Okay. Here’s another real-life person. What I realize in painting up these folks, I’m portraying more personality than who they are/were physically. This new person looked very young for her 35 years, so that’s what I’m remembering here.
Other than that, I realize I’ve been messing around with this Create Art Every Day concept and as you can plainly see, I haven’t exactly kept my word on that or NaNo. I’m too deliberate. To a fault, I must say. So, the first step to recovery is admission. I really thought I could swing it ’cause about five years ago, I consciously created 60 pieces in 30 days. But I have to say, I was also teaching myself watercolor and dabbling around. I have to make this right some kinda way but —Hold on folks, I hear my phone going off…
Ringa- damn ring! Ringa-damn ring! Ringa-
Totsy: (Rolling my eyes when I see Donna’s name on the Caller ID) Hello?
Donna Damitte (silent e): Hello, Ms. Totsy (fake cough, sniff, sniff, breathing heavy through the mouth. Another cough…breathing heavy again in my ear after all that acting and shit) I’m calling to let you know I won’t be at work tomorrow. I’ve come down with something all of a sudden and I just wanted to let you know early, so somebody can work for me.
Totsy: Oh, really now… So, you gonna take your ass to a doctor or keep smoking weed, drinking and acting like you can’t afford a co-pay?
Donna Damitte: I really am sick this time, Ms. Totsy. My husband took my temperature and it’s 101. I can’t seem to (cough, sneeze, sneeze bitch sneeze and keep lying!). Can’t seem to stop coughing or keep any food down. I’ve been throwing up and my bowels are loose. I’m sitting on the toilet as I speak.
Then I hear a car racing past and some man in the background say something like, “Come on, tell that bitch you ain’t coming and that’s that.”
Donna Damitte: (Go to coughing and throwing some whooping-like sound in there and putting her hand down her throat to throw up in my goddamn ear!).
Totsy: (Go to thinking, ‘Now, if I had the power to reach through this damn phone, I’d strangle this bitch! Don’t nobody get majorly sick every other damn week.’ I clear my throat and tame the beast.) Look, Donna. I’m trying to expand my marketability in the workplace. You know, move up the little ladder here and basically be the shit who knows the shit. Tell me, and I’m coming to you ’cause you’re so talented and all, but how do I transition into being a dumb ass? Can you help me with that? (Smiling as I wait for this new information that will change the course of my life.)
Donna Damitte: Why, what do you mean, Ms. Totsy? I really am sick. It feels like I’m gonna die right here on this toilet. (Another car zooms past.)
Totsy: Look Damitte, I ain’t referencing your sickness right now. I’m merely trying to make moves in certain circles. I feel so confident that you’re the one who could hip me on all the qualifications for being a dumb ass. I simply don’t think my current position is working for me as well as yours is for you.
Donna Damitte: (Go all quiet and shit. Stank lying ass ain’t flushed a toilet yet) Well, goddammit Ms. Totsy, you never take time off. You’d do me a favor by offering me a little advice. Looks to me you know more about being a dumb ass than you think.