How not to inspire me

Email 1 - "Reminder to all employees that Labor Day is NOT a holiday for us"
Email 2 - "Please see above"
Email 3 - "CEO is taking Monday off"

Fuck me...as I sit here the phone has not rung once (well it did ring once but it was a automated marketing call). All my consultants are gone...I'm tired as fuck, my head hurts, everyone else is either asleep or relaxing at home. I (and some of my poor coworkers) are the only ones suffering this shit out. Fuck loyalty...I want out. I want to go home, fuck this place and all in it.

Eight more months to gird my loins and stick this bullshit out. Fuck.

Arrogance

It was an interesting conversation over the sushi, this question of arrogance. See the thing is I’ve been accused of this before, though one of the people who called me out was just yanking my chain in the great mating game. But I guess as I pointed out to the boys I (and we) are a bit arrogant, especially when it comes to associating with the expats in SoCal.

See I have this thing, I remember where I’m from. Just because it’s been almost nine (yes nine) years since I’ve left home I haven’t left any of that behind. I still dress the same, jeans, t-shirt, flip flops; you won’t see me in football jerseys and pants sagging around my ankles. I speak the same, no nasal American accent or posh tosh Brit accent. I detest the people who have been here for a month and speak like they have Paris Hilton stuck up their arses. I have been successful enough without having to compromise who I am.

So yes I guess I’m arrogant, but the funny thing is I’m not at the same time. I get along famously with similar souls who I’ve meet for the first time. I think I need the same irreverence that I have towards everything reflected in my friends, the absolute opposition to fakeness and insincerity and the ability to laugh at oneself.

This probably explains why I have so few (read none) American friends, while I had so many (and still have) British friends. The Americans take themselves too bloody seriously and combine that with my irreverence makes for a lot of bruised egos. Back to the subject, I guess my arrogance comes because when I see the qualities I so dislike in a bunch of people, I clam up, which can so often be interpreted as arrogance…when it’s actually disregard.

Those of you who know me, feel free to comment. I will bear no harsh feelings.

Late night phone calls

Maybe there is something to late night phone calls....for once that was nice. Perhaps the game is still on...I just wish December would hurry up and come along...for that final reach for the finish line.

The regretful robot

You know when P and S mentioned as an aside that after watching Stealth, they though they would pick Jessica Biel over Jessica Alba any day…I was understandably a bit taken aback. Granted they (I think) did not go through puberty with the wet dream of an equally pubescent Jessica Alba frolicking around in a bikini (I believe there was a cetacean involved somewhere in that equation) but still…Alba’s ass is one of the greatest gifts to mankind, right up there with fiber optics and liposuction. If you need any evidence ask me about the plot for Into the Blue. I swear I’ve seen it about 10 times but all I remember is a brown bikini.

Anywhoo….back to Stealth, OMFG…isn’t it the coolest film ever…like totally!? Whew…apologies for that, I think I’ve been in the Valley too much. But seriously, the movie hits all the right spots, explosions, blue bikini, planes, flyboys, blue bikini, exotic locales, guns, blue bikini, etc.

The high points were however as follows:

• A regretful robot – seriously Eddie is soooo much more 21^st Century than Hal ever was. He feels sorry; he has empathy for the thousands of people he condemned to death by radiation poisoning. If he had a female flying deep penetration unit to hang out with, he’d be asking to be held in the night…when the tears come. Like the rest of us 21^st Century males.
• A geography lesson – before Stealth I didn’t know where Tajikistan (omfg, I spelt that right the first time). I especially did not know where it was in relation to Alaska and North Korea. I mean most movies show you exotic locales, but how many films show you where they are. Bloody brilliant.
• A ladyboy – was it just me but did anyone else notice that the totally hot chick Jamie Foxx picked up at a Thai forest monastery (seriously, who knew that was a pick up joint) had an Adam’s apple? I think he got that page (btw the Navy lets them fly super futuristic jets but gives them pagers to get in touch? Really?) at just the right time.
• Jamie Foxx running into a mountain face – enough said.

I do have a few criticisms though, minor really but I feel I would be letting humanity down if I wasn’t totally honest with this review:

• Why the fuck did the North Korean dude shoot Jessica Biel? Seriously hot chick parachutes into your country you capture her alive and then possibly buy her a drink. You do not go poking holes in her. Could you not see that brilliant ass in your scope? Idiot.
• Why did Jessica Biel and Josh Lucas break into North Korea? I’m confused…see they ran towards the North Korean lines through a wasteland (which I assume was the DMZ) and then broke through the lines. Aided of course by a self sacrificing robot. Odd that.

