Wednesday, January 26, 2005
~ On the way for sustenance in the form of a big ass burrito I notice a gaggle of firemen walking into the Subway I had just passed so of course I made an illegal u-turn and headed back for a sandwich. I have a weakness for men in big rubber boots and even bigger yellow pants so the change in my lunchtime plans was more of an obligation to myself rather than a sacrifice to my taste buds. As I walked in all five firemen stared at me as if I were a small brush fire on the side of the highway and I do believe they were getting their thrills just as I was getting mine. I toyed with the notion of feigning the international choking symbol in a desperate attempt for CPR but decided against it because, I suppose, of the whole marriage/fidelity thing. Damn me and my morals. Now that I am back in my office, eating a sub for the third day this week, I ask myself if the eye candy was worth it and I have to say, yes it most definitely was!
~ Thank all of you for the kind words regarding the launch of divineimagery. Hopefully I will have more content up soon. I have to figure out who is going to write my bio because I sure as shit am drawing a blank. If there are any takers just shoot me an email.
~ Thank all of you for the kind words regarding the launch of divineimagery. Hopefully I will have more content up soon. I have to figure out who is going to write my bio because I sure as shit am drawing a blank. If there are any takers just shoot me an email.
Monday, January 24, 2005
Holy shit on a stick. My site, or the beginnings thereof, has been officially launched.
I would like to thank the academy, my agent Phil, my mom and my dad, my dog Sugar - God rest her soul and all of my fans. Without YOU, none of this could have been possible.
Please let me know what you think of the layout and of the photographs I have chosen for the site. I am all about feedback - be it good or bad.
divineimagery.com
I would like to thank the academy, my agent Phil, my mom and my dad, my dog Sugar - God rest her soul and all of my fans. Without YOU, none of this could have been possible.
Please let me know what you think of the layout and of the photographs I have chosen for the site. I am all about feedback - be it good or bad.
divineimagery.com
~ I am hoping to have a gallery or two up this week. I have been working fervently trying to find the right mix of photographs that best represents my work and if I feel that if the fruits of my labor aren’t publicly displayed sooner than later, I may spontaneously combust. I am however finding it amusing to go through my earlier work and scoffing at what I used to think was half way decent. It’s almost like reading the angsty, my life is hideous and I want to DIE poetry we all wrote in high school, but I am also finding little treasures here and there so it’s not COMPLETELY humiliating. The site is no where near finished but if I can get my gallery up and running I think I will feel a bit more accomplished.
~ My baby turned nine Saturday. They grow up way too fast and one day you realize that all the shitty parenting you subjected him too – well, there’s just no going back. It’s a hard pill to swallow when you realize what you have been giving just isn’t enough and that your child deserves a million times more and a billion times better than what you’ve been providing. I mourn for all the time I’ve pissed away because I was just too damn selfish.
~ Valentines Day is such a crock of shit. And I disagree completely. There are better ways of saying, "I love you" than with a pink sapphire and diamond heart pendant set in fourteen carat yellow gold. Fella’s, your fucking chumps if you let your ladies guilt you into the bullshit that is Valentines Day.
~ My baby turned nine Saturday. They grow up way too fast and one day you realize that all the shitty parenting you subjected him too – well, there’s just no going back. It’s a hard pill to swallow when you realize what you have been giving just isn’t enough and that your child deserves a million times more and a billion times better than what you’ve been providing. I mourn for all the time I’ve pissed away because I was just too damn selfish.
~ Valentines Day is such a crock of shit. And I disagree completely. There are better ways of saying, "I love you" than with a pink sapphire and diamond heart pendant set in fourteen carat yellow gold. Fella’s, your fucking chumps if you let your ladies guilt you into the bullshit that is Valentines Day.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
In an effort to save myself from going absolutely fucking insane while recruiting for an admin assistant, I amused myself by making fun of how people chose to market their skills on their resume. It’s really quite pathetic that with the vast amount of instantaneous information at our fingertips, people still present shitty resumes when looking for a job. Please note that the skills listed below were copied directly from resumes I have received during the past four days. And yes I realize that karma is a bitch and now I am not going to be able to find myself a new job because of this.
~ Provide hardware and point of sale support to all stores (Home Depot)
What that really means: I walked real fast with a box of finishing nails in my hand pretending to be helping other people my entire four hour shift
~ Liaison with building management
What that really means: I called the plumber when the shitter got backed up
~ Using established procedures and operating communications equipment
What that really means: I answered the fucking phones
~ Operated a two-way, 800 MHZ Trunk Radio system
What that really means: We played Smokey and the Bandit when no one was looking
~ Transmitting and receiving messages from Ranger Station Console to hand held radio units out in the field (see above)
What that really means: I have no idea what “redundancy” means
~ Established solid, positive, and productive work environment-by understanding the role and the needs of all team member
What that means: I boned my entire staff AND the copy repairman.
