Sunday, May 29, 2005
I am supposed to be at the pool right now working on my tan but today has turned into a shitty Sunday and unfortunately tomorrow is going to be an even shittier Monday. And so I am here listening to Marilyn Manson - you know, the perfect music for the Sabbath - screwing around with some of my most recent pictures. There has been no organized shoot or expedition since Sloss and I am itching to escape. Now that my partner in crime is back from gallivanting all over this god forsaken ball of mud perhaps I will be able to cajole him into a day trip. Until then, here are the photos that I have been working on today.
~ No photographer's collection would be complete without the ubiquitous shot of the nasty bar toilet.
~ Even though I HATE using a flash I'm going to have to learn how to achieve the results that would have made this photo much better.
~ Even though this picture is dark, grainy and blurry, I happen to be very fond of it. Mo, Herman and Pat.
~ And this is Steve...
~ No photographer's collection would be complete without the ubiquitous shot of the nasty bar toilet.
~ Even though I HATE using a flash I'm going to have to learn how to achieve the results that would have made this photo much better.
~ Even though this picture is dark, grainy and blurry, I happen to be very fond of it. Mo, Herman and Pat.
~ And this is Steve...
Friday, May 27, 2005
Per Johnny K’s birthday request we spent last Saturday in the lounge of one of the most prominent seafood houses in Atlanta to watch our favorite jazz quartet. They have talent beyond talent and Kayla has the sort of voice that make the boys fall head over heals in love (just as Johnny K and the rest of the mens in our bunch have) and the girls feel just a tad bit inadequate. Not only are they a fabulous band they are fabulous people as we have forged friendships with them as well. I guess when you are singing jazz standards in an upscale restaurant your audience tends to be a little bit older and a lot more stuffy and when there is a party of ten that consist of some pretty out of hand people it raises the energy level to overflow. Kayla likes to stand on top of tables while singing New York New York and Steve is a smart-ass dishing out the witty banter between songs.
For a while now I have been trying to get them to learn a particular song and I think I have convinced them to do so. If I were ever in a movie, this is the song that would play while I walked down the dangerous city street with a torrential wave of attitude and sex appeal nipping at my stilettoed heels. You see, I like to pretend that in my past life I was a dangerous dame that was too hot to handle and too cold to kiss. That I wore pencil skirts and cardigans exclusively and kept a .22 strapped to my thigh. But what’s a girl who was born in the 70’s to do? I try not to sit around and lament over the disconnect I feel with the era in which I live but I have to believe that most people have the desire to go back and live a fascinating life during the time that they find the most alluring. Mine just happens to be not too terribly long ago.
For a while now I have been trying to get them to learn a particular song and I think I have convinced them to do so. If I were ever in a movie, this is the song that would play while I walked down the dangerous city street with a torrential wave of attitude and sex appeal nipping at my stilettoed heels. You see, I like to pretend that in my past life I was a dangerous dame that was too hot to handle and too cold to kiss. That I wore pencil skirts and cardigans exclusively and kept a .22 strapped to my thigh. But what’s a girl who was born in the 70’s to do? I try not to sit around and lament over the disconnect I feel with the era in which I live but I have to believe that most people have the desire to go back and live a fascinating life during the time that they find the most alluring. Mine just happens to be not too terribly long ago.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
You do your civic duty and try to alert the authorities when someone lands in your blog archives after doing an internet search* for, ten-year-old n*de girls getting f*cked, and for what? For the lady in the state of Ohio’s cybercrimes unit attempt to transfer you to the child abuse department because she doesn’t know what an IP address is and she doesn’t comprehend that a brick and mortar institution didn’t hurt anyone? For the company that provides my site counter to tell me to contact the ISP? For Yahoo (the search engine used for this particular inquiry) to forward me a copy of their privacy act and tell me that unless I have a court order or subpoena I am shit out of luck? No one seems to want to take the initiative to do anything and I have to believe that if you are searching for child porn then you are finding child porn because that is the beauty of the internet. If you want to learn how to build a bomb in under two hours, how to cook up a big ol batch of crystal meth or if you want to see small naked children getting things done to them that are hellishly wrong – just pull up your favorite search engine and poof! There is everything you will ever need to feed your sick and twisted brain. I understand that one person’s privacy is another person’s crime and in order for our civil liberties to be worth a damn some people are going to get away with murder or molestation. I guess I was a little naïve and even more idealistic to think that someone, somewhere would actually give a fuck.
*the result of the search was an archived month that happened to have each of the searched words but not in sequential order. The actual search words have been edited because I am already getting weirdo search referrals and since no one will do a goddamn thing, ignorance is going to have to suffice as bliss.
*the result of the search was an archived month that happened to have each of the searched words but not in sequential order. The actual search words have been edited because I am already getting weirdo search referrals and since no one will do a goddamn thing, ignorance is going to have to suffice as bliss.
