Crazy, Kinda Like Patrick

So I used to blog about my sex life a little bit on here, but it started getting me in trouble so I backed off.  I decided talking about that was not worth the grief.  However, since I will never see this girl again, and since I did the responsible thing in the end, I will tell you a tale.  Please skip to the final paragraph if you do not want to read this reasonably misogynistic story.

So last night (Tuesday) I had one of the best dates of my life and maybe for a few minutes on the way home I contemplated what life would be like not single.  I thought that I was going to get to see her again tonight (Wednesday) but I had no such luck.  I was just going to go home and work on this website, but I heard LA Riots were going to be at Arlo and Esme so I decided to take a few photos.  Around three I am getting ready to leave when I get a text from my friend Shwazye who is in town promoting his new record.  I meet him over at Beatrice around 3:30.  After looking around for a bit, I realize that I don’t know anyone there.  I never go to Beatrice because they won’t let you take photos in there, and I don’t really see a reason to go out if I can’t take photos.  Anyway, I was trying to talk to Shwazye but he seemed busy with this insanely hot light skinned black girl.  I let him be and started dancing a bit.  Moments later he sort of points this girl at me and she just starts dancing with me.  She kisses me almost at once without saying a word.  For a second I am convinced that she is a prostitute or something.  She had the biggest softest lips I had ever seen.  She kept trying to get me to grind my crotch on to her.  She kept bending over and I didn’t really know what to do.  She was pretty much nothing but tits and ass and I sort of wanted to do horrible things to her, but I was sort of bewildered to what the hell was going on.  I asked her if she was okay and she just said “I am fucked up.”  She sat down and pulled me on top of her.  Her scrap of a dress kept riding up and she was spreading her legs and just sort of rubbing herself.  These people next to us were so confused, and I just looked at them like “What the hell is going on?” I turn to Shwazye who meanwhile is with his own lady friend, and he just starts laughing and tells her to suck my dick.  She snaps back “I don’t do that!” and then proceeds to rub her giant boobs all over my face while I am laughing.  Her boobs kept coming out of her dress but at this point no one is looking.  It is when she sits in my lap and spreads her legs and puts them over my shoulder and starts clamping her legs around my head that people start looking.  She is just smacking me in the head with her thighs and pretty much everyone in the place is staring at us, and I am just looking at them bewildered.  At this point she hasn’t even told me her name despite my attempts at finding out.  Everyone just starts clapping and hooting.  She asks me to take her home with me.  I told her that despite how insanely hot she was, that she was far too drunk for me to take her home.  I needed to get out of there though.  Shwazye was leaving so I tried to go, but she could barely stand and I couldn’t figure out who she was with so I helped her down the stairs and into the street.  She kept wanting to smoke weed with me, but I told her I didn’t smoke.  She sort of started crying a little bit and the she would start laughing.  I eventually got her a cab and when I put her inside she just kept telling me that she loved me.  I sort of think I loved her too.  I gave her my card and told her “If you remember any of this, call me one day.” and I walked away.  I still don’t know her name. Shwayze took some pictures, maybe I will share them one day.

Okay, now that yarn has been woven, let’s get into some site news.  As you may have noticed, updates have been scant, but that does not mean I have not been working.  I have been working on this video project with DayRobber and we are just about done with three pilot episodes that we are going to be pitching to advertisers.  If someone signs on, then these videos are going to go live once a week or something.  I have spent the last three days getting more videos for the next batch of episodes.  So if you see me out this week, tell me an amazing story on camera and maybe you will make the cut.  I have some updates in the works, like the photos from tonight and some Krames press shots that were never published.  Nothing too exciting, but fuck, I am busy.  Hire me for something so I can quit my day job.  Also, I might be looking for a roommate starting in October, but I probably don’t want it to be you.  Lastly, this video is amazing, I have been wanting a reason to post it, so thanks to this contentless update, it is yours.

