For those of you who have been pounding your heads on your fists, cursing god and the universe wondering WHY I still haven’t gone to any dang museums since I’ve been out to this city-just chill. I saw some shit.

On Wednesday, I went to the Brookyn Museum, which is right up the street from Sam’s house. It was rad. Everytime I go to a mueum, or read an actual book, or do ANYTHING that is not looking at cat videos on youtube, I always vow to do more of this thing. Then I never do.

Anyway, some highlights from this museum: The Vagina Plate Room which was an entire giant diningroom set with fancy, ceramic vaginally decorated plates, belonging to famous historical figues or dieties throughout time. Here is emily dickinsens lacy baloney flaps:

victorian minora
victorian minora

There was also a player piano embedded in a tree, ontop of some dirt.

At one point, while I was standing and staring at some old paintings, impressed I could see the ACTUAL BRUSH STROKES, contemplating what it might be like to live as a fancy women of Oldentimes, this dude says “Excuse me ma’am. Could you stand over here?”

My first thought was he was a guard. I’d admittedly been vering too close to the pile of quilted skateboards, in the previous room, and had already been warned by the guards. Perhaps i was unintentionally rubbing myself on the oldentimes paintings-SOMETIMES I KNOW NOT WHAT I DO.

Then, I saw that the dude had a camera. My next thought was “Oh, he wants to take my picture!”

“Right here?” I smiled, offering him my best angle.

“Yeah, right there.  I just want you out of the frame for my video.”

Then the dickweed shoots a panoramic video of the Oldtimey painting room, so he can go home and relive this magical shakey, panoramic moments with other people who don’t actually give a shit because they weren’t actually there and it would be easier to just look up Georgia O’Keefe online and not have to squint at grandpas video.

Anyway, this experience put me into a foul mood-I had many shitty internal dialogues which I won’t share. Basically, instead of just being angry at the dickweed, I pictured myself standing next to the Oldtimey painting, gurgling and muttering about brush strokes, absently scratching my bug bites,  and the old dude thinking “This would make a GREAT panoramic video for my asshole friends if this fat inbred looking chick would just MOVE OUT OF FRAME.”

I know it’s crazy. But it’s MY crazy!

The point is, after that experience, I decided  unless it’s someone’s dying wish (and I’ll require a note from their doctor) , I am NOT going to move out of their fucking photo frame if they ask. I’m going to just stand there and admire the scenery. Because it’s all I ever  want to do.

Also, for those  wondering “Did she see the statue of liberty yet???” Why yes. I did. She actually followed ME to the Brooklyn Art Museum parking lot:


After the Brooklyn Museum, I had plans to thank my travel guides for all of their guidance, generosity and good company, by making them a batch of my famous Midwestern Eye-Talian spaghetti and meatballs.

Unfortunately, heated debates during dinner led to hurt feelings and misunderstandings. Plus, my meatballs were way too spicy for my guests to fully enjoy. So, this part of the trip was definitely the low part (so far! I’ve still got 24 hours left to totally destoy everyting!)

The next day, I declared as an unofficial day of quietude, meaning, let’s not talk about last night (unless you really need to) and give the butthurt feelings  a buffer zone of hot sandwiches, and bat skeletons at the natural history museum.

Barbara Streisand, at Katz Deli.
Barbara Streisand, at Katz Deli.
totes adorbs
totes adorbs
a dick  wearing a bonnet!  (okay, okay it's a mushroom)
a dick wearing a bonnet! (okay, okay it’s a mushroom)

After the natural history museum, we layed down in Central Park for a spell. The air felt heavy, like it was gonna drop a load.

“you know what would make this trip extra special and cool?” I asked sam.  A THUNDERSTORM!”

“My apple watch says there is a 50 percent chance of that.”

“I’ll take those odds.”

We made our way back to Brooklyn. I think Sam and I were both feeling a little weary. When this happens to me, I want nothing more than to sit at a cafe and disappear into my sketchbook. Fortunately, Sam is of a similar nature, so we grabbed our art supplies and went to a bar up the street and sketched.

After about half and hour guess what? It started STORMING! like with lightning and heavy rain! Even though I bought an overpriced umbrella from a CVS, and actually had it with me, I kinda wanted to get wet. So, without any protection I barebacked the elements two blocks up the street to our restaurant. When will I ever see rain again? Should I carefully wring myself out into a discarded coffee cup, freeze it and take it back to droughty-ass Oakland?

stormy weather
stormy weather

Cheerful thoughts. It’s my last 24 hours in New York! I’m now going to fuel up on some breakfast, and try to generate a vision for what I want my last hours to look like.