I'm really glad it's Monday. I've just come off of four days of watching my husband screaming, cursing and loving the television set. I really thought about checking in to a nearby hotel so I could hear myself think. Unfortunately, I decided against it because part of my marriage vows include feeding the crazed man and making sure he showers at least once.

In case you are oblivious to where all the men in America were these last few days, they were probably hysterical watching March Madness games.

Between switching ESPN channels, watching two games simultaneously on the television and on the computer, checking bracket standings and calculating different point scenarios that would give my husband first place in his pool, it's been quite a weekend. I am safe now, until next Friday when it begins anew.

Now that I've gotten that off of my chest, on to today's post.

I’m not squeamish about nudity. It doesn’t bother me to see uncovered flesh. Heck, usually, the more naked someone is, the more of a party it becomes. But I do tend to get peeved by so-called “art” that attempts to “push the boundaries” of what art truly is by using naked people.

The newest exhibit at the MOMA is causing me to squirm in my boy shorts—and I’m not alone. Two nude performers stand just inches apart in a narrow doorway of an exhibit of a work by Marina Abramovic which opened on Sunday. That's her in the photo here!

Some people just refuse to get this “brush with live flesh.” Morgan Wolfe, an18-year-old visitor to the museum decided that he just couldn’t walk between the two male models. He told the New York Post that it “bothers [him] a bit.”

Once you get through these nudie guards, you get accosted by more flesh. There is a nude performer lying under a skeleton and a naked woman on a bicycle set.

The artist, Abramovic, sounds like a little bit of a masochistic drama queen. In past exhibits she invited audience members to cause her physical pain with one of 72 objects including a gun, a whip, knives and scissors.