So I Married an Art Collector...

So, a couple of weeks ago I got married.

And the wedding was great.

But the thing is I never knew a certain side of Bil... an artsy-fartsy side... a hoity-toity side... his inner art collector.

Our honeymoon started out fabulously -- the wedding night on the Queen Mary,

the day at Disneyland rumor-mongering with Mr. Toad,

the perverse things performed in the Disneyland Hotel that night.... hehehe.

And then we got on a cruise to Catalina and Ensenada, Mexico. Fabulous indeed. I had a bit of a cold (leave it to me to get a goddamn cold on my honeymoon), but all was blissful and wonderful.

After a brief fire drill thingy where we had to drunkenly make our way to our "Muster Station,"

we left Long Beach and headed to Avalon. Long Beach, coincidentally, is prettier at night.

Avalon, coincidentally, is prettier in the late afternoon.

After Avalon, we heard a rumor of a preview of the art that would later be auctioned off onboard the cruise. (Actually, to be fair, the part that we heard was "free champagne.")

So we went for the champagne and to see the rumored Picasso that they would be auctioning off on Thursday.

It was funny because there was a shitload of Peter Max crap that they were also auctioning off -- total crap, and really on the same level as the Kinkades they were also selling.

If you have no taste, click here or here. We considered following a dashing fellow who looked like he was still wearing--I shit you not--the tuxedo from his first failed marriage to a woman who should have been a starlet but was really a hooker way back in 1972. We simply called him Disco Stu. Sadly, we were too drunk to capture him digitally to share with you, ceaseless readers. It was then only Tuesday...

Wednesday was spent in Ensenada, Mexico.

A Very Large Flag flies high over the city. It's a Mexican flag. For Mexico. We drank margaritas... loads of margaritas... and then we looked like this:

The rest of Wednesday was a bit cloudy, but we did see La Bufadora, one of three blowholes in the world.

(On a brief tangent, I don't think the tour guide had been to Washington, D.C., where there are a veritable plethora of blowholes...).

Thursday was a day at sea, and the day I was officially in bed sick all day. Bummer.

I sent Bil about the ship to do my bidding... he brought me orange juice, checked out the prices on the duty-free rum (8 dollars for a litre...) and checked out the art auction with the specific instructions to 1. not buy anything! and 2. follow Disco Stu and find out if he lives on the ship... 3 hours later Bil returned with the free $95 art that was promised for going to the thing... and a tale of woe. Disco Stu was not at the auction. Sad.

Also, he accidentally purchased a work by Emile Bellet. He saw it and knew it was one that I liked, but he coughed and missed the price. So he asked the guy next to him what the going price was, and the guy said $160. So Bil thought, "I can buy that for Devon." And he raised his little card (number 434) in the air, and the auctioneer said, "I see the gentleman over there for $1660, do I have $1700? $1700? Going, going... and sold to the gentleman right over there" very fast in that auctioneer sort of way.

And within a week of being married to me, Bil had his first my-wife-is-going-to-kill-me moment.
Ladies and gentlemen, I inspire this sort of terror in my husband already... And that is how my new husband bought us a piece of art. And it is beautiful.

And post-wedding, we can actually afford it. So thanks to all of you who unwittingly made donations to the Bil's Personal Welfare Fund. Our new painting should arrive in Chicago sometime in the next 5 weeks.
As soon as we got home, I told my mother about it,

and she sagely said, "Don't tell your father." Some things never change.

(Additionally, she comforted us both by saying, "You know one day your kids will fight over who gets that painting.")

Coincidentally, the guy who misquoted the price to Bil quickly moved to another part of the room.

I have a very special husband.

That is all.