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dMZfdCkYPig[/youtube]

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Make Your Own Apple Spanking Paddle

After receiving a few emails/comments about my IGOR/Skull Paddle I decided I should teach everyone how to make their own. For my test project I chose an Apple Logo and a Power Button. I thought that was nice and geeky and all the internets would get a kick out of it. So if you want to see how to make your own custom ass smacking paddle, click here!

Why is it that I am so brilliant again?

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Giraffeman!

I dreamed over and over again that when Giraffe’s were born they were almost humans and then as they got older their necks get longer and they slowly become giraffes.  But when they are first born you can teach them english and hang out with them and stuff.  In the dream I knew this was not the case and I kept waking up realizing that this was not true, but then I would go back to sleep and people would assure me that this was true and kept introducing me to giraffemen who I would talk to.  Once they became giraffes they lost the ability to speak.  After broing down with one of these giraffes it made me not want to kill animals for food, which I was really pissed off about because of how much I like meat.  Luckily when I woke up, it was early in the morning and McDonalds was still serving breakfast so I got acouple bacon egg and cheese biscuits and a sausage McGriddle and everything was okay.

So here is actual proof that when giraffe’s are born they don’t look like people.  They mostly just look like a mixture of baby Alien’s mixed with regular giraffes.  Still, pretty spooky.

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFcFqjEp9co[/youtube]

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Meet The Half-Stache

As the trendsetter/ early adapter that I am I have to let you guys know that the newest trend to hit the streets is the “Half-Stache”. The raw power of this ‘stache is so intense that not once but twice yesterday did beautiful women interrupt my fried chicken dinner to discuss my brilliant and brave facial hair choice with me last night. I am so sure of this new trends amazing power that I will make this promise. Anyone who rocks a respectable Half-Stache for 7 full days and sends me some sort of photographic proof, I will send you a DBB t-shirt whenever I get around to finally getting them printed. It will be sweet. I am not sure what the over/under is for how long I keep this, but please, but amongst yourselves.

Second small thing of note, although much less important, you may have come here looking for some photos from Byte on Sunday, Happy Endings on Tuesday or High Voltage last night and you have found nothing. This is because I am suffering from what might be known as exhaustion. I wake up at 1pm everyday, leave work at 2, get home from work at midnight, go out and shoot, get home at 5, work on this website until 8am and then start over. This is killing me. I did not get any sleep last night due to a friend taking mushrooms and not being able to make it home due to the fact that she thought she was in Tokyo and that all the taxi cabs had become alligators. Long story short is that after this weekend I am taking a week break from party photos except for the Jump party that I agreed to shoot weeks ago (more on that later). The photos from the aforementioned parties will be up tomorrow or Saturday. See you then.

Long live the Half-Stache!

UPDATE: Read the comments section of this post for the Half-Stache controversy!

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Hair Metal Dress Up Party

Editors note: I am not sure how this became a 10,000 word essay on mundane details of a moderately eventful random night of my life, but yet it is what it is.  I am not sure it is in your best interest to read the whole thing, but there are some pretty funny photos at the bottom….  

The other night was completely out of hand.  Bars were closing and I had just driven into the city from Brooklyn where I had been shooting the Trashy Trashed party or whatever it was called.  I went to meet with a friend of mine at Max Fish.  While waiting in line to put my stickers in the bathroom she was making fun of this guy who always rides the mechanical horse.  She also happened to be sitting on said horse.  This is one of those horses you see outside of Supermarkets and ACME brand type Wallmart type stores and such places like that.  I feel like there are several of them outside of bodegas on Ave A.  Anyway, she is sitting on this horse so I put in a quarter when she was not looking.  Suddenly she goes from talking shit to smiling and seems to be enjoying said horse greatly.  I decided that I had to try it, but I was out of quarters so I sat on the tail.  And while the pain on this tail mashing itself into my coccyx was not exactly pleasant, I did come to the conclusion that riding one of these horses is far more satisfying that it looks.  This is a very important realization in my life.  I recommend it to everyone.

