By W. R. Jones

    I hesitate to tell you all the story of this painting.  The unbelievable injustice perpetrated upon me will, most likely, cause you severe mental anguish.   I’m going to suggest that you send me a sympathy check (love offering – please nothing less than $20) before you read on.  I’m just afraid this sad tale will cause copious tears which could ruin the check before it gets in the mail.

    I paid hard earned saw mill dollars to attend Lisa’s still life workshop sometime ago.  Being the eager beaver I am, I showed up early.   I was expecting to start right in painting, but no, I had to set up my own scene.  Hey, what exactly am I paying for?   I asked if there were any rugby shirts, shot shells, and Playboy magazines to create my still life, but was, a little too sharply I thought, told it had to be flowers.

    Ok, I’m flexible; I hung a thick cloth cover from my belt to cover my boys so they wouldn’t be traumatized by all this feminine paraphernalia, and set up a table of flowers.

    As one would expect from a flower painting class, there were mostly women around me.  I tried my best to open up a little friendly conversation.   I casually, in my most helpful tone of voice, mentioned to the lady on my right that she should consider leaning into her razor a little more in the morning.  The hair on her upper lip was catching the light just right, throwing off a mini halo and making her lip look like Jesus taking a nap.   She didn’t take this suggestion quite the way I expected.  I was planning on giving her some good shaving tips like doing it in the shower – which softens up the whiskers after you have been in there 45 minutes.  It does wrinkle the skin a little but at her age it wouldn’t be noticeable.

    She made it abundantly clear, even to a semi concious man like myself, she was not interested in my shaving expertise.

    I tried talking to the woman on my left but after only a short few words I had to give her my honest opinion that she should seek a charisma transplant, assuming she could find a suitable donor.

    This socialization was not going well.  I gave myself a little talking to; no more negative comments, buddy.   I approached a woman across the room and told her I REALLY admired her legs.  That brought a smile to her face.  Now I’m getting somewhere; making a new friend.   “Yep”, I say, “I myself have always wanted calves like a 265 lb linebacker.”  The look on her face; you would have thought I insulted her.

    Lisa comes screaming, “That’s it, out, out, out.  Three strikes, you are out.”  I never knew she was so knowledgeable about sports.  I guess that is why she is always wearing baseball caps.   She told me I could paint outside.

    I had to paint these through the window.  I wasn’t quite tall enough (even though I’m 6’4″) to see so I had to stackup some loose bricks to stand on.  Here is a tip for you – when you are standing on a pile of loose bricks don’t step back to look at your painting.  This painting looks pretty good hanging here in my hospital room.

This entry was posted in Humor, Painting, Still Life. Bookmark the permalink.

20 Responses to GET OUT!!!

  1. lori says:

    Things could have been worse Bill, at least they didn’t arrest you for being a peeping Tom!

    I like the painting, I am kind of wondering whats in that dark background? A bunch of mad women looking back at you?

  2. Nava says:

    Ahhhh, you are such a misunderstood soul. Thanks for the warning – your heartrending story made me consume the contents of 2 packs of Kleenex. Yes, with Aloe Vera. I never miss an opportunity to soften my whiskers.

    The (soaked in tears) check is in the mail.

  3. Thanks for the chuckles. Hope you’re healing well.

  4. wrjones says:

    Lori – I was trying to be a peeping Bill, er Tom, but Lisa put up a black curtain behind the flowers.

    Nava – thank you so much for your understanding. I’m waiting for that check with a blow dryer in my hand.

    Thanks, Diana. I’m able to set up long enough to change the sheets now. I sure wish I had some ice cream.

  5. Yea, what’s with women and goddamn flowers all the time! Well aren’t we being sweeeeet! Who do they think they are?…a gaggle of Girl Scouts?! Howbout an F-18 strafing an Afgan orphanage? I know some dudes in the White House who would pay some big bucks for that. Howbout the same scenario looking through a window?! I envision an all male workshop!

  6. Love the painting and your posting had me laughing out loud – great blog. I discovered you through a mention on Peter Yesis’s blog. I’ll be back!

  7. theresia says:

    love the paintings. Good works :)

  8. wrjones says:

    David – you are an artistic visionary. I’m trying to rent an F18 to paint it strafing an orphanage. I’m thinking I will have to use Mexican children just because of the logistics. Do you know how to fly one of those things? It will have to be multiple passes as I don’t paint that fast.

    Thanks Cara. When you return could you please bring me an egg sandwich with mayonnaise?

