Bitter and Twisted

Sometimes I horrify myself. I am very, very angry and it’s not well concealed. I try to not express the overwhelming anger, frustration and derision I feel towards, well, essentially the entire human race or at least 99.5% of the people that have regular or even visceral contact with me. It doesn't work, people around me say that every emotion I am having, most notably revulsion towards people I consider to be idiots, is belied by my facial expressions. It's a curse, I cannot hide anything.

There are a few exceptions to my intolerance. I have some great friends consisting mostly of women who have known me for 10 - 20 years and ex-boyfriends who have moved into the position of close personal friends. I think they tire of my constant ranting, I understand, they have to hear my swear word laden diatribes 24/7. Writing this seems to help a little, it takes the pressure off of them to prevent me from
a. Having a heart attack at a young age.
b. Bludgeoning the guy at the UHO table in front of Barnes and Noble on Union Square. The last thing I need in my life is a guilt trip by a probable crackhead who only recently decided to put himself in a wheelchair and get a dog to con money out of unsuspecting tourists. “Help feed the homeless” my ass. More like “help feed my crack habit”
But I digress….

It wasn’t always like this. Starting this business has not been good for me. Working 70 hours a week for 10 years has not been good for me, physically and mentally. As the business gets bigger I have less of a life, I thought it would improve. It actually didn't seem possible that I could have less of a life, but here I am working from 6 a.m. until 8 or 9 at night Monday through Saturday and 6 hours on Sunday. And thinking about ways that I could work more because I am so overwhelmed. This past week I actually considered taking a shower every other day as a time saving measure. I used to have interests beyond worrying if I can pay my employees this month and whether or not I was a complete hardass to my accountant because he lost my tax returns.

I used to be vain. I liked being vain and I was really good at it. I liked worrying about whether or not my hairdresser was putting in the right shade of blonde highlights or if Ballet Slipper was a good pinkish/nude color for my nails. I used to read books. I used to take tremendous pleasure in watching four hour back-to-back COPS marathons on TV just so I could recite to my friends detailled stories about the half-naked drunken arrestees getting handcuffed on their mobile home front lawns. Nothing like being entertained by the personal tragedies of others.

Now I look forward to a glass of wine and an Ambien to put me to sleep.


I don’t assume that anyone is going to read this blog religiously or beg me to post more often because I provide terrific entertainment. I don't. My brand of humor is overwhelmingly negative, my overall writing style is pretty depressive which is a perfect reflection of my personality of late. Writing well is simply not a skill that I possess and that’s okay. I know my writing is stiff, formulaic in a corporate correspondence kind of way, sarchastic and sometimes pedantic. Thankfully I have other things that I do well. This is just something to do in the rare moments that I am not working or thinking about working or thinking about what I could be doing if I were working…..you get the idea.

Model Wannabe

We just finished a grueling photo shoot. I let the photographer pick the models. The last time we did a shoot he was despondent over my model choices. He hated them. Passionately. He almost walked out on the last shoot, but I thought the models were good. So I figured he would have absolutely no excuses for mediocre images if he chose the models this time. Photographers love to blame the models when the images are mediocre. Sometimes it’s true, but often the photographer just screwed up and isn’t taking responsibility. Images of Linda Evangelista in LaPerla lingerie and Christian Louboutin shoes could look like a Cherry Budweiser Sponsored Amateur Modeling Night in the Deliverance Trailer Park if she wasn’t lit properly and the camera angles are wrong.

We've done photo shoots for five years, there are rarely problems except for the occasional no-show. Modeling is not an easy job, I acknowledge that. Most models usually work hard without acting like prima donnas. I've had a few models with significant hangover issues, but they usually rise above it with the help of strong coffee, Vitamin Water and lots of cigarettes. This shoot was different.

Photographers if given free reign, almost always choose the most expensive models they can get away with. This time they were $3,000 per day, per model, two models. We are a small company and this is a lot of money for us. The whole one day shoot cost about $15,000 total, not the kind of budget Dolce & Gabbana would have, but a lot of money for us. Our expectations are always high as it means so much to us to get it right.

Models arrived. Hungover. Puffy. Dark circles that implied a not-so-distant ancestral mating with a family of raccoons. I should have been smart enough to not schedule a shoot that day. It was the morning after a major American drinking holiday. I should have sent at least one home, but was hopeful that the combined skills of heavy makeup/Photoshop-clone/blur tools would render their obvious physical discomfort less visible to the human eye. Sometimes the heavy-lidded look can be interpreted as “sexy”, as opposed to the reality “I’ve had about 30 minutes of sleep after drinking a bottle of Ketel One, and I wish you would get that fucking flash out of my eyes”.

