Dim Sum Diaries
So what happens when you walk into an swanky art gallery one day and pretend to be someone your not, exactly? Trouble, my friend, trouble.

A few months ago, I walk in to aforementioned art gallery in cazh clothes (jeans and t-shirt). I really like this one painting by this Chinese artist and inquire as to the price. Upon finding out that it is slightly out of my price range, I ask if there are prints available. Art Gallery Chickie eyes my clothes and says rather brusquely, "We don't sell prints here." That question was my kiss of death, because after that I was ignored, if you know what I mean. That was a Friday.

The next day, I happened to be shopping in the area again. I went to the gallery, this time dressed in shorts and and a t-shirt. For some reason, Art Gallery Chickie didn't recognize me. This time instead of asking about prints, I asked if they had a catalogue of the artist's work. I must have sounded like I knew what I was talking about this time...I had to resist the temptation to throw in a few art terms to sound knowledgeable (Did you know that chiaroscuro is the new black?). Either they were desperate for a sale or I looked like I was a shabbily-chic dressed rich person. I pored through the catalog and told the lady that I liked one piece in particular.

"Oh sorry, I think that one is sold already," she said. "Would you like a Pellegrino?"

No problem, its not like I was really looking to buy. I just like sales people kissing my ass, but I politely declined the Pellegrino. So that was awhile ago. So then TODAY, Ms. Art Gallery Chickie calls me. "You know that piece that you liked? I found out that the artist still has it. Would you like me to have him ship it to the gallery?" she asked me.

Panic ensued. "Um...erm...um...what's his asking price?" I hedged.

She named a sum that had my eyes bulging.

"Um...let me talk to my husband and call you back before you have him ship it..." I said.

"Sure," she said cheerily.

Note to self: What the hell were you thinking???