Everyone's a fucking artist in this town.
Have you ever dated an artist?
They can't pay ONE FUCKING BILL on time, they have pretentious, stuck-up friends, and you have to listen to them tell you why paint splattered on a piece of canvas is worth $10,000 (when I could have done the same thing....for less...duh).
The sex is good, that's why you date them. Or, I should say, fuck them. Then, leave their starving asses.
Girls, listen to Trixie.....find yourself a good, Jewish accountant and marry him!
"Trixie, why Jewish?", you ask.
Bubbeleh, you go to his family's for Rosh Hashanah and Passover, and your family's for Christmas and Easter. Done.
You only fight over Thanksgiving.
Find someone who understands a ROTH IRA, someone who can take you to Lauderdale in the wintertime.
And the sex? Well, just TELL your accountant what to do. If he's a good accountant, then he's read plenty of tax codes, and he knows how to follow instructions.
Have sex with an artist....just don't get involved.
They're all fucked in the head. At some point, you'll be there at the theater, waiting for his lame ass to show up, it's 8:05, and he calls you, to say....
"Sorry, Babe, I can't make it. I was inspired and I had to CREATE!"
"I'm an artist." is his excuse....for everything!
You'll feel bad because "he's so intelligent", or, "if only he'll get his break!"
Don't believe the hype.
Meanwhile, you're working double shifts at the Hoe Bowl in Catskill to buy him his fucking watercolors! And he's taking you out to RED CHOPSTICK on your anniversary, because it's the only thing he can afford.
It gets tired quick.
If you want, go to ARTS WALK this weekend....I don't know what's going on, pick up a blue flyer and read it.
Walk around town, buy art from local artists.
Just don't date them.
And, go to Wunderbar on Sunday night, 5-8pm, there's a benefit for Our Brother's Keeper, it's an AIDS Charity Organization. Here's the information. Just go.