~ Increased number of Voice & Internet Accounts and strategies by streamlining the in-house process and raising level of expectation in customer-provided information
What that really means: I am slathered up to my eyeballs in bullshit and if you were to ask me what that meant I wouldn’t be able to tell you
~ Conducted an in-depth market research analysis on major competitors to formulate future offline and online marketing plans. Explored new and creative ways to capitalize on marketing efforts
What that really means: I spent my entire day surfing the internet for porn
~ Effective developing and managing a sales pipeline and maintaining strong customer base
What that means is: I am the guy that hounds you every fucking night so that I might talk you into a free in home estimate or a mortgage re-fi
~ Acquired cash control and customer relations skills by computing sales on a cash register and receiving money (gas station)
What that really means: I rang your shit up and prayed I wouldn’t get shot
~ Initiated telephone contact with delinquent members to secure membership payments
What that really means: I threatened you with loss of limb and made you cry if you were late paying your credit card bill
~ Operated high volume duplicating equipment
What that really means: I swear I only made copies of my boobs a coupla times.
~ Snack Bar / Lounge Customer Service (bowling alley)
What that really means: I schlepped beer to fat smelly men
~ Sensitive to the needs and concerns of the customers (bowling alley – see above)
What that really means: I didn’t vomit on the fat smelly men that patted my ass or told me how hot I was.
~ Monitoring shrinkage
What that really means: I just thought this was funny in an, I’m twelve years old and you said shrinkage sort of way
~ Provide hardware and point of sale support to all stores (Home Depot)
What that really means: I walked real fast with a box of finishing nails in my hand pretending to be helping other people my entire four hour shift
~ Liaison with building management
What that really means: I called the plumber when the shitter got backed up
~ Using established procedures and operating communications equipment
What that really means: I answered the fucking phones
~ Operated a two-way, 800 MHZ Trunk Radio system
What that really means: We played Smokey and the Bandit when no one was looking
~ Transmitting and receiving messages from Ranger Station Console to hand held radio units out in the field (see above)
What that really means: I have no idea what “redundancy” means
~ Established solid, positive, and productive work environment-by understanding the role and the needs of all team member
What that means: I boned my entire staff AND the copy repairman.
~ Increased number of Voice & Internet Accounts and strategies by streamlining the in-house process and raising level of expectation in customer-provided information
What that really means: I am slathered up to my eyeballs in bullshit and if you were to ask me what that meant I wouldn’t be able to tell you
~ Conducted an in-depth market research analysis on major competitors to formulate future offline and online marketing plans. Explored new and creative ways to capitalize on marketing efforts
What that really means: I spent my entire day surfing the internet for porn
~ Effective developing and managing a sales pipeline and maintaining strong customer base
What that means is: I am the guy that hounds you every fucking night so that I might talk you into a free in home estimate or a mortgage re-fi
~ Acquired cash control and customer relations skills by computing sales on a cash register and receiving money (gas station)
What that really means: I rang your shit up and prayed I wouldn’t get shot
~ Initiated telephone contact with delinquent members to secure membership payments
What that really means: I threatened you with loss of limb and made you cry if you were late paying your credit card bill
~ Operated high volume duplicating equipment
What that really means: I swear I only made copies of my boobs a coupla times.
~ Snack Bar / Lounge Customer Service (bowling alley)
What that really means: I schlepped beer to fat smelly men
~ Sensitive to the needs and concerns of the customers (bowling alley – see above)
What that really means: I didn’t vomit on the fat smelly men that patted my ass or told me how hot I was.
~ Monitoring shrinkage
What that really means: I just thought this was funny in an, I’m twelve years old and you said shrinkage sort of way
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
~ I tell myself that I must get involved. That if I want to take my photography to the next level I must immerse myself into the Atlanta photographic community but then I look at the websites, read the “About Us” sections and view the online galleries and competition winners and scowl at the idea. I ask myself if it is coincidence that the winners of the competitions are typically the same people that sit on the board and if the meetings are nothing more than political ass kissing sessions for desperate artists. So of course this turns me off to the whole notion of going to meetings and critiques, not to mention the other 101 reasons I make up on an hourly basis.
Let me premise this by saying that I understand that I am a difficult woman to please. Artistically it takes a hell of a lot to make my innards swoon with envy and regret and all those other emotions that makes me want to chuck it all and pack my bags in search of the next cover of National Geographic. That being said, the majority the portfolios I have found within these organizations are shit and I sit with a sour look on my face and wonder if this is a true representation of their best work. So naturally I wonder if my gallery will solicit the same emotions that taking a shit provokes and question whether or not I have the balls to expose my jugular to the bloated ego of a “professional” artist? Are the personal opinions of those from whom I seek guidance from skewed by their own insecurities? Will they be capable of guiding me in the direction I so want to be heading with good, honest intentions?
I realize that this is nothing more than my fear talking, a defense mechanism I am meticulously constructing so that when push comes to shove I will have an excuse for standing quietly in the corner.
~ I managed to rip a humongo hole in the crotch of my fishnets and it looks like I am wearing assless fishnet chaps underneath my pencil skirt. They are digging into my skin and I am uncomfortable and angry.
