let this be a warning to you. The following isn’t one of my usual blogs, full of all of those annoying things called “words” and “sentences”. I took about ten million pictures at the show, a handful of which weren’t blurry, and have constructed for your pleasure a picture-with-caption adventure:
Denise as she sees Cranky Yellow HQ for the very first time; second thoughts perhaps?
The guy on the left started out pretty confident but that didn’t last long.
I don’t know why the blue-shirted lady was whispering to Denise’s neck,
but I am sure the secret will be kept.
I have never seen anyone paint so intricately with so small a brush on
a sandwich board.
Dinah decided that she was more important than a game of Apples to
Apples, she was right of course. We ended up letting her guard the cards for
the duration of the game. She attacked anyone that tried to take a card
back after they laid it down.
Britton, the most colorful girl in the room, tried desperately to get people
to engage in silliness of various sorts. Our artist and her friends went along
with it spiritedly. I am afraid, however, the grumpiest libertarian wasn’t
having it (second to the far right).
You can’t see it in this picture but Dinah had one too many glasses of
wine and started telling really bad dead baby jokes.
At this point even the camera was a little drunk.
I’ve never seen a guy so embarrassed by someone turning the air
conditioning on.
The girl in the foreground is perhaps one of the sweetest people I have
ever met. Whenever she talks it’s like rays of candy-butter are flying
out of her mouth.
A trans-dimensional being named “Alex-22″ popped into existence for
the night. I think he was telling them a story of how washing-machines
in his plane of existence are execution devices.
This is the national dance of Neo-tri-merica. The
trans-dimensionals were very kind in sharing their
alchoholic culture with us (in their primary universe
they never had prohibition, they also have an extra
knee-cap for every third person born).
A local nun-hippy ended up attending the party. She
talked about nothing but Jesus and kaleidoscopes.
Not even free food can please the grumpiest libertarian.
Five seconds before the picture was taken: “I look
really bad, I feel so embarrassed”.
