She's Got it All

A few years ago, one of the guys at work got me to sign up for a figure drawing class. Another guy that used to work with him signed up as well. Eight or nine people showed up for the first class, and we all gathered around and set our easels up in a circle. The instructor introduced herself as the model got undressed. We were supposed to be doing quick studies the first class, which means we could only spend two or three minutes on each sketch. And I have to give the model credit; she had a different pose each time. At one point, she was actually doing a handstand with her back up against the wall. I know there are people who are into some crazy things, but I wouldn't be surprised if there are only a select few who can say they've witnessed a naked woman doing a handstand.

I actually saw her a few months later, standing in line at Kinko's. I resisted the urge to say "Hey, I know you! I drew you naked. I almost didn't recognize you with clothes on."

The next week we had a male model. That was kind of weird, but it's art so you get over it. He was hard to draw, though, because he kept changing size.

Heading into the third week, we joked about wondering what we'd be drawing this week, since we had a woman the first week and a man the second. The teacher was running late, and neither of the previous models were there. There was someone over in the corner, I couldn't quite tell if it was a man or a woman. Depending on the light, it looked like either a light blond young man or a white-haired older woman. The person spoke, but the voice wasn't particularly masculine or feminine. They asked if the teacher was here yet, and after a few minutes, they started to take their clothes off.

First she took off her shirt. Oh. it's a woman. Then he took off his pants. Oh. Ohh...

Waitaminute. What? What's going on? What am I looking at? I mean, he's got...but also...what the hell am I looking at?!

What I was looking at was a pudgy, naked, pre-op transsexual. The next week, the teacher apologized profusely. It seems that when she was booking models, this one, whom she had never worked with, wrote male on the application and never mentioned his desire to become a hideous albino woman. She said she was very sorry and embarrassed and we would not have that model again. We didn't know any of this that week, of course. I for one assumed she had hired a hermaphrodite so we could speed up our skills drawing the male and female form simultaneously. Nope. Not a hermaphrodite. Just a plain ol' transsexual.

This was not an attractive man, but sweet singing Sally, he made an ugly woman. Not satisfied with what the good Lord gave him, (and I wouldn't be either, considering it was little more than a nub) he had taken it upon himself to buy a pair of equally small and pasty breasts. I just couldn't bring myself to draw the Whole Experience, so I just alternated each drawing between average-looking male and monstrous female. I no longer have those pictures, but to give you a visual, there are three words that best describe what stood (and dangled) awkwardly in front of us:

Phillip. Seymour. Hoffman.

And that was the strangest thing I've ever seen in Boston.

An interesting side note, the teacher usually had the radio on while we sketched, and while we were drawing Pat or whatever his/her name was, the song Laid came on, which feature the lines

Dress me up in women's clothes
Messed around with gender roles
Dye my eyes and call me pretty

Eerie.

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Monday morning, there's bound to be a bajillion write-ups about the Big Game, but only one will be written by me. Will Freddie Mitchell still be thanking his hands for being so great? Find out Monday. Well, find out on Sunday and then read about it on Monday. But in the meantime, you can waste away the hours reading the archives. And if you've had all you can stand of puke green, then head over to trinamick's blog. She's gotta be the most consistently funny person I know. Or check out thesneeze.com, by the most consistently funny person I'd never heard of until two days ago. There's also a great Star Wars parody, Episode III, A Lost Hope, at sequentialpictures.com, assuming their server hasn't crashed due to heavy traffic. Lastly, there's a trailer at apple.com for Tim Burton's Corpse Bride. That is one demented guy right there.

That ought to keep you occupied for a while. See you Monday, and go Patriots! Or Eagles. Whatever's cool.