Exhibit A hole Poodlephobe Rant and how to say F you.

[flophousepoodle]

So last night was the closing reception/gala/auction extraordinaire at the dog art exhibit.
I wore the big name tag and my sensible suicide shoes.
I was chatting with a local legendary lady big fish when this super soap opera hair wasp man came up to speak with her.
He said
"I'm so and so and I work for 'Financial Giant"
to which she replied
"Oh! My son in law's with 'Other Financial Giant'. That's just greeaaaat. This is the artist who painted all these waaaaaaaaahnderful paintings"
And so she passed him off to me.

Saturday Night Live has a skit called "Two A holes". I met the real life equivalent.

He spoke 1000 miles an hour, "Oh good. I want you to show me which painting of yours is your favorite. C'mon, c'mon - which is your favorite. This is my wife. Honey - what's your favorite? That one, Good. This is my favorite. Hey you, what's your favorite. Now how about you? Tell us now. Honey, babe, she's going to tell us her favorite."

Each time I went to answer the question he would interrupt with more pretend questions.

Finally I got him to focus for a half second on a piece. The painting is of a grooming parlor. A groomer is working on a standard poodle.

He cuts me off mid sentence to say "Problem is, I don't like that kind of dog."

- Poodles...

So at this point I imagine things; Like, this Mr.Baron Von Trapp tapping his toe in rest stop bathrooms on his wedding anniversary and wearing nipple clamps to church.
This daydreaming pleases me and helps me get through his need to show me an image on his blackberry of his Golden Retriever wearing sunglasses.
" You ever painted a dog like this, huh? In sunglasses?..Nah I'm just joking. Ha ha"

So finally I get his attention by telling him that I live with poodles and they are wonderful dogs but this painting is not about dogs.

"What's it about then?"

"It's about work. It's about social class. It's about tough women from rough backgrounds catering to pampered pets."

If I was still 19 I would have added

"This woman's father tried to f*ck her and this dog's owners are paying big bucks to have it's father f*ck it..How f*ckin f*ck f*ck f*ck f*cked is that?"

But I'm not 19 years old anymore. Thank God. I gave up swearing a long time ago. I have the best way to do it now: You look someone in the eye and you say, softly:

"I am unimpressed"

If you mean it - It's worth 250,000 f - you's. But it's heavy so don't throw it around. I used it in a serious confrontation last month so I'm probably covered for a year.

This guy was just annoying. He meant well.

Then I watched him play Sister Wendy as he explained the piece to his friends.

[Pypermarru1]

You are more evolved them me....I continue to smile and think about ways to get away....but I have never say...f-off or "I'm not impressed"
But I swear, as I live and breath....someday, someday, I'm am going to use that badass line "I'm not impressed". Brilliant line....I can't wait.

[SydTheSkeptic]

Flop, where can I get a closer view of the painting you have posted here?

[flophousepoodle]

Resized image for Syd and have to say I did a mighty fine job on the anonymous signature switcheroo.

[SydTheSkeptic]

@flop- LMAO on the "fine job"....thanks for this!

[SydTheSkeptic]

Steely hues,perspective gives me a boxed-in feeling. sleeves pulled up (i can see the working class there), little humanity in the surroundings... Just what comes to mind. I know that when I create something, I'm always interested in others' feelings around it, even if it wasn't intended. Hope this is okay.

[flophousepoodle]

Of course it's okay.

[JustAnotherUserName]

I adore you :-)

[OneSmallVoice]

What?

[NatureJunkie]

I remember telling you that this one was my favorite of the show, and then asking you which one was your favorite.

I admit to being an A-hole. But at least I'm an A-hole who adores you--and that painting.

[NatureJunkie]

BTW, my comment above was just an under-handed way of bragging that I got to see your show and meet one of my two favorite contemporary painters.