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R came by last night, briefly, met my guests and had a chat with me on the fire escape. I mentioned I'd applied for the Art Institute job, and he said "Well, make them fix their shit" because the armor's been moved and African and Native American art now share a room, and he doesn't like it (most people don't).

Sam: Yeah, and the Picasso maquette's been moved out by the Chagall Windows and the Trading Floor.
R: The what?
Sam: When the old Stock Exchange was demolished, they disassembled the trading floor and rebuilt it inside the Art Institute. You can have weddings there.
R: What an evil place to have a wedding!
Sam: It's a gorgeous room though.
R: For decades, dreams were destroyed in that room.
Sam: I'd still get married there.

Which apparently hit a sore spot.

R: So I went down to see my ma in Indiana on Sunday, and we had dinner, like...her and her husband, my godparents, and another couple, friends-of-the-family, who are visiting.
Sam: Wow. That's a lot of...something.
R: It was like an hour and a half of porkchops and "So why aren't you married?"
Sam: For real? Even my mother doesn't give me that.
R: Everyone I know gives me that.
Sam: You should just...tell her you got married. On the Trading Floor!
R: "Ma, Sam and I decided...fuck it."
Sam: "He's keeping his place, but we'll make it work."

Given his mother's temperment and the longstanding but unacknowledged feud between her and me, this could cause more problems than it solves.

On the other hand, I'd get my Trading Floor wedding.

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That last post on LJ was a little obscure, wasn't it? Contextless ducks. Ducks are one of the funniest animals though, and as a few of you pointed out, I have mine in a row.

This post is about ducks and dicks, actually. I've heard back from Suzanne, who I think I can confidently state at this point is my source within the Art Institute Museum. :D Our exchange over Apollo And His Metaphorical Dick Slaying Python generated another post on the ARTIC blog, including a link back to my original post which, as Suzanne pointed out, is getting a little meta. But at the ARTIC blog post you can see a closeup of the defaced Apollo and his massive quiver, in case you were curious.

Every time I go to the exhibit I see something I missed before. This latest time, I saw a reliquary with the actual relic still inside, which a) WAS AWESOME, I've never seen a piece of a saint before, and b) I guess means when I visit the Art Institute Museum I see bones everywhere. But honestly, if you're in Chicago from now through July 10th, you really should try to catch the exhibit. Tomorrow is a free-admission day all day long!

Go on. You know you want to play hooky to go to the art museum and look at Renaissance peen.

And if you're really feeling conservative, they also have American Gothic, you know.

AHRT!

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It's Tuesday night, and while my schedules a little bit off I subjected my guests to my weekly vice, which means it's time for Sam's Three Things About White Collar!

Spoilers for Episode 3.05: ( Veiled Threat )

3a. I don't think it's a spoiler to say wow Peter and Neal must talk on the phone about what they're going to wear every morning, because coordinating Neal's semi-tacky purple suit with Peter's violet shirt and purple tie clearly took some pre-planning. I'm all for the boys coordinating, and I love the sheer amount of purple this show puts its heroes in, but I can't get over the mental image of -- wait no. Neal totally calls Elizabeth every morning and it's like:

El: He'll be there in ten minutes.
Neal: Shirt?
El: Light pink.
Neal: He's oddly fond of pink.
El: He thinks it makes his tan pop.
Neal: Okay, pastel pink tie with a cream linen shirt. Got it.
El: When do you think he'll notice you do this?
Neal: You assume he's ever going to notice. Kisses.
El: Kisses!

Peter, meanwhile, wonders why Neal LOLs whenever he says he likes his tie.