People always be asking me if I’m gonna load up on Parisian museums. As the Puerto Rican kids used to say, hells no. Museums bore me and make my legs achy. Sort of like when your girlfriend/wife shops for clothes while you mindlessly trudge forward, guiding the cart like a broken ox. Not that I would know.
Worthy of achy legs:
- The blurry impressionist stuff at Chicago’s Art Institute.
- The shrunken heads at Chicago’s Field Museum. I hadn’t seen them since I was a boy, so a few years back I dropped in on them. No luck. I was informed that the heads have been in storage for 20+ years because “they’re not very PC”. Nice job with that.
Today, for no good reason I dragged Shut-in to the Andy Warhol Museum. *Yawn*. Stripped of his aura and hype, little of Andy’s work warranted attention. The highlight of the trip was a Cuban sandwich from the basement cafe. Yumzies!
Fun fact #1: In college I tried to switch my major to Art. I was told that my grades were too low, and that I’d have to stick with Math. Fun fact #2: Shut-in has an Art degree, and he agreed that Mr. Warhol was a lame.
In other “news”, yesterday Zach and I danced to this song. Afterwards we listened/sang along 6 more times while clearing furniture and playing living room hockey. Aside from the potential “losing teeth” aspect of the game, living room hockey is maximum father/son fun.