I am surrounded by random weirdness

I decided to throw a little informal party. It had been too long since I'd had one.

It was really just an excuse to invite Travis over. Like you couldn't guess. I was a pretty bad hostess; I spent most of the time flirting with him. I mean. gawd. Who could resist? It turns out he moved in pretty close to my house; just around the corner, really. He plays ball, and he's a shoo-in to be one of the Llamas' top draft picks next season. Pretty cool, huh?

So, the other day I had this urge to get out of the house and do something I'd never done before. I was getting into a rut. To be honest, in this little town there aren't exactly a million and one activities to choose from. We'll never be the world's favorite tourist destination. Anyway, I thought I'd go to the art museum and soak up some culture or something.

Tamara walked over from next door to go with me, but just as were leaving, she bugged out. One minute she's there, the next she's gone. She does that kind of a lot. Weird chick. So I went by myself.

Just as I was going in, there was all this commotion from the street. Cycl0n3 Sword, my erstwhile lover, was running hell for leather up the street with a cop in hot pursuit, and Tamara Donner panting and puffing along behind, trying to catch up! What the hell!?

Well, I got all excited for nothing It turned out that they'd been  hanging out, bored like me, and were suddenly seized with the same urge to go and stare at some examples of Sunset Valley's idea of fine art. It sure looked funny, though, and had my imagination working overtime. I was getting all set to go and bail Cycl0n3 out of jail or something.

There were a surprising number of people inside the museum; it was actually crowded. I didn't expect that. Odd that we should all have picked the same day to be culture vultures. Some of the stuff in there is really nice, but some of it ... whew, what a yawnfest.

Cyclone got all officious as he does at times like this, and explained to me more about art theory than I ever wanted to know, and what he thought everything represented. At great length and in enormous detail. I guess to be fair I have to admit he really does know a lot. I suppose if you blog for a living, you probably have to do tons of research on all kinds of topics so you'll sound like you know what you're talking about.

All I really learned is that I don't know anything about painting or sculpture. All my art is in my fingers when they're wrapped around a guitar fretboard.

After a while we strolled over to the bistro for a late dinner because Cycl0n3 assured me he'd die from hunger then and there if we didn't. It was crowded too. I don't think a single soul in Sunset Valley actually stayed in their homes that night. I'm sure nobody was surprised when I whipped out the old guitar. Have crowd, will play.

And speaking of whipping out the old guitar, Zelda arranged an autograph session for me after one of my evening concerts, but she forgot to mention it to me. A couple of women actually followed me home to ask for my autograph! Weird, but flattering. So here I was signing an autograph for a fan when the other woman started having her baby right there in front of my house. All I could think was, "Sweet Jesus, not again."

Fortunately for my peace of mind, she didn't require the use of my bed or even my sofa, and I didn't have to run around boiling hot water or whatever it is you do. She drove herself to the hospital with great presence of mind. I didn't go to the hospital this time. I don't even know this woman. There's a limit.

One night I did two concerts in a row and got home pretty late, so my timing was just right to see one of the Egon's ghosts again. It was that same man I keep seeing but haven't been able to meet. I tried to get his attention, but he ignored me. Every time I've seen him, he pays no attention to me and heads purposefully into the house. Maybe he doesn't care to mingle with the living. Or maybe he's just shy. Zayne, old girl, it's time for some more window peeping!

On my way across the street, I noticed Thornton and little Monika paying a visit to the Kennedys. Or trying to. Thornton looked as if he'd been waiting a long time for somebody to open the door and was getting impatient. I could have told him they wouldn't be at home to visitors after midnight. They never are. I thought it was too late for Monika to be out, myself. But, hey. I'm not her mom.

 

Mr. Ghost was making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Looked like he was making enough for everybody. Well, at least he's a thoughtful ghost.

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Dax and Ginny were pretty dressed up; they must have just got home from a night out. God, I'm nosey!

I couldn't figure out where baby Kristi was until I peered in the bathroom window. She probably crawled in there to flush Daddy's car keys down the toilet or something.

It seems like just yesterday I found out Ginny was pregnant. There sure are lots of people having babies around me lately.

Me, I just live in my own little world of music. There's just nothing better than playing guitar. Unless it's making money playing guitar. Okay, okay. There's one thing better. Hee, hee. I'm so bad.