Sunday, June 25, 2006

My Mommy Told Me I Was Special.


Seriously, kids. I couldn't make this shit up if I tried (Plus, it wouldn't be as much fun.). I overheard this conversation last night when I was leaving the opening for Wild Girls at Exit Art. Comedy gold, my friends. Comedy gold.

Clearly An Important Fellow (with bluster): Excuse me. Can my driver come in? I have a driver outside.

Woman at Front Table (knocked a tad off-balance by request and bluster): Well. Yes. Of course. This is a public event. Anybody can come in.

Clearly An Important Fellow: OK. (hold for the beat) I'm from Artnet.com.

8 comments:

Mark said...

Was it a rickshaw?

AFC said...

How is it there is only one comment on this post. Baffling!

Heart As Arena said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Heart As Arena said...

Who knows. I woke up this morning with a blind desire to listen to Bob Seger. Life is a mystery, PJ. And rock 'n' roll never forgets.

kriston said...

Driver, singular? Clearly Important Fellows need more than one driver to ride in VIP fashion.

Heart As Arena said...

GP, Hello. And yeah, you're right. A real Clearly Important Fellow would have had an extra driver to watch the car while driver number 1 covered the Accompaniment Detail. I mean, what if that whole thing about the footsteps in the sand turned out to be just another pretty pastel poster?

zs said...

this story causes a sharp pain in my "points of my own sitting way up high, way up firm and high" Actually, I think just hearing of this conversation causes my points to lose some their firmness.

Heart As Arena said...

Yeah. Painful, huh? Workin' on mysteries without any clues, Z. Workin' on mysteries without any clues.