Moments later I was standing out front when a drunken man on a skateboard did a face plant into the concrete.  No one really knew what to do.  He was just laying on the ground motionless.  I thought he would be missing teeth or something.  People sort of tried to roll him over, and someone went inside to get help.  I was the closest person to him and I just sort of stood there.  There was this girl who I saw taking bad “street photography” photos outside the bar.  She at once started photographing him. Some other people took this as a cue to pull out their cameras.  Now while this is the sort of thing that I might normally find appealing to photograph, but realisticly I was actually more concerned for this man’s well being than I was taking photos.  When he stood up, I pulled out my camera to get a shot of his blood soaked face when I realized that he was just going to walk away without getting help.  I tried to explain to him that he had been unconscious for several minutes and he should just sit down.  He angrily informed me never to talk to him like that again.  His friends then came out, I told them what happened and left.  I think that if when he passed out there would have been missing teeth or a lot more blood I would have taken some shots, but really it just looked like he was drunk and passed out on the sidewalk.  Pretty boring photos probably, and I am not going to wallow in someone’s misery for mediocre shots.

After that I got in touch with my friend Jessica who was having a “Metal Party” at her house.  I asked who was there and she said “Oh, just Alexander and I.”  When I showed up, her friend Skipper was there too, and they were teasing their hair and applying more hair spray than should normally be sprayed in lifetime.  Jessica told me she was trying to look as much like Nikki Sixx as possible.  I found out she had just woken up and decided just to stay in and play dress up.  When I got there it was nearly 5AM and it was light outside by the time they finished getting ready.  Alexander was already dressed supremely metal, but then again, he pretty much dresses like that every day, although this night he was missing his normal top hat.  I wanted to fit in, so I shaved my awful facial hair into a Lemmy-eque handle bar mustache that I put mascara on so it would look less like a prepubescent pedophile working a taco stand.  Skipper decided to fill in my eyebrows too.  At some point they drew an upside down cross on my head, but it was about 175 degrees in Jessica’s apartment and it quickly sweated off.    We then took a lot of pictures.

The important thing to note about this is that we were listening to hair metal the entire time.  They had made a mix.  All these kids are like 5 years younger than me I think… at least Jess is, and it was strangely surprising to me that she had Great White on the play list and stuff.  Like, admittedly Hooked was one of my favorite albums in 1990, but I was 10 and Nirvana had not yet entered my consciousness yet… I am positive that Jess was not a big Great White fan in 1990, but you never know.  I just think it is weird that someone would ever come back to some of these ridiculous metal bands post-Nirvana and be pretty much obsessed with that music.  I mean I was obsessed with it, but I didn’t know any better.  All I listened to before I heard Smells Like Teen Spirt was rap and hair metal.  It was either that or New Kids On The Block, and at least I knew better than that.

Anyway, I knew every single lyric to every song they were playing that night and at one point I started randomly whistling the first few notes of “Wind Of Change” by the Scorpions and the second I finished the bar, that song shuffled on.  It was so insane.  Of the 200 songs on the playlist (which I had never heard) it was a pretty bewildering chance that song would be next (even if I had known it was on the list, which I didn’t).  I cannot possibly explain how amazing this was.  I was sort of flipping out about it all night.  No one else really cared, as I am sure you do not care about it now.  Still, it was one of the most amazing things that has happened to me this calendar year.

After we were done taking photos we decided to get food.  We all looked like lunatics, but I was quite okay with this.  Jessica was not.  She kept apologizing to everyone on the street for our weird looks.  Alex was mildly annoyed by this as he was dressed like he always dresses.  I just didn’t really see the point in acting a fool if you are going to apologize for it.  So as soon as I had ordered my clam chowder and key lime pie Jess decided we were going to a party in Brooklyn.  Keep in mind it is now 630AM.  So we had to get the food to go.  I did not want to take my soup to go, so I ate it as quickly as I could alternating bites of chowder with key lime pie, which was met with strange looks from everyone at the table (which now included a man named Paul). As soon as I finished stuffing the last bite of $6 pie into my mouth I was told that we were no longer going to the party and I could take my time eating.  Fuck. So we left the diner, which is not really a diner because they don’t serve milkshakes (despite having ice cream and milk on the menu, and a blender in full view of the bar).  Neither 7a (home of the $6 pie) nor Sidewalk have milkshakes making that entire block of A between 6th and 7th pretenders to the claim of diner.

