Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Event Planning for Pot Heads?

I was hired to oversee an art auction. My client was not “typical”. They were a non-profit organization.

The first indication this would be, um..“different”? It took place in an “alternative” coffee shop.

“I’m okay with “alternative”...despite being conservative.

I’m complex like that.

Some of the artists didn’t show up. My team represented them at their “art stations”. I held out for the artist that sketched lovely drawings of whales...and a couple of Jesus portraits.

I respectfully placed his bio in a cracked plastic frame. There was a reason he hadn’t shown up.

He was incarcerated in the State Penitentiary.

He wasn’t the only one.

I cajoled a volunteer to rep the artist that crocheted….wait for it….lingerie. Hilariously, the cup sizes of the bra didn't match, not even close. The panties (yellow and pink yarn) were thong-style.

After minutes of misrepresenting MY artist, I joined my young volunteer and her unsellable lingerie. She was with an older gentleman (my age) I assumed was the artist.

“Interesting lingerie set,” I commented. “Those leather pouches are cute too”.

“Have you seen the other side of the pouches?” the man asked. He flipped one over, revealing a depiction of a marijuana leaf. (He’d been concealing the leaf in order to increase sales.)

“We have matching lighters, too” he smiled.

I burst out laughing. The young volunteer planner (a University of Denver student and my protege) interjected, “Charmaine, I’d like you to meet my father, Jerry”.

“Are you a professional pot-head?” I asked.

“I’m an archeologist” he corrected.“ I have a business with 20 employees. I have a Vineyard in the mountains. I'm NOT the artist.”

“Okay people.” I barked. Let’s sell some a marijuana pouches!  Bonny, please model the crocheted lingerie.  Don't look at me like that."

“This small leather pouch is perfect for a crack rock” Jerry said to a customer.

We laughed... punch drunk.  His daughter watched us, rolling her eyes affectionately.

I whispered, “The customers are going to think we’re high.”

“I know,” he giggled, “Isn’t it great?"

Monday, November 1, 2010

I married a ZOMBIE!

Some things go without saying...
Take your eyes off the knife and I'll tell you something...

I've never cared for my profile...(I have chin "issues".) And I didn't really marry a zombie.
...and I love Halloween. 

Most witches (so you know) need help.  I prefer zombies.
So I made some.

"Wanna' be a zombie kid?" I asked. 

...then poof! Zombie.

Could he be a Zombie model? "Hell yes," I cackled. When you consort with Zombies you begin using bad language.

...another zombie appeared from beneath a bloody grave.

My sister whispered, "Man oh man, weird things happen when Charmaine is here"

We stared back, blankly, and went outside to play "I'm Melting".

As darkness fell... our haunted mansion sprang to life. Fog swirled, tinted with goulish green light. Music from "Halloween" blared from a cracked window. My brother-in-law sat beside the front door..then freakishly...moved.  A little girl, dressed like a bumble bee, shrieked.

"You should NOT scare small children" my sister scolded.

"We won't do it again, " I said witchily

I advised my zombie's: "Scare the hell out of the next batch of kids."  If they're little, go for the parents.