double gush bust (NSFW)

WARNING: This entry contains links to pictures that, unless you work for Larry Flynt, may not be suitable for work. Don't worry, I'm not going to spring Tubgirl or anything on you, but you still don't want to get caught looking at these on your company's dime. Originally I had the actual pictures in my entry, but Photobucket took umbrage at their sauciness.

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Takashi Murakami is a Japanese artist best known in America for the limited edition Louis Vuitton purses he designed; he also did the cover of Kanye West's latest album. I'm a longtime fan of his cute yet mildly disturbing style, as seen here:





So when I read that MOCA was going to be hosting an exhibit of his work, I knew I had to see it. As a bonus, MOCA is located smack dab in the middle of Little Tokyo, which meant I could also stock up on magazines, stationery, and junk food. I asked G if we could go, and he readily agreed.

While we were driving to LA, I said, "Did you hear that the dude who plays Jin [from "Lost"] got popped for drunk driving?"

"Yeah, I did. I hope that doesn't mean he's going to get killed off on the show."

"Why would you say that?"

"Remember when Michelle Rodriguez and that other chick both got arrested for drunk driving, and then their characters got killed? Do you think maybe they found out their characters were going to kick the bucket, so they went out to celebrate and got busted?"

"That's an interesting thought."

G grinned. "I mean, which came first...the kickin' or the keg?"

I groaned and buried my face in my hands.

Once we got to Little Tokyo, we had lunch and then walked over to the museum.

"Oh my god," I said, stopping dead in my tracks. "Look at that freakin' line!"

"Wow," G said, surveying the 200+ people in front of us. "I think we're going to be here a while."

"I knew this would be a popular exhibit, but I didn't think there would be this many people here," I grumped, scooching over to stand in the shade.

We'd only been standing in line for about five minutes when two guys came over and offered us their member passes. "You won't have to pay anything, and you get to go right in," one of them said.

"Holy crap, thanks!" I said, eagerly taking the admission stickers. But once they were out of earshot, I said, "Wait...let me go in and check with an employee first to make sure this thing is legit. I would hate to lose our place in line because someone was playing a trick on us."

Don't you love how I assume the best about everyone?

But no, we hadn't been punked. I don't know why they picked us out of such a huge line; G was wearing a Giants shirt and I was rocking my Alessa Gillespie shirt, so maybe they were Giants and/or Silent Hill fans. I know not, but I was damn grateful as we breezed past the unwashed masses and into the museum.

Um...

Okay, you saw that picture up there, right? Cute, colorful, perhaps a tad sinister with the eyeball wallpaper. Certainly an artist that kids would enjoy, and there were plenty of them in attendance. So you can imagine our shock when this was the very first thing we saw.

Yes, that chick is making a JUMP ROPE out of the milk gushing from her grotesquely huge breasts.

But wait! There was more!

Not to be outdone by his compatriot, Japan's answer to Peter North is fashioning a lasso out of his own jizz.

Modern art freakin' RULES!