The last batch of photos from the RAW September show, coming up.

Mike S. performing with d.j. Wang manning the turntables.

Make-up make-up.

Speaking of make-up, I love how all the cheapie false eyelashes are for sale again since Halloween is coming up. Hells bells, Halloween! What on EARTH am I gonna be this year? Corinne, we need to make a trip to Red Light soon.

The Boy dug Carlos Aguilar’s art.

It’s nice taking photos of the art, because later on at my leisure I can stare at the tiny details that I overlooked at the show. I always like to take note of selling prices too. And mediums.

Corinne and I upstairs, near the tattoo artist’s work that inspired me to research epoxy.

Corinne called me yesterday and told me she had finally gone to the gym for the first time. Somehow she got saddled with a free appointment with a male personal trainer. She was suspicious, having heard my horror stories, but it turned out she loved it. Being a sadist, getting bossed around by some aggressive Alpha male was right up her alley. She even signed up for a class!

“Sucker,” I told her.

Xanax side effect: dry mouth. I forced the Boy to buy me three ginger ales that night (my wallet didn’t fit inside that tiny purse–only a M.A.C. compact and Corinne’s lipgloss).

Nice background guy, background guy. That looks like a bored parent for sure. My own parents have about 0.006% interest in the fact that their daughter is showing her paintings at art shows. Oh well!

Corinne and I gazing down…

…at the comedian onstage, who remarked that it was the “weirdest show” he’d ever been to.

Probably because no one was paying attention to his stand-up routine. He spotted a friend in the sparse crowd and screamed, “There you are, you fucking cocksucker!”

That was probably the funniest part.

The Boy upstairs. He was on his own for most of the night while Corinne and I toddled around in our heels. He said later on that he was giving me “space”. Who wants space? I NEED LOVE.

The second group of artists onstage. I spoke with all four of them; they were all nice. Hooray for female artists!

Misha Huntting paints women stuffing desserts into their mouths, a pleasing theme.

In addition to her paintings, she had pendants for sale and a massive tray of homemade cookies for nibbling on. Towards the end of the evening there were quite a few cookies left, so we helped ourselves. They were delicious.

Corinne is adorable!

These two caught my eye. They were taking their text messaging very seriously.

The Boy must have taken six or seven photos of Mohawk girl. Obsessed much?

The models were not at all excited that the fashion show was at the end of the evening. Why didn’t they move around and socialize? Or at least get up from the couch? Was the designer afraid they’d stain/rip/wrinkle the clothing? I’ll never know.

I liked the bat wing helmet. I’ve always wanted an aviator helmet.

I’ve been practicing my wink.

Corinne looks sassy. I look…relaxed. Very relaxed, compared to my pre-interview state. Thanks, Xanax! You’re still great, after all these years.

The best part of the fashion show was the electronic music they pumped loudly while the models stomped down the rickety runway. It made me bop around while I took photos.

Some of the models were plus-sized, and the designer had put them in the skimpiest outfits of all.

Corinne was horrified. “Did I used to look like that?” she whispered to me, eying cellulite bulges under hot pants. I told her no.

Ugh, those shoes.

Model line-up at the end. With smiles!

We didn’t stick around to socialize after the fashion show–just packed up my paintings and took off. I packed them up as slowly as possible, hoping that since the models were no longer blocking the view someone would approach me? Some crazed fan of glitter and fashion models, eager to buy the entire collection? Think again, Sunshine!

Overall, I’m happy I did the show for the second time, even though it was, as the excitable comedian pointed out, a little weird. Hell I’d do it again if they asked. It inspired me to pick the paints up again, and I’m currently at work on two paintings, so that’s a good thing.

Today: a root canal. Another bloody fricking root canal, to fix what the Bad Dentist from 2009 did to my teeth. Him, not me, of course. And then it’s time to call the repair shop to find out if my serger is ready, because Pettipants Revolution™ is calling!