Today I went through an entire box of Kleenex while battling a particularly aggressive cold during a six-hour stretch of work. Thanks to nearly non-stop sneezing and nose-blowing that has rendered my nose and upper lip raw and puffy, I look like the love child of W.C. Fields and a trout.
Labels: humiliating photographs
Uh-oh. French New Wave cat cinema is making a comeback. I know I should be ashamed, but the amount of laughter I get from this ridiculous endeavor is well worth the ten minutes it took to create this.
Labels: humiliating photographs, kitty time is a special time, milo, video
Well, this is just great. Last night during Self-Pitying Insomniafest 2009, I was organizing files when I noticed that two pictures on my Flickr stream were getting a lot of visitors. Both of them were of me in my cast. I looked at the referrers, and one was from a forum where people who are in casts can swap tips and experiences. "Oh, that's nice," I thought. "I'm sure they are just getting a kick out of the photo of me grinning maniacally while holding knives like a slasher." (You think I'm joking, but I'm not. It is a very clever and not at all ridiculous concept shot. I suffer for my art!)
I finally found sleep. I dreamed that Minou's photo was on the Flickr blog, giving ol' Mr. Tubbs the confidence boost that Milo had enjoyed during his moment of Flickr celebrity. In the dream, I thought, "Check the referrers!"
So this morning, after doing the normal wake-up things (stare out window, scan floor for hairballs), I saw that the views on the broken-me photos had jumped another 200 or so each overnight. That was odd; do that many people want to discuss their broken limbs? So I looked at the referrers again, and there was another site. I followed the link, and it's a forum for people whose fetishes are casts and crutches. Of course. Somewhere, there is a greasy German guy pleasuring himself to a photo of me on my crutches. Wunderbar! I'd let my leg hair grow in like a thick rug just to deglamorize the cast, but somewhere there is another forum for leg-hair fetishists anyway.
(The photos are now private, but who am I kidding? They've already been saved to hard drives. Ugh.)
I finally found sleep. I dreamed that Minou's photo was on the Flickr blog, giving ol' Mr. Tubbs the confidence boost that Milo had enjoyed during his moment of Flickr celebrity. In the dream, I thought, "Check the referrers!"
So this morning, after doing the normal wake-up things (stare out window, scan floor for hairballs), I saw that the views on the broken-me photos had jumped another 200 or so each overnight. That was odd; do that many people want to discuss their broken limbs? So I looked at the referrers again, and there was another site. I followed the link, and it's a forum for people whose fetishes are casts and crutches. Of course. Somewhere, there is a greasy German guy pleasuring himself to a photo of me on my crutches. Wunderbar! I'd let my leg hair grow in like a thick rug just to deglamorize the cast, but somewhere there is another forum for leg-hair fetishists anyway.
(The photos are now private, but who am I kidding? They've already been saved to hard drives. Ugh.)
Labels: crabbiness, humiliating photographs, i can't walk
Since leaving Chicago, one of the things I've missed—along with a decent brunch—is the talent of my hair stylist, Mitch, who works at Michael & Michael. He's great, he doesn't charge an arm and a leg, and he just knows how to read my style. Plus, he moved into an apartment across the street from me right before I left, and we were beginning to be buddies.
I have now gone to two of the fancy, written-up-in-Allure salons here, and, well, I think I may become one of those annoying people who winds up only getting haircuts when in New York. In October, I had a fantastic trim from Mordechai Alvow at Pashah. It looked great the day of the cut, and it grew out beautifully. Today, though, I realized that I was getting a bit mullety, so I made an appointment at Fancy Salon Place.
As you can see, it's not a bad cut per se. It's just not the most astounding one, you know? I think that when you spend three digits on a haircut—something I do not enjoy doing, and have never done before—it should make you feel like you have shampoo-commercial hair.
I have now gone to two of the fancy, written-up-in-Allure salons here, and, well, I think I may become one of those annoying people who winds up only getting haircuts when in New York. In October, I had a fantastic trim from Mordechai Alvow at Pashah. It looked great the day of the cut, and it grew out beautifully. Today, though, I realized that I was getting a bit mullety, so I made an appointment at Fancy Salon Place.
As you can see, it's not a bad cut per se. It's just not the most astounding one, you know? I think that when you spend three digits on a haircut—something I do not enjoy doing, and have never done before—it should make you feel like you have shampoo-commercial hair.
Labels: humiliating photographs, vanity, weird obsession with finding perfect haircut
Kismet! I was thinking of Jesse tonight, and out of the blue he sent me a text message from his band's tour in Florida. He said he was a little stressed, so I decided to make a quick-and-dirty web project for him. I used to do these frequently for friends, and though they are usually pretty slapdash, they have a certain (cretin?) charm to them. In college, I made a great online comic for Evan; called "Horace, The Poorly Drawn Cat in LSAT MADNESS," it is sadly lost to a crashed hard drive. I also remember making a birthday website for Ben (it featured margarine advertisements) as well as countless, similarly idiotic specials.
On a coding level as well as one of maturity, I have not progressed in more than 10 years.
When Jesse mentioned his stress levels, I thought, "I know! What he needs is a website! One to make him guffaw!" So I got to work, photographing a too-elaborate narrative to make him laugh. And here is an excerpt. I am bizarrely pleased by it, yet juuuuuust tired enough tonight that I think it's a good idea to share it, and I will probably come to my senses and remove the link tomorrow morning. Until then...
On a coding level as well as one of maturity, I have not progressed in more than 10 years.
When Jesse mentioned his stress levels, I thought, "I know! What he needs is a website! One to make him guffaw!" So I got to work, photographing a too-elaborate narrative to make him laugh. And here is an excerpt. I am bizarrely pleased by it, yet juuuuuust tired enough tonight that I think it's a good idea to share it, and I will probably come to my senses and remove the link tomorrow morning. Until then...
Labels: humiliating photographs, jesse
