The Basic History of Western Art

I am sitting in this art class right now. It is a four-hour lecture and it’s boring as piss. I mean, I only have it every other week, which isn’t too bad... But still. I could care less about the history of Western art, as “basic” as they claim it to be. Of all days to have this class though, it had to be today. Today is game day! Steelers vs The Texans! And it’s at home!

I did learn a pretty neat fact in here though. Apparently Nike was a chick, and she was the Goddess of Victory. However, having class for the duration of a Steeler game is some Gestapo sh*t, man. The teacher currently has a power point up, but hasn’t shut the lights off. At least set a nice mood for the nap I am about to take.

For our midterm, we have to visit a museum and observe the work of an artist, then write a paper and do a power point on what we learned and observed. That’s forcing me to pay twenty dollars out of my money for booze and the occasional Primanti’s sandwich to go and do something I don’t want to do! However, there is a silver-lining. I just asked if I could go to that cartoon museum near the Cultural District, and she said yes! As a fan of comics, I kind have been looking for an excuse to visit that place anyway. I just hope they have some Jack Kirby pieces. If they don’t, I’m in trouble again. We also have all these quizzes we have to take. They’re not bad. They are all online, and we can use our books. Easy enough, right? My gripe with the whole thing is that this ENTIRE course should be online. The only day we really need to be present in class is the day of our presentations. Aside from the quizzes and presentation, that’s all we do that counts toward our grade! Great. Now we are watching a documentary on the history of photography. WOO-HOO!! Oh well. Maybe I’ll sit here and reminisce on a pretty funny recent sexual experience I had.

I was a few drinks in and ironically enough I was sitting at my desk working on those quizzes. I was texting this girl who was going to be over in twenty minutes. An hour and several more whiskeys later, she still hadn’t arrived. She shoots me a text saying that she’d be over in fifteen minutes because she had to “get ready.” Sure, doll yourself up for a drunken college student sitting in an empty apartment doing homework. Makes sense. When she shows up, her bright red lipstick emphasized how yellow her teeth actually were. It was okay. The yellow began to fade the more I drank. Then she started drinking a bit. I was happy to oblige he,r but she grabbed the biggest cup in my cabinet for her drink. I still didn’t mind, because I don’t mind sharing. But after about four drinks she was beginning to push it. Luckily we started kissing. Oh, alcohol. It’s quite the love potion, is it not? Soon we were on my white leather couch really going at it. We started ripping each others clothes off and we began to sweat. It was cool. Literally, it was cool. It was the coolness of the white leather couch that kept our sweaty skin under control. When she asked me if I wanted to take her virginity, I respectfully refused because I am far too aware of the baggage that will follow such an act. After my declination I had to improvise. I went down on her. You see, I attended Catholic school, and there, they teach you the Golden Rule: treat others the way you would like to be treated. But since that day, I have abandoned that notion. As soon as I started eating her out, I began to realize that her vagina wasn’t very clean. I had to refrain myself from vomiting into her lady parts, and managed to gag without her even noticing. After that though, that was it. I couldn’t go any further. I somehow convinced her to put her clothes back on, which was weird because it’s usually the other way around. I then darted for the bathroom. I took out some toothpaste, holy water, and my bible and began the exorcism on my mouth. Jesus, I wonder how many of you actually read my posts? Anyway, after the demons had been exorcised, I went into the kitchen and she was in her undies wearing my Army of Darkness t-shirt and cooking scrambled eggs. Despite the previous events that had taken place, this was a pretty dope image. Screw it. Cheers to another drink and to some scrambled eggs. To wrap this all up, sometimes fellow students ask me about this four hour art class. I tell them all the same thing:

"It’s like going down on a pretty girl with a dirty vagina.“