I'm just a cock-eyed pessimist

We're back with a grocery bag full of hard cider after our trip to the Bumbershoot art exhibits. We ran into several people we knew, ranging from ookla and she-who-will-not-give-me-her-LJ-name (whom we were anticipating OOH OOH could it possibly be fruity_goodness???) to some neighbors to Jodi, who was dressed in a corset and fishnets and selling cupcakes. I hadn't seen her in a year and I swear when I see her on the street she pretends she doesn't know me. I started having an existential crisis about all of the friends I don't have any more (since she reminded me of one I've worked hard to stop missing) - but then she shocked me by saying hello. While I was talking to her, I caught Ellen Forney checking out her butt, which made me laugh.

The best part of the evening was having a four year old (daughter of the arts editor I work for occasionally) tell me, "Your hair is neat! You look just like my evil doll." I also participated in some virtual reality art exhibit (I put on a helmet and interacted with people whose images were videocammed to me) and drooled over Lisa Petrucci's art (sample included in this post!). We were unimpressed with the gartered and corseted members of the Vargas Girls, who reminded me of nothing so much as a tarted up Bananarama - all California looks and zero sex appeal.

We left home with some monkey art and a Sara Lanzilotta drunken squeaky elephant, sadly missing two or three rooms of photos and such that I was just too tuckered out to bother with. Now it's off to finish Clade in time for bookclub tomorrow - and make it through my cider.