I hate the Ann Arbor Art Fair, Part 2: a vase made of dinosaur fossils

The Art Fair, as fun to browse as it is, isn't as fun if you're buying the art.

'Wow, sir, this is a nice bowl.'
'That's no bowl! It's a vase made out of dinosaur fossils!'
'Sorry, my mistake. Well, the price tag says it's 8 dollars. I'll take it?'
'Where does it say it's 8 dollars?'
'Right there, on this tag.'
'That's an infinity sign.'
'I...am going to get a funnel cake now.'

Another thing: If Art is supposedly a classy thing, why is the Art Fair catered by every Fried Meat and Funnel Cakery in the state?

(Friday.)

Today I was supposed to sell the barely-functioning Crown Victoria to Ron, a man who owns a local garage. This involved the following steps:

1. I drove to Murray's to get a new bottle of power steering fluid. The Crown Vic leaks power steering fluid like a cranky, incontinent old man leaks urine. So I guess this means I was buying urine for the old man sitting in the street outside my house.
2. I went home and filled the Crown Vic with power steering fluid. The funnel I used dripped fluid on the front of the car, though. I didn't know if Ron would offer me less money if the car had some red stains on the front of it (I don't understand car people), so I figured this had to be fixed.
   
3. I wiped fluid off the front of the car, put away the funnel, and put the leftover power steering fluid in the trunk for future use.
4. I started the car and, to my surprise, realized the steering wheel would not turn. Turns out, Step 3 gave the power steering fluid enough time to leak out of my car.
5. I filled the car with old man urine again.
6. I jumped in the car and drove to Ron's Garage like it was some bizarre mission in a video game. "Drive your rusty noisebox to the garage while it's able to turn. The mission is failed when the fluid is gone and you've crashed into something. You may or may not be injured."
7. The guy at Ron's Garage told me that Ron had gone home. Yesterday he told me he'd be there until 5. I got there a little after 4.
8. I left the car at Ron's and walked home.
9. I wrote out the steps in my blog.
10. I included writing the list in the list itself because I'm so goddamn clever.

Getting rid of that dead car is exhausting. Maybe I would have been better off filling it with homeless people and driving it into a lake.

I don't even know why I typed that. It's just mean, and putting the homeless people in the car doesn't add anything to the car disposal process. Except maybe laughter.

I just mentally pictured homeless people being locked in my car and pushed into a lake. Then I pictured them growing gills and living happily at the bottom of the lake like the packaging for Sea Monkeys.

I wish that would really happen so I could justify dumping my vagrant-filled car into a body of water.

I hate the Ann Arbor Art Fair, Part 1

The Art Fair starts today, beginning its Reign of Terror, which will last until Saturday.

Not familiar with the Ann Arbor Art Fair? Run through this thought exercise with me.

Imagine your favorite city. Nice, isn't it? Now imagine that someone filled the streets with garbage, making travel by car into and out of the city nearly impossible.

Now imagine white tents pop up over the street garbage people begin selling the garbage for a lot of money. Seven hundred dollars for some wind chimes made out old Coke bottles? A thousand dollars for a bike pump glued to a dead guinea pig? Why not, Art Fair?

The townies think art should be done all year and celebrated locally, whereas Art Fair people come to down once a year to sell expensive garbage art. I say both of you camps of assholes need to get a real job and get the hell out of Ann Arbor, you fat dickheads.

(work, 8-6.)

A friend yelled at me because her parents bought really nice things at the Art Fair today. And if they got nice things, how could the Art Fair be bad?

I'll tell you how: The Art Fair exists not so much to display art, but to sell it. People fly out from all over the country to show off their art and then sell it for a lot of money. Why drive out to Ann Arbor if you're not going to make some sweet green selling your paintings of cityscapes and ceramic animals?

The paintings are of cityscapes and the animals are ceramic. Just taking a paragraph to clarify that nobody is selling paintings of ceramic animals. This year...

Anyway, people sell stuff at the Art Fair for a lot of money so it's worth their whiles. Students, however, do not have money, let alone money to spend on decorations fancier than a Fight Club poster. Ooooh, or how about that poster that looks like the Periodic Table of Elements, only instead of atomic weights and stuff, it has recipes for different shots? That's great art. Fuck tungsten and argon; the color-coded ingredients of the Slippery Nipple and the Gorilla Fart make cool, inexpensive college kid art.

College students can't spend an entire paycheck on a clay iguana, a stained glass Jesus face, or a serving plate made of authentic Ethiopian poop. All we see are tourists looking at overpriced art, traffic jams, tourists dragging their children through crowds, closed roads, and tourists eating fried foods. Why exactly should we embrace the Art Fair again?

Also, the friend whose parents bought Art Fair stuff lives in a house that has 7 bathrooms. Maybe they can enjoy the Art Fair, but those of us with 6 bathrooms or less aren't having a good time.

(Anne O' Nym, you know I think you're swell, so don't get mad when I talk about all your bathrooms.)