It's grueling on Wall Street
It's grueling on Wall Street. Thus the dearth of posting. I don't know how people do it every day. Plus, having been crucified by Dealbreaker.com, it's doubly hard to type with my hands nailed to this cross.
That said, I am so fond of Dealbreaker that if they told me to substitute shit for my shampoo I would ask them how long I should leave it in for maximum conditioning. They've been that supportive.
So a little nastiness is probably a good thing.
Plus, if the alternative is stony silence then...
Hmmmm, I am liking the quiet.
Tomorrow, the Manchester Guardian runs a blurb on me. Remind me to tell you about the photo shoot. It was like being Giselle Bundchen. I even, at one point, asked the photographer if she wanted me to take my shirt off.
As I said this, I was sprawled across the steps of a building cat-a-corner (however one spells that) from the Exchange. I haven't seen the shots yet, but my guess is that I'm in the foreground, the painting is over my right shoulder and the columns of the NYSE, lit as the American flag, over my left.
Check that. I'm guessing that my double chin is in the foreground, I'm sitting somewhere behind it, the painting is over my right shoulder, etc.
She said no, by the way.
To the whole shirt thing. But at least twenty people stopped to watch. Maybe ten. But plenty. The only thing that kept if from really being a photo shoot was the lack of a make-up artist.
I will say this: the photographer has an impressive website. Lisa Carpenter. I was impressed by the other people she's shot. I mean, we're talking Nicole Kidman. And, ironically, Maria Bartiromo. I am so air-kissing Big Maria the next time I see her and asking if she's heard from Lisa lately. I mean, the mind reels.
Plus, for the record, Slash, Joan Didion and that kid with the sharks in formaldehyde and the diamond skull--three individuals with connections to The Year of Magical Painting.
That said, I am so fond of Dealbreaker that if they told me to substitute shit for my shampoo I would ask them how long I should leave it in for maximum conditioning. They've been that supportive.
So a little nastiness is probably a good thing.
Plus, if the alternative is stony silence then...
Hmmmm, I am liking the quiet.
Tomorrow, the Manchester Guardian runs a blurb on me. Remind me to tell you about the photo shoot. It was like being Giselle Bundchen. I even, at one point, asked the photographer if she wanted me to take my shirt off.
As I said this, I was sprawled across the steps of a building cat-a-corner (however one spells that) from the Exchange. I haven't seen the shots yet, but my guess is that I'm in the foreground, the painting is over my right shoulder and the columns of the NYSE, lit as the American flag, over my left.
Check that. I'm guessing that my double chin is in the foreground, I'm sitting somewhere behind it, the painting is over my right shoulder, etc.
She said no, by the way.
To the whole shirt thing. But at least twenty people stopped to watch. Maybe ten. But plenty. The only thing that kept if from really being a photo shoot was the lack of a make-up artist.
I will say this: the photographer has an impressive website. Lisa Carpenter. I was impressed by the other people she's shot. I mean, we're talking Nicole Kidman. And, ironically, Maria Bartiromo. I am so air-kissing Big Maria the next time I see her and asking if she's heard from Lisa lately. I mean, the mind reels.
Plus, for the record, Slash, Joan Didion and that kid with the sharks in formaldehyde and the diamond skull--three individuals with connections to The Year of Magical Painting.
posted by Geoffrey at 7:32 PM
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