Monday, May 23, 2005
Rolling into my thirties I can honestly say that I didn’t have any of the anxieties that a woman typically has about turning the landmark age. I was actually kind of excited because I not only didn’t feel thirty, but I certainly didn’t look like a woman who had just turned that god forsaken age. I was not only still being carded for cigarettes but a look of shock and awe was something I could always count on when a cashier realized that I could actually get in the pool during adult swim. In the back of my mind I just always assumed that I was blessed with a youthful complexion and I figured that I had many more years until I had to start considering things such as skin care products with phrases like, "Recovery Complex" and, "Anti-Aging Formula" in the title.
The short if it is, I am beginning to feel the pains of aging and I am more than a little pissed about the entire thing. And I swear to god if I see one more eye roll or hear one more exasperated, "you look fine Douleur" I am going get kung fu on someone’s ass because I don’t think I look fine and when I say that I am grieving over the slow death of my body I seriously fucking mean it.
There is nothing like mourning your good looks at the ripe old age of thirty-one especially when you so ignorantly thought you could dodge the entire process of aging longer than most. I can already tell that this is going to be a long and arduous war with little to no understanding from the people that matter most. My younger (female) friends just can't appreciate my position and my husband thinks I am ridiculous and sad. Regardless of how anyone perceives this gripe the fact of the matter is, the lines are getting deeper, the skin just fucking sucks and the thought of having to work out an hour and a half a day, four days a week JUST to maintain makes me want to vomit and cry. I don’t expect a single one of you to recognize what I am going through as a viable complaint. To be vain is to be shallow and god forbid anyone actually admit that something so trivial as their looks be important to them.
The short if it is, I am beginning to feel the pains of aging and I am more than a little pissed about the entire thing. And I swear to god if I see one more eye roll or hear one more exasperated, "you look fine Douleur" I am going get kung fu on someone’s ass because I don’t think I look fine and when I say that I am grieving over the slow death of my body I seriously fucking mean it.
There is nothing like mourning your good looks at the ripe old age of thirty-one especially when you so ignorantly thought you could dodge the entire process of aging longer than most. I can already tell that this is going to be a long and arduous war with little to no understanding from the people that matter most. My younger (female) friends just can't appreciate my position and my husband thinks I am ridiculous and sad. Regardless of how anyone perceives this gripe the fact of the matter is, the lines are getting deeper, the skin just fucking sucks and the thought of having to work out an hour and a half a day, four days a week JUST to maintain makes me want to vomit and cry. I don’t expect a single one of you to recognize what I am going through as a viable complaint. To be vain is to be shallow and god forbid anyone actually admit that something so trivial as their looks be important to them.
Monday, May 02, 2005
There's not a whole lot I can say about Saturday other than DAMN! A friend wanted to celebrate her birthday in the presence of booty shakin, pole climbing, naked women so we popped Nik’s never before been to a nudie bar, cherry and took her to her very first "gentleman’s club". I am sure she was thinking to herself, "what the FUCK have I gotten myself into?" as her expression was priceless when we initially walked in. The rest of us girls were veteran hookers but Nik obviously didn’t know what to do with her eyes when we first arrived though it wasn’t long before we talked her into contributing to a dancer’s college/boob job fund. Looking back at us scared and bewildered, Nik pensively walked to the main stage. As the dancer sauntered up to our virgin friend, we yelled to her that it was her first time and she immediately took Nik’s head and shoved it between her tits and shook. Wearing boobies as earmuffs, Nik threw her hands in the air in a, "WHAT IN THE HELL DO I DO NOW?" gesture. When the dancer finally relented Nik stuffed a dollar bill in her garter and walked to her seat even more confused than before. We clapped and cheered as though we had witnessed the very first steps of our own beloved child and by the end of the evening Nik was stuffing dollars in her own cleavage making the dancers fetch them with their teeth. I won’t go into the dirty details of Nik’s first lap dance but suffice it to say it was hilarious to see her with a nipple on her cheek.
The natural progression of a woman’s comfort zone at a strip club is not only fascinating from a psychological standpoint but it’s tremendously entertaining as well.
And if you ever want a lap dance that rivals all lap dances, ask for Haley at Masters. She was fabulous fun when she was rubbing her tits in my face yelling that us girls were bad. But I don’t think she minded much as she didn’t protest when I wrapped my legs around her waist and we simulated an act that you aren’t supposed to simulate in those types of establishments. And DAMN when she had one of her legs propped up on Nik’s thigh pouring water down herself sexily rubbing it into her, ahem, torso. WHEW GODDAMN!!!
The natural progression of a woman’s comfort zone at a strip club is not only fascinating from a psychological standpoint but it’s tremendously entertaining as well.
And if you ever want a lap dance that rivals all lap dances, ask for Haley at Masters. She was fabulous fun when she was rubbing her tits in my face yelling that us girls were bad. But I don’t think she minded much as she didn’t protest when I wrapped my legs around her waist and we simulated an act that you aren’t supposed to simulate in those types of establishments. And DAMN when she had one of her legs propped up on Nik’s thigh pouring water down herself sexily rubbing it into her, ahem, torso. WHEW GODDAMN!!!