I suspect one of them was high.
a. She smelled like pot
b. She ate two Danish, 1 croissant, 1 fruit cup with granola and yogurt and a breakfast sandwich consisting of scrambled eggs, ham and cheese within ½ hour of arrival
c. She was asking about lunch at 9:00 in the morning after consuming the above.
d. She found my question “Hello Jane, how are you today?” very, very funny.
e. The make up artist said she was stoned and it was hard to apply make up that made her look "awake".

I don't care if you smoke Nicaraguan Sandinista Guerilla Gold by the kilo. Enjoy yourself, inhale deeply. I do give a damn if you do a wake and bake before a photo shoot where I am paying $3,600 a day for you. Jesus Christ... Is this so hard to understand?

Here’s a sampling of the day’s dialogue. When reading the Model part, be sure to use a very slightly feminine but thick Kissinger-esque accent.

Model: "Don’t put that on me, it has vool in it."

Me: "Are you allergic to wool?"

Model: "No, but vool is itchy. I don’t like vool. I DON'T VEAR VOOL." (throws garment to floor)

This puts us in a bad position as 50% of the garments that we needed photographed have wool in them. We try to coax her to put them on, but she won't do it.

Me thinking: How is it possible that you are a fashion model if you won't let wool touch your body? Do you only allow certified organic cotton vegetable dyed fibers to touch your pristine ivory skin? That must really limit your employment prospects in the industry.

You are essentially a highly paid clothes hanger, it is your job to display clothes beautifully. Put the fucking wool sweater on for 10 minutes, your agency is getting paid $3,000 a day +commission for you. I wouldn’t hire a diva like you to lick postage stamps in the real world. Based on what I've seen today, your only employable quality is what some would term freakish genetics. 100 years ago you would have been put in a travelling carnival, given the title Skeleton Girl and shared a booth with Midget Man and Gecko Boy.

Me seething: "Oh, maybe we can have the stylist find something to put under the outfits so you don’t itch."

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Model: "How many more shots today?"

Me: "Well it's only 2:30 in the afternoon and you are scheduled here until 5:00 so I don't know. Even if we finish with the garments we may go back and re-shoot some things that we are not happy with"

Model: "I have another audition to go to."

Me: "You won't be here past 5:00"

Model: "My audition is at 4:30, I NEED to leave at 4:00"

Me: "So call your agency, you won't make it on time. I am sorry"

Model, voice rising: "But it is for a huge imporant account!"

Me: "Okay, but maybe your agency should have thought about that when they booked you with us today. I'm not closing the whole shoot down one hour early so you can leave for another appointment."

Model swearing under her breath: "undistinguishable word, undistinguisable word...fucking job"

Me thinking: You must have attended a prestigious charm school in Slovakia

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Me: "Okay, so for a few of the shots the hair person is going to put a wig on you."

Model: "I hate fucking vigs"

Me: "Yeah, I know, wigs are hot and not very comfortable, but we want to change your look a little"

Model: "Vigs hurt, I hate fucking Vigs. My hair won’t fit under a fucking vig!"

Me thinking: Hasn’t your “tourist visa” expired?

Me: "Well it’s the last shot of the day so you won’t have it on for long, we’ll try to keep it short."

Model (almost hysterical): "But it vill vreck my hair and I have an audition for a dandruff commercial this evening. My hair has to be long and lustrous! (tosses wig on floor)."

Me losing my temper: "I don't particularly care what your evening job demands are, at this moment in time you have been hired to work for us. Please let them put the wig on you."

Me thinking: I hate you more than you will ever know.

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James Joyce, Rock Star

Yesterday one of my employees, a fairly recent Cornell graduate with honors, asked me who James Joyce was. She thought he was a rock musician in England. At least she was close with the country. We were talking about Bloomsday. She thought it was a rock festival. She was serious. She never heard of him before yesterday.


Last night at dinner in a neighborhood restaurant a girl at the table next to me was trying to impress her date. It was her life long dream to go to John Hopkins and that she was going to apply. She repeated it loudly a few times so I was sure that I was hearing it correctly. I personally think your dreams should include knowing the proper name of the institution that you are longing for. I wonder what her date thought. I wonder if he even knew.

I have a constant ringing in my ears and my head may explode soon.

BrYanZ Grrrl

I realize that making snap judgments about potential employees based on their e-mail addresses may not be particularly fair, and I don’t give a flying damn what their personal address is, but how much common sense do you need to realize that sending out applications for an office position should be done in a more professional manner? Really, how hard is it to get a hotmail or gmail account using something boring, like possibly your real name?


