The Dialogue of Two Mature Professional Artists

The following conversation between Me and B encapsulates the ups and downs of being a mature, professional artist and samples an average day's exciting events. The actual paintings are to be in a show about body image and sexualization/desexualization, to give you some background.

B, 7:56am: I have to tell you that I think I caught your preggy disease. I am tearing up because I saw that the John Butler Trio is breaking up. Read it on the facebook. Legit reason to cry, right? This is every day for the last 4 days. No period in sight. DISEASE

Me, 8:46am: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Hormones are fun.

B, 1:18pm: I just joyously mopped my studio and now I am eating everything I can find. Mmmmm chips.

Me. 1:25pm: I wish I had the motivation to joyously clean anything. Come to my house with your joyous cleaning. We can eat everything together.

B, 1:49pm: I want to paint so bad right now. I paint bestest when I am a hormone.

Me, 2:24pm: You're always a hormone.

B, 2:29pm: Shut up you don't know me.

Me, 2:31pm: Juno no me.

B. 2:38pm: (Sends pic of nude self-portrait in progress)

Me, 2:47pm: That is AWESOME. I can totally tell that it's you too b/c of the knees and freaky arches in your feet. The hair is quite luxurious and sexkitteny for you though.

B, 2:49pm: Hahaha freaky knees. That's me - Ol' Freaky Knees! Yeah, added hair and boobs, too! But it has to be extremey cuz that's the point. Otherwise people would be like, "why is that dude talking on a banana phone next to a bowl of phallic vegetables?" and I would be like, "I don't know."

Me, 2:52pm: Well the boobies don't seem tooooo exaggerated. What are you doing with your non-banana-phone hand?

B, 2:53pm: Non-banana-hand = just lying there. Grab the little one, it's stronger! <--remember that movie?

Me, 2:54pm: Other hand should be idly caressing the veggies. And no, I have no idea what movie that is.

B, 2:56pm: Hahaha yesssss Scary Movie 2! Come on now. Did you end up putting the kids down? I like our whole day conversations lately, ps.

Me, 3:00pm: Yes kids are "down", except that the big one just got up to go poo, as usual, and will be working on that for a while to postpone nap. If the little one is still awake and overhears the events at hand, she will also have the sudden need to poo. I enjoy the talks as well. Asswell.

B, 3:02pm : Hahahaha asswell. Favorite.

Me, 3:03pm: So I did like 5 squats yesterday and my quads are all sore and weak. Cuz that's how in shape I am. My ass is well though. (Did you see what I did there? Totally unplanned.)

B, 3:10pm: LIES. You've been planning that line for weeks. You must have gone all the way to the floor, right? Dropped it like it was hot? Want to know something scary? Out of nowhere I did squats yesterday too!

Me, 3:13pm: HA! Squat twins. I totally did go all the way to the floor cuz I was holding onto one of those big metal posts in the basement, like a stripper. Then Tuesday really thought it was fun and wanted to copy me, so I had to stop. And no, truly, asswell was pure serendipity. My ass actually didn't get sore cuz apparently I use my butt muscles with more regularity than my thigh muscles. ERGO...my ass is well.

B, 3:15pm: How many times do you check your armpits? I check mine a lot.

Me, 3:18pm: I don't think I check my pits that often, but I do apply deodorant several times a day when I'm at home. I got set up to paint in my dining room (have all the stuff out) and am sitting here typing instead because I am the worst about procrastinating when it comes to painting. But I WILL have an underpainting to show you before the day is done.

B, 3:19pm: Yay! I'm glad you at least have your stuff out! Now get off of here and paint! I need results!

Me, 3:20pm: But this is such an excellent conversation.

B, 3:21pm: What time is the rehearsal of our betrothed friend on the 20th?

Me, 3:25pm: I don't freaking know things.

B, 3:25pm: Why don't you know things, MATRON?

Me, 3:26pm: Cuz I suck and so do you, bridesmatron. Do you know what else sucks? My painty station is right in front of the swamp cooler so I have to turn it off so I don't get blown away. But now it's hot and I hate that too.

B, 3:30pm: Can't you move the painty to the other side of the room, excusey-pants?

Me, 3:34pm: Fine, be all practical and shit. But now that the swamper is back on, it's loud and I can't hear my music and I hate that too. In other news, Dirt just saw my reference photo and told me I need to put a bra on the naked person I'm gonna paint.

B, 3:46pm: Hahahahah put a bra on mom. You ho.

Me, 4:18pm: I decided to gesso texture on my canvas so I haven't actually started painting yet. Waiting for it to dry. Dumbness.

B, 4:32pm: I hate you!

Me, 4:32pm: But I'm still wearing my painting apron. That counts, right?

B, 4:39pm: NO! Use your hair dryer.

Me, 4:52pm: Okay, Mrs. M. (hangs head)

B, 4:54pm: Damn straight. God. Nothing has happened here at work in like 2 hours. I shoulda brought my art to work on. But I'm always afraid someone will walk in and see the nakey. Or I will hurriedly flip the canvas and they will know I am up to no good.

