Dec 182012
 

Sometime last month, I won a premium membership to the Carnegie Museums thanks to my OCD-caliber competitive walking. This was the perfect prize, because Henry, Chooch and I are constantly going out and doing shit, and now we could add four different museums to our weekend itinerary—for FREE.

My brother Corey and I had been wanting to go to the Warhol Museum for awhile now, and that’s one of the museums covered under my membership. Henry did NOT want to go, at ALL, because art is not something he learned to appreciate in the SERVICE.

(Not unless it involves Thai hookers and Vick’s VapoRub, but I’m sure there is some niche art gallery out there somewhere in Brooklyn that might offer some nuances of just that.)

But Chooch did want to go, so I decided then that we would ALL go. 

Clearly, Chooch couldn’t wait.

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I should have known that this might not have been the best place to take Chooch.

No, let me rephrase that.

This was not the best place to take Chooch at the same time as COREY. Corey is like a walking IV drip of saccharine and caffeine for that kid. Probably if I had taken Chooch alone, or if Henry had taken Chooch alone, things would have been much different.

(Read: calmer.)

Five minutes after checking in (amid scowls from the museum employees), Chooch charged into a small theater room playing some film of women being interviewed in the 70s. I was actually quite interested in sticking around and watching some of it, but Chooch peaced out after 90 seconds, sending the rest of us running after him.

“Well, he got the ‘quickly’ part right,” Corey laughed, referencing the sign at the door that said: Please enter quickly and quietly.

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This happened moments before I was chastised for not reading the NO PICTURES sign. The docents (all young scowling hipster art students with greasy hair and stupid fucking eyeglasses) reeeeealllly hated us there. And I promise you we weren’t even being that diabolical. Henry and I weren’t whistling and looking up at the ceiling while our child ran wild (like some parents I know, names withheld) — we weren’t going to let him charge the world-reknown Marilyn Monroe portrait with a barbed-wired fist, OK? We had him under control. He was just excited to be with his uncle.

And I’ll tell you another thing — I have seen young adults acting like complete fuckfaces in places like that, so step off. He certainly wasn’t disrupting the other museum guests. You know how I know? Because they were all SMILING at him and one guy even stopped and said to me, “He totally made this museum for me” after Chooch sat in a corner with a pouty face, reenacting a Deborah Kass “Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner.”

Believe me, I call a dick a dick when I see one, and Chooch was just being a kid.

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One of the floors was nothing but videos projected on screens. Corey pointed out a sign that said “May Contain Adult Content,” so I was doing my best to shield Chooch. However, he and I entered one of the rooms and my initial reaction to the very first video loop was to grab Chooch by his invisible suspenders and yank him back out of the room.

“What?” he questioned, shrugging out of my clutch. “It’s just a lady eating a banana!”

(It was a drag queen, but I was relieved to see that yes, it was just a banana.)

We roamed around a little bit and, rounding a corner, were just in time to see a naked man getting pelted with flour. I steered him out of there after that.

We passed by that floor again on the way out, and instead of continuing down the stairwell, Chooch took off across the floor. I caught up with him just as he was coming back out of the room with the projector screens.

“I just wanted to see if she was still eating the banana,” Chooch casually explained. “She is.”

I asked him later what his favorite part was, and of course it was that. I thought for sure it would have been the piss painting (what? that’s always been my favorite!).

There was so much more I wanted to see, but Chooch blew through those floors like your average Kansas tornado. Oh well, I still have a year to go back as much as I want, with or without Chooch. (And definitely without Henry.)

  6 Responses to “The Wore Hall with Corey”

  1. Hahaha I can totally picture Choochs antics! I bet that place was sensory overload for him.

    I know exactly the kind of parents you’re talking about — the ones who expect everyone else to watch their kids while they fuck off?

    • Yeah, we used to hang out with these people who were awful at keeping an eye on their kids when we’d go out. Literally would just walk away from them at the fair to look at sunglasses. A+ parenting.

  2. Fuck those hipaters… they are jealous that Chooch dresses better than them. I want to see this banana lady!

    You guys are so fun and I am jealous of your membership and your awesomeness :)

  3. Lol I hated those lame hipster workers. I pretty much felt constant eyes on me in each room with them. Probably because I was really shifty-eyed trying to take pictures. ESPECIALLY the one in the big, open room on the top floor. Henry said he saw one approaching me to probably call me out on sneaking a picture with my phone, but then she saw Riley doing something and started a light jog in his direction. All in all, I’d say he was being really well behaved for a 6 year old in an art gallery. And I still want to take him to the natural history museum someday!

  4. I hate hipsters. They try to ruin everything with their stupid glasses and horribly greasy hair. This museum seems cool though! I like off-the-wall art places like this.

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