More fine applicants today. Again I have changed the actual addresses significantly from what I actually received, but believe me, the overall tone and grammatical structure is very similar.

IGotWhatUWantBaby4404 @ xxxxxxx.com
I certainly am not against people that have a high opinion of themselves, but please…. My assumption is that “whatuwant” is her appearance and/or possibly a set of skills that I would prefer to not think about first thing in the morning. I doubt that it has anything to do with reading Dostoyevsky in original Russian by candlelight.

BrYanZBabyGirl_92030 @ xxxxxx.com
Good for BrYanZ or Bryan’s or Bryan. Or whomever she is baby girl to. What’s the deal with Baby? Baby seems to be an overriding theme lately. I hate it when women refer to themselves as Baby. In songs its okay, otherwise it’s obviously pretty demeaning, and goes against everything women have been fighting for in the last say 100 years.

Perhaps you should prepare for the future, a future you probably can't imagine right now. A future that may/may not include BrYanZ. Maybe you should register SomebodyZBabyGrrrrl for that special period when you are no longer BrYanZ baby but you haven’t found another guy to put at the beginning of your e-mail address. Never put your name in your own e-mail address. Use your boyfriends name, representing to the world your entire reason for existence.

Sexy Sweet 4 U

I'm hiring.

Let's talk about application skills shall we? I would like to provide you with some friendly employment advise. Compris of course.

Understand this basic fact. When you respond to my Craig's List employment ad, if your e-mail address is sexysweetbabe4uXXXXX@xxxxx.com I'm going to laugh at you. As a matter of fact, I'm not only going to laugh at you, I'm going to show your moronic e-mail address around the office and we are ALL going to laugh, out loud, at your expense. Your e-mail address is going to provide an inordinate amount of mirth for a good five or six minutes. We find you very entertaining. Perhaps this is not the reaction you were hoping for.

I have developed a keen picture of you in my mind. It is not flattering and it involves inappropriately sheer leggings that are two sizes too small and a lot of text messaging to your pathetic boyfriend who can't pass the psychological test at Wal-Mart due to his "anger issues". In my not so humble opinion you will never get a job.

Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Here is a representative smattering of other e-mail addresses I have received lately. Obviously I have altered them somewhat to protect the..............innocent.

badattitude4u@xxxxxxxx.com
I am a huge fan of the bad attitude addresses, they are almost better than the sexually explicit "I am a sexy bitch 'ho" ones. I am absolutely sure that providing this e-mail address to a prospective employer is not an indicator of your judgement skills.

For some reason many people find typing the word "for", a three letter word much more difficult than using the number 4. Three keystrokes as opposed to one, I'm sure that frees up a huge amount of time in your very busy schedule. You've really mastered that "efficiency thing". U is obviously cuter than using the three letter word "you". When Prince did this in his written lyrics 20 years ago it was vaguely amusing. You are not Prince. Now it just makes you look unintelligent and lazy. Please keep this in mind for future reference.

insanejaneXXXX@xxxxxx.com
Enough said. We don't provide mental health coverage.

Im_A_BiG_DiVa_StArRrR_449@ xxxxxxxxx.com
This paints a pretty employment picture doesn't it?
Ms. StArRrR provided layers of amusement when she added an incentive for me to open her e-mail with the title line "hi baby...please check out myspace page....tell me what u think" with a hyperlink to her page which happily included a description of her weekend activities:
1. Drinking copious amounts of strawberry flavored cognac
2. Smoking marijuana
3. Sexual activities in an alley involving not one, but two men, and unfortunately
4. Vomiting on 3rd Avenue at 2:00 in the morning.
Busy girl, she definately can multi-task

She did, however, say "tell me what u think". I momentarily thought that she may be open to self-exploration and a certain amount of personal growth which I was optomistic about. I was sorely tempeted to provide her with my jaded insights from an employer's perspective. She did provide a resume. At a later date I will discuss the creative merits of that, especially the Personal Objective paragraph.

BaDDestChic_94848@xxxxxxx.com
And so you are.....I especially liked the DD reference. Because your bra size is an important hiring criteria for me.

SmileGodLovesU_4evr@xxxxxxxxxxxx.org
Please shut up now before I find a dark hole to dump you in. You are annoying. Thank you for your understanding.

EmminemBADASS_Boy@xxxxxxxx.com
I'm always looking for the positive traits in every applicant...probably because I am so desparate. I think this "boy" would be very good at expository writing. I personally like the BADASS next to the BOY. It provides interesting mental imagery if I were to really ponder it in depth. And the capitalization of BADASS made it very profound and REAL if you know what I mean.