Sunday, November 09, 2003

prize winning photo I thought I might get a prize winning photo if I got this windsurfer and this pelican crossing paths in their repective modes of transportation.  The pelican was obviously better able to handle the gale like winds. It kind of reminds me of this local photo contest I once entered into after I got a nice 35mm camera.  It was a nature photo contest, so I ventuerd out all day in a canoe to get just the perfect photo to win this contest and begin my career as the newest Ansel Adams.  I canoed for hours and hours snapping photos of gnarled trees and reposing cranes.  But I wasn't sure that I had taken my prize winning photo until the end of the day when I got this shot of a beautiful white egret just as he (or she) was flying in front of the setting Florida sun.  When I got the picture delveloped I was sure I had done it.  There was a beautiful palette of dusk colors and the frozen moment of grace when the egret's outstretched wings embraced the sun.  Not to mention palm trees and passing boats, etc. Well, my hopes of photographic glory were dashed when I showed up at the nature photo opening reception.  I went right to the first place award.  No egret in front of the sun.  Just some trees in the morning fog.  Second place? Nope, an alligator on a rock. Third? Nope. Honorable mention? Nope. Damn, I couldn't even find my photo anywhere. Finally, I asked one of the photo contest people if they knew what happened to my wonderful egret picture.  "Oh, I know where it is," the lady said, and led me around the room.  Finally, she pointed to a spot on one of the portable walls that was ankle level at the highest.  There was my magnificent egret, soaring by peoples shoe laces and toes. "Oh, thanks," I said. 10:26:37 PM    comment []

florida postcard (almost) Anyway, I was on my way to take my daughter and her friend to the North Shore Park before I ran into John Vitale. Down at the park it was very overcast and blustery.  As you can see, windsurfers were having a field day--or a wind day. We had picked up some grub from Taco Bell.  Mariel led her friend to some secret tree to eat their tacos, while I stood in solidtude eating my burrito, trying not to let my drink and food blow way. Except for the lack of sun, it was a very Florida post card scene.  Schools of dolphins went by (too quickly to catch their fleeting dorsal fins).  There were schools of wild parrots, and then of course the windsurfers and boaters. 9:47:39 PM    comment []

john anthony vitale, inventor of the instant mullet This is John Anthony Vitale III.  He's one of the most prolific muralists and designer's in the Tampa Bay Area.  I worked for him for a few years helping with murals and faux finnishing.  I had a lot of fun working for the Vitale Brothers and learned a lot of stuff about painting, but I never made much money.  Probably my biggest claim to fame with the Vitale Brothers was being the Instant Mullet model.  John invented this gag gift that enabled anyone to sport a mullet once they strapped this little tuft of hair around their head.  What made the instant mullet so authentic was that the tuft of hair was attached to some really rediculous looking 80s sunglasses--those orange, reflective Oakley's that used to say "thermonuclear protection."  I dont' know about other states, but in Florida mullets are extremely popular with dudes who do construction or lawn services and eat those dried out hot dogs at circle k. Anyway, John actually sold this product to Spencer's gifts.  They ordered a few thousand and sent them to stores all over the united states and around the world.  John had every reason to hope that he would be a millionaire when the Instant Mullet became a best seller, like the Billy Bob Teeth, or plastic dog doo.  But right after John shipped off his mullets, 19 terrorsits flew jet planes into the World Trade Center and suddenly America wasn't in much of a joking mood.  Spencer's didn't reorder the Instant Mullet, and John didn't become a millionaire, and I didn't become the famous mullet model.  Oh well. 8:15:44 PM    comment []

sad My "ex" is coming to get her stuff tonight.  I put it all out behind the house so she wouldn't have the opportunity to get nuts and break things again. Despite all the pain and aggravation she has caused me, it's still a sad sight to see all of someone's life possessions heaped out on a patio at night.  Then, when it's a girl you were making love to and telling her you wanted to marry her....its just sad. The girl has moved at least a half dozen times in the past year.  Putting some stuff in storage, losing and damaging items along the way.  It just doesn't seem like any way to live, and I don't wish it on anybody. 7:13:49 PM    comment []