~ Those goddamn Lance Armstrong cancer bracelets are pissing me off. Everyone and their fucking uncle’s cousins are wearing them. Hey look at me. I think cancer is bad. No, really I do! SEE, I have proof! Bravo to you and your fucking philanthropy. I will save my opinions on Lance Armstrong and the cancer he so heroically beat for another day and a different post but I will say this. Steroids have been linked to testicular cancer people - you do the math.
Let me premise this by saying that I understand that I am a difficult woman to please. Artistically it takes a hell of a lot to make my innards swoon with envy and regret and all those other emotions that makes me want to chuck it all and pack my bags in search of the next cover of National Geographic. That being said, the majority the portfolios I have found within these organizations are shit and I sit with a sour look on my face and wonder if this is a true representation of their best work. So naturally I wonder if my gallery will solicit the same emotions that taking a shit provokes and question whether or not I have the balls to expose my jugular to the bloated ego of a “professional” artist? Are the personal opinions of those from whom I seek guidance from skewed by their own insecurities? Will they be capable of guiding me in the direction I so want to be heading with good, honest intentions?
I realize that this is nothing more than my fear talking, a defense mechanism I am meticulously constructing so that when push comes to shove I will have an excuse for standing quietly in the corner.
~ I managed to rip a humongo hole in the crotch of my fishnets and it looks like I am wearing assless fishnet chaps underneath my pencil skirt. They are digging into my skin and I am uncomfortable and angry.
~ Those goddamn Lance Armstrong cancer bracelets are pissing me off. Everyone and their fucking uncle’s cousins are wearing them. Hey look at me. I think cancer is bad. No, really I do! SEE, I have proof! Bravo to you and your fucking philanthropy. I will save my opinions on Lance Armstrong and the cancer he so heroically beat for another day and a different post but I will say this. Steroids have been linked to testicular cancer people - you do the math.
Thursday, January 06, 2005
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
The older I get the faster the years disintegrate in a flurry of what if’s and should have’s.
Sunday I de-christmasized the house and watched the tail end of Lost In Translation. I had a hard time deciding whether or not it was a healthy film to watch on day two of a new year when one is analyzing life and contemplating what to do with the future. On one hand it could be a motivating reminder of a time you never want to repeat, on the other it could be a stab in the heart and a harsh recollection of a place you would rather never re-visit. For me it’s a little of both but the point of this post is NOT to drudge up the thousand and one woe’s I have experienced since 2005 has commenced. It is the woe we all experience when we are given the chance to start over and do the things we have failed to do. The things we PROMISED ourselves we would accomplish but were replaced by responsibility, (imposed) priorities and laziness. We are creatures of habit and thrive from the instant gratification procrastination lends us and only during death, and new years are we reminded of that.
New Years Eve was fun and I drank myself into harlotry so that I could provide the evening’s entertainment. Part of my shenanigans were captured on Johnny K’s new digital video camera and I cursed myself for actually thinking that would be a swell Christmas gift. I think the surprise of the evening was when I managed to stay upright and untangled while putting on the strap on in an effort to get the party goers to suck my cock. By that point I had drank over half a bottle of Petron’ Café on an empty belly so the act of standing was challenging let alone negotiating the straps of an insta-dick. The evening ended after a drunken bath, a phone call to Johnny K’s cell to bring me water in bed and a plea for hashbrowns when he brought me the water. It was only one a.m. at this point – boy was I a mess.
The blow up doll was found in a wadded heap on the bed in the guest room. I certainly hope the little one didn’t find it and wonder why his pool toy has boobies.
Sunday I de-christmasized the house and watched the tail end of Lost In Translation. I had a hard time deciding whether or not it was a healthy film to watch on day two of a new year when one is analyzing life and contemplating what to do with the future. On one hand it could be a motivating reminder of a time you never want to repeat, on the other it could be a stab in the heart and a harsh recollection of a place you would rather never re-visit. For me it’s a little of both but the point of this post is NOT to drudge up the thousand and one woe’s I have experienced since 2005 has commenced. It is the woe we all experience when we are given the chance to start over and do the things we have failed to do. The things we PROMISED ourselves we would accomplish but were replaced by responsibility, (imposed) priorities and laziness. We are creatures of habit and thrive from the instant gratification procrastination lends us and only during death, and new years are we reminded of that.
New Years Eve was fun and I drank myself into harlotry so that I could provide the evening’s entertainment. Part of my shenanigans were captured on Johnny K’s new digital video camera and I cursed myself for actually thinking that would be a swell Christmas gift. I think the surprise of the evening was when I managed to stay upright and untangled while putting on the strap on in an effort to get the party goers to suck my cock. By that point I had drank over half a bottle of Petron’ Café on an empty belly so the act of standing was challenging let alone negotiating the straps of an insta-dick. The evening ended after a drunken bath, a phone call to Johnny K’s cell to bring me water in bed and a plea for hashbrowns when he brought me the water. It was only one a.m. at this point – boy was I a mess.
The blow up doll was found in a wadded heap on the bed in the guest room. I certainly hope the little one didn’t find it and wonder why his pool toy has boobies.