Me, 5:37pm: Well then I'll just message you constantly. Aaaand Tuesday has hives all over her body that are seemingly painful and itchy. I hate wondering if we should go all the way into town to see a doctor. Last week Dirt was covered in spider bites that swelled to golf balls. Two of them were on his face--one on his cheek and one on his forehead--and he looked totally Quasimodo-rific. Only he was acting normal and they weren't weird colors so I put off the Dr. for a few days and finally took him and of course there was no reason for bringing him in except wasting money.

B, 5:38pm: Ew why are your kids hivey and rashy?

Me, 5:39pm: Ew why is your butt so hivey and rashy?

B, 5:41pm: Cuz I don't wash it.

Me, 5:42pm: Well maybe I don't wash them.

Me, 6:01pm: Have you checked your armpits lately? I just applied deodorant again.

Me, 6:09pm: You're no fun now that you're actually doing work at work.

B, 6:14pm: All done with work! I checked my armpits like 16 times today. This is a stinky shirt.

Me, 6:22pm: Remember that one stinky shirt that we always shared in 8th grade? The boat-necky dark brown/purple one?

B, 6:23pm: THAT YOU STILL HAVE

Me, 6:34pm: I might. Not quite sure.

B, 6:36pm: You're wearing it right now. I can smell it.

Me, 6:38pm: Heh. Actually I'm wearing an oversized bedazzled tank with a weird southwesty pattern and torn/stained cutoff sweats. Hotness to the max. *What are you wearing?* (low creeper man voice)

Me, 10:57pm: in case you wondered if i got anything accomplished today. Ta-da! Sort of an underpainting at least. (Sends pic of nude painting in progress...artsy talks of composition and negative space and foreshortening and proportion ensue.)

*NEXT DAY*

B, 1:15pm: Don't eat kale. It smells like poop.

Me, 1:17pm: Ew why would I ever? Speaking of poop, I had coffee for the first time in forever today because I got no sleep last night because Tuesday slept in bed with me and kept kicking me in the face because she was sleeping sideways so I was falling asleep standing up today and needed caffeine and it made me poop like right away. Plus forced me to use run-on sentences.

Me, 1:26pm: Now I'm eating an inch thick pancake the size of my face and will prolly be pooping all day as a result.

B, 1:26pm: Quit making me die. I am trying to work dammit.

Me, 1:27pm: No you're not. You're trying to *look like* you're doing work while you drink beer and do facebook and sniff your pits.

B, 1:28pm: I'm debating the beer. It's still morning to me though and I want coffee. And then some coffee poops. I finally started my period which is good. Now I know why I want to kill!

Me, 1:29pm: Are you less murderous once Aunt Flo is in town?

B, 1:30pm: Yep. But much wittier. I am having the worst hair day ever. It looks like I just woke up and was like, that'll do.

Me, 1:31pm: HA. I'm just perpetually irritable and retarded. Never changes. Lucky me.

B, 1:31pm: But you're pretty, so that's cool.

Me, 1:32pm: But I'm fat and never take showers or put makeup on or get dressed and all I do is yell at stuff, so less cool.

B, 1:33pm: But you're getting paid to get fat. WAY cool. I had to start dieting cuz i put on three lbs for no reason. And the meds aren't giving me the awesome skinny making diarrhea anymore. UGH. And preggs is diff than fat. So shut up your whore mouth.

Me, 1:44pm: You mean shut your whore mouth. Plus I am fat AND preggs.

B, 1:55pm: Hahaha nope. Shut up your whore mouth. Remember when I tried to text Hahahaha and I wrote 

Hannah? That still makes me laugh stupidly. Cuz that's how I am. I ruv you don't feel fat and preggs! Just preggs with a stranger's alien baby. That's all.

Me, 1:56pm: Hannah! I just put the kids down and I need to take a nap and/or a shower, and/or paint and/or vacuum and/or clean the kitchen, but I can't decide so I probably won't do anything. Except this since it's clearly the most productive.

Me, 2:02pm: I tried painting with the kids earlier today again and Tuesday dumped a bunch of yellow paint on my purple carpet. It was pretty.

B, 2:02pm: Uuhhhh suck

Me, 2:05pm: It actually came out cuz it was acrylic and I dumped a gallon of water on it right away. They always want to paint when I'm painting but then I spend every moment setting up and helping and cleaning up for them and make no progress on mine so there's no point.

Me, 2:42pm: :3 ballsface for you

B, 2:42pm: Ballsface! :o3 Does noseballsface work?

Me, 2:43pm: I know how you love ballsface.

Me, 2:49pm: Crap I started unloading the dishwasher and now I'm not sure if I actually ran it and I already put all the silverware away. Do I take it out and wash it again?

B, 2:54pm: Nope. Use them.

B, 3:12pm: I do that like every time. It is so gross. Especially oatmeal spoons.

Me, 3:15pm: Too late. In the absence of your sagely advice I grabbed a handful from every silverware section and put them back in the dishwasher, which is presently running...again? But SEE?! I'm getting things done. Painting AND kitchen...and NOW I'm gonna go clean my own self. P.S. Are you guys experiencing a resurgence in moths in addition to flies? HATE.

B, 8:47pm: You're a new woman! We don't have the moths. But the flies are from Satan. P.S. if you were wondering if my boobs are huge and magnificent today, the answer is yes.