But the key question that I have as a result of the movie is one that is going to provide me with a conundrum for some time to come. One that I would dearly love to solve first hand (weak pun).

Which ass to choose?

No Nudity Please

Not that I’m against nakedness you know. But generally when it’s a cute girl…or even sometimes a mediocre girl when I have a high BAC. Beggars can’t be choosers right? Naked, wrinkly, old men though are however not high on my list for nude spotting.

There I was in the gym kind of elated that I ran into the only cute girl from work at the gym and I would finally be able to judge how her ass looked and picked myself a locker. As I took my shirt off up rolled some clown, you know the usual middle aged yobo. Typically of most Americans he tried to engage me in some random small talk about the baseball game that was going on the screen in the locker room. Typically of me, I ignored him (I don’t even understand baseball), plugged into my earphones and bent over to put my shoes on.

I’m not sure how long I took to put on my shoes but when I looked up my balls retracted. The gentleman next to me had not only disrobed but appeared to be putting on something that looked like a cross between a jock strap, a BDSM device and a leather thong. All thoughts of the work girl’s ass fled, never to be thought again.

Along with my balls.

Perhaps a career as a tenor.

What to do when the Big One hits

Look disconcertedly up at the air duct vent and wonder why the air conditioning system got so loud.

Realize that it’s not in fact the air-conditioning system as everything’s shaking.

Feel a certain sense of déjà vu.

Get a bit worried since the shakings not stopping…

In fact it’s getting stronger.

Desperately try to remember what the advice was for a big shake up…under the desk or in the doorway. Try to recall the news article I saw in the gym exposing one of the two options as a fallacy.

Fuck…

Realize files on my head would not be pleasant.

Make a run for the door and stand uncertainly as the shaking thankfully stops.

5.4 on the Richter scale.

Send the obligatory text…”you boys all shook up?”

A Southern Californian Fairytale (Part 2)

Cough…cough...life interrupted....my sincere apologies for the delay.

Where was I?

Oh yeah…channeling Sir Mixalot, how did it go? “I like big butts and I cannot lie!”

Well to be fair I don’t really like big butts that much, but then after a BAC of 10% who was I to be picky.

To be honest I can’t remember the lines that I threw but suffice to say that she had my number and I had her email by the end of the dance with the promise of a studio shoot for her portfolio. That I didn’t have any experience doing a portfolio shoot or for that matter a studio was a slight issue, but then to be fair, like most strip club experiences (don’t ask) I expected nothing to come of it.

Some incredulousness from P, a dropped cigarette in the car and a hangover later all I could remember was something about a Lavish from the night before. So there I was staring rather blearily at a computer screen suffering the Monday blues when the phone buzzed.

Hmm….818 number…must be a consultant accidently calling my cell.

“Hello”

“Hi Honey, it’s Lavish”

To say that I was surprised was probably the understatement of the century.

Of course she wanted a photo shoot. Now the issue of not actually having a studio became a bit of a stickler.

A quick call to P and a trawl of the web brought up a host of DIY photography equipment. Suffice to say that all the boys inhaled enough PVC over the weekend to take at least a decade of our lives. A couple of all nighters, lots of sawing, pissed off neighbours and various hallucinogens later and we had a studio (and a knowledge of plumbing that will obviously stand us in good stead in the years to come).

All that was left was planning the actual shoot. For this we needed research…and it was research of the highest quality and very taxing on the mind. Poring though picture after picture of naked girls to figure out poses and lighting. Rather excitedly I shared with P the fact that I had come across the girl’s old portfolio and even more excitedly pointed out a pose to him.

“Now that would be stellar….just getting the pose might be a bit of an issue eh?” Said I.

So the big day rolled around. Lavish turned up and in the blink of an eye was naked. I believe I had to snap my fingers in front of P’s face to get his attention. Fair enough considering she got disrobed at light speed, before we could even suggest lingerie.

“No, I need naked shots”

“Ok then…”

Then it happened. The first test shots were brilliant, but then the dreaded event occurred. I know apparently it happens to everyone, but I’ve certainly never had an issue and I don’t think P has had either.

Equipment malfunction.

Of course if there’s one thing that inspires quick thinking it’s a naked girl. So some quick thinking and some jerry rigging and the shoot progressed. The work was snappy, the giant lightbox was beautiful. Then the big moment came. With a rather wild glint in his eye P mumbled he was going in. Now or never…this was the time to ask for the pose.

“You know you earlier portfolio had a cool shot, we want to repeat it. Could you erm….turn around and spread your ass?”

History was made and a Studio was born….