Continuing on, before I returned home I tried to convince Jess, who had been topless several times in the last two hours, to let me take a picture of her flashing a small spanish speaking bodega employee who was sweeping up flower petals outside of a corner store.  She was too embarrassed to do it, but thought it would be a great idea to take a picture with him anyway.  I said forget it, but by that time she was already across the street putting her arm around him for a picture.  Right before I took it, I pulled off the bandana that she was wearing as a shirt down, exposing her to this small man, which caused pretty much everyone to fall on the ground laughing.  Everyone high fived me, and even Jess thought it was pretty funny.  I hope when I develop that roll it will be as funny as I think it will be.  A few minutes later I said good bye and walked back up the street towards that bodega, the man was still outside watering flowers with the biggest grin I have ever seen in my life still on his face.  I was glad I could lighten up his life if only for a little while… because after all, isn’t that what pornography is all about?

Let the metal gods bless you all.  Hail Satan.

Enjoy some of the pictures from the Hair Metal Dress Up Party.

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Happy 4th Of July

Okay. Let’s start by staying happy 4th of July. When I think of the 4th I think about going to the beach with my family and setting off hundreds of dollars worth of free fireworks every year. My dad used to loan one of the maintenance guys at his law office a few thousand dollars every year and he would open a firework stand and sell fireworks for a few weeks. He would always pay my dad back with fireworks as interest. So every year we would always have the sickest, most dangerous fireworks. My friend Marshall and I used to take them apart and make bombs out of them. About a year ago, my parents turned my old bed room into a guest room and they made me clean out the room. When I was going through all my stuff I found one of the bombs we made. It is huge, and I think I am going to set it on fire today and see what happens. It is at least 12 years old, probably older. It will either do nothing, or blow up in my face. There is not really a fuse and I remember putting gun powder in it. Yikes.

My second point of order is that it is my dog Freedom’s 17th birthday today. This is a completely unreasonable thing. My dog has been deaf and mostly blind for several years. He can barely move. He can’t walk up stairs and he can no longer run. That being said, he never seems like he is in pain, and is always happy to see me when I visit my parents, so I am very glad he is still hanging in there. I got him in the 5th grade and I could not have been happier to have a dog. I wanted a big dog, or a pug… but my parents wanted to get a Westie.. they won. I wanted to get the biggest one of the puppies, but my brother wanted the smallest… he won. Still, I was just ecstatic to have a puppy. I had him sitting on my chest when I was resting on the ground. He jumped for possibly the first time in his life and it was about the cutest thing I had ever seen. I almost vomited cupcakes.

Anyway, if he just makes it one more year, I can probably sleep with a girl who is younger than my dog, and I think that will be a feat worth mentioning.

Anyway, happy 4th, I hope you have fun. I will be busy blowing up bombs and watching people devour hot dogs for sport.

Enjoy this video of America’s Greatest Hero: Joey Chestnut… See you at Nathan’s

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EzBIH8Frq-8[/youtube]

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All I Need Is Cop

So I got a parking ticket the other day and it made me realize I don’t have any cop friends that could fix this situation for me. So I decided to place some personal ads on Craigslist. Click the adds to see the actual posts while they last.

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UPDATE – 6.12.08:
I didn’t receive any responses to my add until today.

The $#%#D@ nerve.  I hope they hammer you hard.
What your asking for and what your offering in return is a serious charge.
I suggest you stay off of craigs list with your nonsense.

HAHAHAHAHA….

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Birthday Week Begins

Tomorrow night is part one of my birthday celebration at High Voltage. It will be fun.

Then Thursday is my actual birthday, and I think I am just going to spend it at home.