    Theresia – thanks for blogging by. This is a non profit public gallery and wiffledust space. A donation in the little yellow jar by your mouse will help us keep our terminals open.

  9. bonnieluria says:

    What hospital- so I can send the 20 bucks in a get well card.
    Just don’t get so well that we won’t spit our coffee through our noses when we read your blog in the morning.

    And another lovely painting, for a guy.

  10. I agree with Bonnie! There have been several instances where Dr. W.R.’s stories have initiated my breakfast coffee being propelled through my nose…a combination of a drowning sensation (kinda like water boarding which we all know is not torture) and intense laughing!

  11. Dawn says:

    I think your original idea of using the playboy and the shot shells and rugby shirt would have been interesting! Funny article. You should write for a paper.

  12. wrjones says:

    Bonnie – That is so nice of you. Please save the $20 to get me something to put under the tree at Christmas. They don’t let us have money here. It is not a regular hospital but a Pa hospital as they call them in Japan. A place for those of us who can’t quite get a cohesive grasp of our various mental pieces.

    David – I really like the fact that you are one of the few who realize waterboarding is NOT a torture. I’ve used it on the kids for years. For fun I used to give them a new toy, then when they weren’t looking I would hide it. I would waterboard them for hours asking how they had lost the new toy I worked so hard to buy. They loved it; at least I thought those were screams of joy. I always thought all kids were involved in waterboarding. Later I found out it was SKATEboarding – well, for Christ’s sake, my bad.

    Dawn – If you will send me those items – and I want the Playboy with a clean, unwrinkled centerfold, I will paint a still life just for you.

  13. I believe I invited you to take one of my workshops Bill. Consider my invitation null and void!!

  14. ivdanu says:

    A wise man wrote once that a person (well, man or woman) should be lapidated (I think Iran still has that punishment for adultery!) if he or she would always speak the truth. That is a society destroinng technique, more efficient then the nuclear devices…

    But, in my opinion, your are just a poor man craving for gentle sex attention. You still have to learn how to get it proper but for a first time it’s not so bad…

  15. I’m not sure what Danu has in mind for you here Bill. But I reconsidered, and you make take a workshop as long as you pay first and set yourself up across the street where you can peer through the trees at the class.

  16. wrjones says:

    That is it, Danu, I just need a little gentle sex attention. Oh, it can be a little rough, but no biting.

    Susan, I’m getting better. They tell me I will be out of here in a few months. I’m not sure if they mean out of the institution entirely or only this chair I’m strapped to. I’m in group therapy for mouth control. I’ve told every one of those twits what is wrong with them, in my most helpful tone of voice. The doctor says if I don’t shut up he is going to tasar me and let the rest of the group have a go at waterboarding.

  17. Melinda says:

    You’re a delight, Bill. You’ve nearly rendered me speechless and that is not a pretty picture.

    Would you like to borrow the F-18s that fly over my house nearly every week, or perhaps, an A-10 would suffice? We have lots of sweet, endearing, Mexican children suffering heat exhaustion from travelling the desert north with their parents, for embarrassing little pay, that would pose for a pitiful fee. Some say the planes represent the sound of freedom…and, I’m being deafened, shaken and distracted as I inhale the fumes of all this freedom. Please. Take these planes!

  18. wrjones says:

    Thanks, Melinda. How would your family feel about speechless? I would take the planes but can’t afford the gas for them. We will be doing our straffing runs via bicycle.

    Why are you sticking your tongue out at me? I must say that is not very lady like.

  19. Melinda says:

    Bill, you’ve no idea how happy they’d be. Two quiet guys who prefer computers, one with an ipod/cell phone with texting and a samurai dvd running on the tv don’t really want to hear, “Gaah, who forgot to take in this cup of milk with the coating of mung in it?!”

    Sorry ’bout the sticking-out-of-the-tongue. I’ve no idea how that happened. Around here, no one calls me lady like…they call me “A force of nature.”

    Dang. Maybe you could build a still and produce some bio fuel for a proper strafing. But, first, I hope you’ll post more artwork!

  20. wrjones says:

    Melinda – If I build a still I will be drinking that rotgut and get nothing out.

    You should go around the house and kiss each of your household and thank your lucky stars you aren’t stuck with a ner-do-well like myself.

    They call me “useless” except when I occasionally do something at random like change a lightbulb. Then my wife sarcastically refers to me as “handy man” for the next three weeks.

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