Declaring this weekend (declared my Rumsfeld to be Code Orange) to be a news-free one, really maxed out on all events au courant and it's time to escape into rock and roll and mayhem.
Amen to mayhem.
Stepped off the Friday merry-shoot-round to blog out for a moment.
Popped into an opening for a small photo show and chatted politely with the artist who then wanted to touch my camera, Mind if I take a look? I nearly screamed and karate chopped her little head.
I said No, I am really in a hurry.
I mean, really. That's comparable to someone saying (sort of) Oh, I really like that bra you're wearing, mind if I try it on.
I mean, any boy colleague can hold a camera and v.v. but some kooky Middling City artist stranger? I think not.
To be added to list of pet peeves that includes being touched whilst eating, people eating with mouths gaping wide open in movies, pretend badasses and men in lousy shoes.
Onwards.
All my curmudgeonly love, seething forth from my irony-clad heart.