Downtown, 1:19 p.m. – Ugly art surrounds me

Business is booming at this downtown art fair. Also booming is this woman’s rear end at the tent nearest me. She ought have the grace (or good sense) not to wear stretchy fabrics if she’s going to be bending over a lot. I see London, I see France, I see this fat WOACA’s underpants!

Anyway. There are more stuck-up old people walking around looking at ugly art than I care to talk about. There’s a couple camped out on the next picnic table over that has huge sun hats on.

They already have a bag full of stuff and they’re perusing this brochure like they’re planning the invasion of Normandy. “What about this aisle here and then meet up at this stall?”

There’s a grouping of four old people on the table over from that that BROUGHT A COOLER. I kid you not. They brought supplies to an art show. Not art supplies. Food supplies. They’re not vendors, just shoppers. Old people are serious about their shopping in this town.

One old lady is dressed in a Marcel Marceau costume and I keep waiting for her to jump up and burst into a “Mime trapped in a Glass Box” routine. Instead, I think she’s trapped in bad fashion.

Oh my Aztec gods. The fat woman from earlier has been joined by another woman in a black and white tropical print. Every time she bends over I get palm fronds the size of Loch Ness staring me in the face.

There is a very tan, very fit man doing some things with telescopes. He has on a hat that would look at home on Crocodile Dundee and shades.

Random fashion advice. Fat ladies should not wear tiny backpacks. It does not work.

More random advice. Ugly art does not look better in large groupings. If anything, the ugliness is compounded. Think of a thrift shop. That sad and misused couch you donated just looks all the worse for being lumped together with its cast-off brethren.

I truly pity the people who feel that they have to fill their walls with all this bad art. I can see seascapes with umbrellas, seascapes with clouds, seascapes done in watercolor, seascapes with lighthouses, seascapes with forests in the background … you get the picture. Lots of sand and water.

The couple with the floppy sun hats is moving off. He’s breaking right and she’s breaking left. I wonder who will benefit from their large-wallet largesse?

The telescope man has hooked some victims. And he’s trying to sell a book to some poor unsuspecting woman. “You could see it if that cloud would cooperate.”

There is a woman wearing a black shirt standing at the telescope looking puzzled. Seriously. Who wears a damn black shirt to an OUTDOOR ART FAIR on a hot day? Are you insane? Well, if you plan to buy this art, maybe.

Telescope man is pimping this astronomy book like it is an Oprah best-seller. He’s moving this couple back and forth between the telescopes.

Let’s talk about Oprah. I don’t like Oprah. She’s a heifer. She let George Bush on her show in 2000 and let him kiss her on the cheek. Now look where we are. Shame on YOU Oprah. Shame on YOU!

Fashion disaster. Purple skirt. Pink top. Muffin top that prevents the twain from meeting.

Karma is a cruel mistress. I was just thinking “Who comes to an outdoor art fair in six-inch-high wedge heels” as this overdressed yuppie walked by. Ten feet later, she stumbled and went down. Slaves to fashion will always pay a heavy price.

There’s a random woman on a Segway wearing a Santa cap rolling around. I’d like a Segway.

OK. I’m done and I’m hungry. Must eat brains.

Peace out.

Greek restaurant, 7:14 p.m. – Tourists, hummus and Serbian pop do not a pleasant evening make

Who knew that Greek, I asked SERBIAN, pop music could have such a thumping beat?

I’ve already accomplished one of the things I wanted to when I started “21 Minutes” – and that was to get out more and be exposed to different things. I think Serbian pop certainly counts in that regard.

If you’re looking for some thumping beats – check out Lepa Brena – maybe not for everyone, but definitely for me!

There are only two waiters and one cook in the restaurant tonight – and the waiters have the sounds system BANGING. It is like a disco up in here. Apparently the audible wants and needs of the customers are secondary. I love a good café.

There is a family over to my immediate right. They are the ultimate modern American nuclear family on vacation – and they have no business being in a Greek restaurant. None. None at all.


I saw the waiter roll his eyes at least three times while trying to take their drink order. Please do not be trying to sample of the ethnic food if you do not be liking of the different spices.

They ordered four waters, mulled the menu for ten minutes, then ordered the house red (for him) and house white (for her). The daughter is apparently picky and has to have a cheese pizza – but only with white cheese. The boy wants chicken – but not a chicken pita – because hummus is not acceptable. Hmm. Did they not notice that this was a GREEK restaurant? The final order has lots of “on the sides” and “withouts.” It is a comedy of errors.

The décor in here is “interesting” – to say the least. It leans very heavily on the romanticized view of Greek mythology made popular by storytellers and fables and with a full measure of sensuality.

Right now, I’m staring at a full-breasted Medusa clad only in her crown of snakes. She could definitely use a visit to a Victoria’s Secret. There are even the suggestions of nipples painted on there.

On the back wall, there’s a six-foot-wide version of a winged Icarus in flight – clad only in a codpiece (I’ve waited YEARS to use that in an entry). I wonder if the ancient Greeks had such “defined” six-packs?

Personally, I love the décor and the slightly snotty waiters (the service is always uniformly haughty here, no matter which vampiric Greek you get) – rather annoying at first, especially as someone who wants good service, but it does eventually add to the charm once they get to know you.

Heh. The wife of the vacationing family was so busy yelling at her daughter about not playing her Nintendo DS at the table that she nearly leaned right into a full plate of food. Logic, my dear fishwife. You see the waiter coming. Shut up and be still so that he may put the hot plates down!


No one at that table likes their food. They are taking tiny bites and nibbling the pita bread and picking around the peppers. I would feel sorry for them, but it is VERY obvious this is a Greek restaurant. Moreover, they are the very stereotype of the Ugly American Tourist. And they're not even in another country.

The table in front of me has read the Sunday New York Times – cover to cover – over three courses – salad, appetizer and entrée. I’m only shocked they didn’t order dessert. This place makes baklava like nobody’s business. Sinfully delicious.

The Serbian pop is still thrumming out over the airwaves. I can only imagine the party once the customers leave.

On that note, I’m out.