The Art Opening

Last night I attended an art opening. It was part of an event called, "First Friday," where an area near downtown that houses lots of galleries has open houses block after block, craft vendors set up tables and musicians play in the street.
Alas, my friend's opening featured some very sub-par photography.
I didn't mention how homely I thought his stuff was until I spoke to a friend afterwards on the phone and she said, "That stuff really sucked."
I readily agreed.
In San Antonio, art fairs mean one thing: Frida Kahlo. There were at least 50,000 items for sale that featured her visage. Light switch covers, boxes, altars, magnets, portraits, decoupage, journals, you name it and there were the familiar unibrow and light mustache.
Seems in this town, all you need is a picture of Frida Kahlo, some glitter and a bottle of Elmer's glue and you have yourself a career as an artisan.
My favorite art piece from last night was a portrait of Pope John Paul, cuddling with the Virgen de Guadalupe. It went way beyond creepy into downright bizarre.
Then there was a group of nerdy types who had a section roped off where they offered free "encouraging words." My pals Roger, Ted and I got snagged into trying it and we had to stand there while three of them took turns complimenting us.
They said I looked like someone who liked to cook. Once I heard that, I bolted out of the herd and stomped off.
Hrumph. I'll bet they don't say shit like that to skinny chicks.