Collin was just driving me home from the doctor, who was all, “Yeah, you have ATOMIC eczema… that will be 25 dollars.” Tragically, he had his eyes on the road instead of where I was pointing and mumbling, “Holy… um… holy… UM HOLY POINT POINT POINT.” So you’re just going to have to take my word on this one…
But I swear to god I saw a woman in a bridal gown lying upside down on the steps of the Mellon Institute.
I think she was being photographed. I mean… I didn’t see a photographer. But… why else would that be happening?
She maybe was just some poor bride who finally fell down after trucking through the ceremony, the reception, the after party, the after after party, the post-wedding brunch, the brunch after party, the brunch after after party, the brunch after after after party, a Monday at work where everyone kept asking her why she hadn’t changed since Saturday morning (how rude), happy hour, running back to the office to grab her brief case and a few cruel steps away from the bus stop tripping on the concrete steps and dashing her wifely brains out. But I guess it’s OK because she didn’t die single?
Which brings me back to the photo shoot possibility: assuming there WAS a photographer hiding behind a column or something, why is “dead bride on concrete steps” something that should be the subject of a photograph? Maybe I don’t get art.
Or maybe I hallucinated the whole thing. That’s somehow the least upsetting possibility.