Squashed

Three things happened yesterday, two good one bad.

Firstly my butt was featured by our Portuguese-Peeking-Butt friends over at CU-CU. This is not big news to you real photographic folks who get featured everywhere all the time, but I’m not a real model and I never get featured anywhere, so this was pretty darn cool for me.

Secondly I got 100% in my Corporate Insolvency exam. Woo hoo! Go me! So if your company is going down the corporate toilet, clearly I am one of the top nekkid asses to advise you on the best way to haul your own butt out of your crap, so to speak (ugh, too much graphic bottom terminology…sorry, I get lost in my ass-metaphors sometimes.)

Lastly, and this bit was not fun, I was picking my daughter up from school, and whilst strapping her into her car seat, another car drove past and cut way too close, smashing into my car and trapping my legs betwixt car door and body. The driver concerned must have known what had happened, because the impact made a very loud crunch and it wrecked my door (and presumably his too), but whoever it was drove off at high speed, and didn’t stop. My first (and hopefully last) hit and run.

My daughter was inside the car, and thankfully was unscathed. I ended up with heavily bruised and bleeding legs, but no bones broken. I’m limping for the foreseeable future, and have since discovered the heady delights of industrial-strength painkillers washed down with copious amounts of alcohol. I can truthfully and deliriously report that rum and tonic is the most excellent anaesthetic, and I highly recommend it to anyone who wants to admire their own butt whilst no longer feeling their legs.

And really, that’s pretty much all I want to say about yesterday, thank you.

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The British Woman's Friday Night Party Kit

Time to go browse some shoe-porn to cheer myself up. Mmm…randy-rummy-retail-retifism. I feel some new shoes coming on…

The Absence of Self

“There is no me. I do not exist. There used to be a me but I had it surgically removed.”
Peter Sellers

No doubt some of you will be wondering why our blogging has been minimal in the past few weeks. It hasn’t all been over-work-related. I’ve been feeling slightly below par recently. This is totally unlike me, as I‘m usually an incredibly balanced and sensible person (It’s true, and you can all just stop laughing now, otherwise I‘ll thump you.). However there’s no doubt that strange things have been happening, courtesy of my expanding/shrinking/currently-in-its-death-throes-tumour.

I was warned of course that there would be lasting side effects of the treatment, But being warned about something isn’t the same as living it. The effects are really kicking in now. Vertigo, pain, nausea, chronic itchy head (I nearly shaved my head yesterday out of sheer desperation.) And my personality is changing on a daily basis, depending on what part of my brain the tumour is pressing today. Rich is an absolute saint for putting up with me, I can tell you that. For example I woke up yesterday as an atheist, for no reason at all (Rich calls it enlightenment and takes it as a good sign!)

I’ve absolutely no idea what has happened to “the real me.” She’s long gone. I’m a floating voter at the moment. I’ve nearly deleted the blog at least 21 times last week (that’s three times a day.) Now don’t you go feeling sympathy for me, 'cos that will only make me mad. And I’ll probably delete this post anyway, but assuming I decide to leave it up or you catch it via RSS feeds, this is by way of explanation as to what’s happening in The Fluffytek Photographic World. Oh and Rich worked 82 hours last week. The man is superhuman. He really is.

Anyhoo, I’m not feeling despondent about all of this, and I do know I’ll get past all the side effects, but in the meantime, you can anticipate wacky personality changes on my part, and no doubt the bloggie-style and contents will fluctuate accordingly.

For example, I’ve been tempted to pick up a camera recently. Very strongly tempted. Resistance to this foolish notion is not aided by the fact that Rich has offered me his old Canon 350D. Not that I want to shoot female nudes though. No worries there (I’m not that crazy. Yet.) But sometimes I really do get tempted to view life from the other side of the lens. T’would be interesting, and rather therapeutic, methinks. Plus it would provide answers to the constant questions I inevitably ask “How do they do that? What lighting do they use? How is a photograph produced?” (Rather than the viewer’s/writer’s perspective of why?) Hmm. We shall see. I really would make a terrible photographer you know.

Right, off to my lime-and-lemon-grass-flavoured-bubble-bath. If I don’t decide to go to the dark side and take up photography or full-time writing, I might alternatively pursue a new and exciting career inbreeding Norwegian Forest cats, or even start a company selling exotic-flavoured-bubble-bath. Plus we could get some really good photos of bubblicious models (with said Norwegian Forest Cats) soaking in a giant steamy foamy tub. Cliché. Cliché. Predictable glamour photography, I know. Rich is shuddering at the thought.

Anyway, who gives a damn if a photograph’s been done many times before, as long as it smells nice?

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Pirate Maiden. I've no idea if she smells nice, but very probably.

This post will self-destruct in 5 seconds.