I am still getting used to this blogging thing, and I’ve been given some more advice. A few of my readers have asked for more specifics on my 5-year contract job. Nice try, boners, this isn’t “Letters from the Contract House,” this is just me, just Roxy Kaye, trying to do something meaningful with her life, trying to get her artwork back out there get back into the world of artists once again.
Excuse me, I shouldn’t have slipped into third person there, it’s a little demeaning, much like the irony in most of the words I post on here. But give me a break, folks, I’m trying to tell the story of Roxy the artist, not Roxy the call girl, okay?
Okay. Deep breath.
Ugh, that reminds me of the perfect anecdote to go with this week’s sketch. Without going into too much detail, this is the town doctor, Doc Popov. This past week, I had to do my first annual check up through the contract house, and it was as unpleasant as the first visit, I am very sorry to say.
“Deep breath,” he said, bowing over me awkwardly. I closed my eyes and tried to go to my happy place, which is what I do when, well, you know. Anyway, then he says, “Turn and cough,” and I am thinking WTF, but I comply, and well, ugh, just beware of this man if you don’t absolutely have to go see a doctor, folks, I am sorry he’s the only one in town.
One more deep breath for me, and I’m off to my happy place. And on that note, happy new year! Hoping these next four years fly by so I can be free of my contract and get a start on my real life, like all of this is just one big dream.