Then Friday will be the craziness. I am not sure if I have to tell you this, but I do not drink… except on my birthday and New Years Eve. On New Years I had to shoot a party so I stayed pretty in control. That will not be the case on Friday. I plan on getting extremely destroyed and I will try to make out with pretty much any girl who comes near me, so be warned. I am a very nice drunk… just maybe a little too nice. Last year I made out with 22 ladies, and if I get as drunk as I think I will, I will try to break that total.

Check out the photos from last year. And then check out the flyers below. I am also hosting a party Saturday with details to come soon.

UPDATE: Flyer for Saturday posted below. I can’t believe they listed me as “Stud Photographer”. That is horrifying.

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Help Kristine!

My friend Kristine had everything she owned destroyed in a fire a few weeks ago.  She is amazing and was one of my first friends in NYC.  I did not really realize how bad things were for her until I got this email she sent out.  I am sending her out some stuff tomorrow, but I was hoping maybe some of you could help her too.  Attached is her email message.  Please contact me via email or myspace  (or her myspace) for her mailing address.  I did not want to post it online.

 As you may already know by now, on April 22nd, less than one month ago, several people (including myself) lost our creative workspace, rehearsal space and most importantly our home to a devastating fire and I have temporarily relocated to Louisville, Kentucky. Yes, I am coming back, however I am not certain when. My father had purchased, as a birthday gift to me, a round trip ticket to Louisville so that I could attend the 134th Kentucky Derby, an event I had been waiting to fall on my 29th birthday since I was a little girl. My family and close friends encouraged me to continue my plans in the wake of the fire and I am glad I did: it was magical. I blew out a candle alone on my birthday and it was fine. On the eve of my return flight to NYC I realized that I had nothing to come home to and that staying in Kentucky to regroup and relax was a much better option than jumping back into the hurried and competitive pace of Gotham. I believe I made the right decision. After all, staying on my ex-boyfriend’s couch (we all ended up at our exes in the days after the fire) seemed like a giant step backward and I am determined to continue progressing. (Plus I am certain he didn’t really want me there anyway!)

Although by some incredible blessing no human was injured, we did lose our feline friend, Pilgrim. I am not sure how many of you have experienced or survived a residential fire (to those of you who have I can’t thank you enough for being there for me), but aside from the great monetary loss of possessions and the harsh reality of seeing who really is (or is not) there for you in times of great need, losing this animal seems to be the most heartbreaking aspect of the tragedy for me. This could be because I am notoriously allergic to — and thus averse to — cats, but I really loved him. I would dream about Pilgrim and wake up with him and tell him…I have attached his photo.

Every night my dreams are incredibly stressful and reflect some event having to do with the fire: my belongings that were lost, trying to save Pilgrim, our shattered collective, the separation of my close friends and the stress and adversity we are each individually and collectively experiencing. This has affected the way we are behaving toward one another, and although I am a realist and considering the circumstances, I have not experienced the sensitivity and kindness I give to others, and that hurts.  I was so happy to be where I had finally landed, and the future looked promising. Now, I know that there is a bigger plan somehow in the cards for me, and I know that I will make it to see those plans manifest. I also hope my friends from the house are truly friends and I will see them again. I miss them. I miss a lot of people right now and feel sad that more people I know have not reached out, if even to say hello.

Add to this that I am in a new and unfamiliar environment with new and unfamiliar people and new and unfamiliar surroundings and one might understand how it took me three weeks to be able to muster the strength to go to the Red Cross for assistance. I had posted myspace bulletins asking people I knew for things(with little response), my ex was kind enough to send me what few things I had left and some cash to float me and I think I have just been reeling, feeling sort of happy to be here but also incredibly overstimulated. I don’t have many of the things I need to survive, or what little I have left of what I DO have is about to be all used up. So, finally getting to the Red Cross today proved to be really unproductive: without proof of residency, there is nothing they can do for me. I wasn’t on the lease, and since I “waited too long” I am ineligible for financial assistance anyway. This was really impactive and painful for some reason. I have found a part-time job to tide me over and I begin Wednesday, and my strained finances are an additional burden, so I am glad to regain some structure. I went from having a weekly calendar to having no calendar, and for an organized producer like me, this is also devastating.

Click here to keep reading.

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