I like to take photos of things. Mostly peoples. Mostly pretty peoples, if I'm honest. But sometimes toys, or dogs, or maybe a tree. Y'know, interesting stuff.
I shoot a few burlesque shows, but that's just to kill time between photoshoots with models, where I can control the light and the pose and the magic.
My photos will have the tag "my photo". Otherwise, it's stolen from the vast wilderness that is the internet. I usually source pics from Model Mayhem, Flickr or We <3 it.
You wanna look me up elsewhere?
when I was at school, the girl I liked was really into horses, so I read the horse whisperer and struck up a conversation with her about it.
Wanting to play up my sensitive side, I told her I cried at the end.
I think she thought I was gay, which must be why when I showed up at the school dance with a single red rose and asked her to dance she ran away and hid in the toilet.
You go all the way home at lunch, intent on making a decent tuna sammich, but you get home and there is no tuna and no bread, so you go and wait in a 15 minute long queue for a Burger King, but the “King of the Day” is a fucking Rodeo Burger, so you have to pay like fucking £6 for a burger you like.
And then, you still have to pick the gherkins out.
when you’re scrolling through someones Instagram feed…..( I wouldn’t say stalking, but, well, what else would you call it )…..and you accidentally double tap to scroll, and accidentally <3 LIKE <3 someones photo
So, I went to one of the many fine coffee establishments nearby, and in a flash, I suddenly remembered an embarrassing thing I’d all but forgotten.
A long time ago,
in a galaxy far, far away… I developed something of a major crush on one of the barista girls at said coffee shop. It wasn’t just that she was cute, and all shy, but she legit poured the greatest coffees I’ve ever tasted. Ever.
Now, being that I’m a bumbling fucking imbecile, I couldn’t just say “Hey, you’re very pretty and make great coffee, so…thanks a lot!” but, after seeing them day in, day out, busting a nut in a hot sweaty kitchen, rushing to fill orders, getting harassed by customers, only ever getting grief because the order was wrong, I wanted, nay, HAD TO show some fucking gratitude.
So, I initiated Operation Shy Customer Shows Appreciation In A Fundamentally Awkward Way.
I bought a thank you card.
I took my time, gave it my very best handwriting, and made it clear which member of staff it was ( I can’t remember how now….I think she had a prominent tattoo or dyed hair or something distinctive ) and I posted it.
The very second the letter landed in the post box, Royal Mail went on strike.
What followed were 4 days of strike action, with reports of mail getting lost or discarded left, right and centre. Tales of disgruntled workers just dumping entire mail sacks into recycling. Indiscriminate.
Now, because I was shy and awkward, I left it Anon.
Moral of the story: I like coffee?
It’s not going to be until about midnight until I get internet again.
I actually might die.