One of the most fun dates Mr. B and I have ever been on (and yeah, I know, it is ridiculous that we still go on dates even though we are totally in that phase of relationship where I can tell by his breath whether he's woken up with a cold or not, but we like going out so sue us) was to this event called Draw-A-Thon. (NSFW! Thar be naked people!)
Here was how it worked: It would be late in the evening on a weekend, and you went to the back room of a bar, and you scrounged a seat, and you pulled out your sketchbook and your pencils and you drew pictures of the naked ladies (and occasional naked dude) who were posing exaggeratedly on a dais in the middle of the room. Also, employees of the bar periodically came around and took your drink order. Also, spectacular music played, in particular Zombite, which you all should immediately listen to.
So look, does that not sound like the most awesome evening ever? Naked people, beer, a veneer of legitimate artistic endeavor. Spectacular. And I made some really great pictures, and got a little better at resolving my eternal difficulty with knees. And Mr. B and I were both like, oh my god, we have to go to this constantly.
But then it stopped being at the bar, and started being at a long string of "art spaces." And the models got skinnier and skinnier and scarier and scarier, and the themes got weirder and more Freudian, and we kept trying to bring friends, and out-of-town guests, but for some reason no one wanted to go draw naked people at midnight, and for one reason or another we never really made it back.
I'm on the email list, though, and I think that today's email has sort of answered the reason or another. Because this Saturday's Draw-A-Thon is themed Santa's Satan's Sex Slave Shop:
Yes! we are having another Draw-a-thon, a satirical play on Santa, slavery, capitalism, Miss's no cloths, nude elves, female reindeer's, nude carolers, and off course the Grinch that stole sex-mass. 2 rooms short and long poses, and a special priced draw-a-thon for the holidays $17 online and $20 at the door.
Live music by Epileptic Peat
Call me a prude (you're a prude!) but I am a little unsettled by this. Not so much that I can't handle nude elves and what is apparently a wild stampede of rogue apostrophes (she attacks the grammar!), but a band called Epilectic Peat? That sounds like the fake band that the teenage son joins in a Very Special Episode of a mid-80s sitcom. Not the place for me.
(Mr. B notes that now that I've written critically about this event, we are obligated to go to it. To which I note: maybe.)