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My girl, Mariel wanted me to shoot her in some amazing action poses.  Here she is jumping from a moving swingset. This might be how Johnny Knoxville started out.  You never know. Sometimes I think "Jackass" was just the type of show I should have been on or creatied if I'd stuck with my 'making wacky videos'  back in highschool.  But I really don't like being electricuted or thrown down stairs or havig shit thrown on me.  I have a strange mix of courage and phobias.  I once walked across an 18" wide girder on top of the Skyway bridge, some 300feet(?) of the water, but if I give a blood sample at the doctor's office I will more than likely pass out. 12:34:32 PM    comment []

This is a shot from my night walk with Mariel to the water front.   If I look tired it's because I only got one hour's sleep the night before. The previous night,  I went to this Sports Bar called Ferg's.  I saw this cute girl sitting at the bar with her friend with no guys around.  When the cute girl's friend went to the bathroom, I took a couple gulps of my beer and made my move. "Excuse me, do you mind if I hit on you while your friend is away," "Sure," the cute girl said.  For some reason, this is one of my favorite pick-up lines eventhough it never gets me anywherre.  The cute girl even joked back with the cliche, "so do you come here often?"  "Not really," I said.  Then things went south quickly.  I ran out of things  to say.  Then the next thing I knew the cute girl was looking a different direction than me, talking to her friend who was back from the bathroom.  The music was so loud that I couldn't hear what they were saying, and couldn't really chime in.  I was just standing there next to these girls with nothing to do or say, feeling stupider and stupider.  Fianlly, the cute girl went over to the DJ and started talking to him from a very intimate distance, laughing, putting her hand on his stomach as she rejoined.  She seemed to really like being around the DJ. After a minute or so of watching this I edged over to the cute girl's friend.  (Oh, in my brief conversationI fiound out that the cute girl's name was Natalie, and her friend's name was Melissa.  Melissa wasn't quite as cute, but she was still cute and she had a cool tattoo of a  moon/sun yin yang thing on the small of her back. "Cool tatoo," I said. "Thanks," she said.  "I've got another one.  You wanna see?"  "Sure," I said. Then she pulled her jeans and her panties down, just below her already low waistline revealing somesort of little heart tattoo.  Suddenly, I was much more enthusiastic about the cute gir's friend.  I realized that she was drunker than the cute girl and had perhaps a lower self-esteem.  She let me give her a shoulder and back-rub.  "Does that feel good?" I asked.  "Yes," she said.  "Hey, you seem like a really sweet, fun girl," I said.  "Can I get your number?"  "Okay," she said.  We borrowed a pen from the bar tender and she wrote her number on one of my business cards.  She had to write it three times because the first two tries weren't very legible.  I didn't even think to try to take her home that night because I was already too drunk and had already done coke (the anti-viagra) and her freind seemed like she would fight me tooth and nail. Anyway, by four in the afternoon the next day I felt decent enough to call Melissa.  I wasn't ready to go out again, but at least I could make plans for going out, perhaps sunday.  My friend Matt was over putting on the Matrix 2 (which I had walked out of when it was in theatres) and he went to check his e-mail while I called  this girl. I called two or three times and the phone just rang and rang and rang.  No answer, no voicemail, nothing. (LIke the old days).  Then I tried one more time and this very gruff sounding man answered. "What?!" the gruff man said (sort of Gary Busey sounding). "Is Melissa there?" trying to sound like a nice young man with his hair neatly combed to the side, holding a boquet of fresh flowers. "No." the gruff man said.  "She won't be back till later." "Well, can you take a message," I said. "This is her father, what do you want?" This threw my already frazzled, hangover mind into a tailspin. "Well, I was just talking to her last night and now I'm giving her a call back."  A basic explannation of the situation was the best I could do. "TALKING TO HER ABOUT WHAT?" the Gary Busey father of the cute girl's friend said.  Talking to her about fucking her is what we both were thinking.  But I didn't say that.  I just hung up the phone and watched the Matrix 2.  It wasn't so bad, I guess. 11:22:32 AM    comment []

© Copyright 2003 Mark Michaels. Last update: 12/1/2003; 7:04:55 PM.