For legal reasons, I don’t photograph weddings myself, but I wonder how much this broad paid for her wedding dress?
Remember a while back when I posted this? Well there has been much confusion since. Many of you have inquired about me taking pictures of your lady friend but have shown concerns that you aren’t married to her. So let me make it perfectly clear:
Wife, Girlfriend or whoever the hell you’re banging, if you send her to me with an envelope of cash rest assured I will take her picture.
Here we are, jointly celebrating both Fat Tuesday (aka Pancake Tuesday) and International Women’s day on the SAME DAY! What exciting times we live in, especially for me personally as these are two of my favorite holidays. Just this past holiday season I came up with the idea of combining my favorite holidays (this year was Boxmas, where I waited to celebrate Christmas until the 26th, and did so by robbing a Best Buy with my buddy Psychs) into one day, and since the Calendar has done it for me today, I hereby decree that from this date forward today be known as…
Pancake Nipple Tuesday!
Why you ask? Well what is the first thing we all think of when we think of women? Nipples. And what’s the second thing? Make me some pancakes, woman. Why not celebrate both of these urges at once? And even though the entries on Urban Dictionary can’t seem to agree on the definition of a pancake nipple, I think we all know what it is. If you aren’t sure, here’s an example:
So how can you help spread the word? Simply click the Facebook Like button at the bottom of this post, or tweet this post with the link at the top!
Being a leap year baby, I generally only celebrate my birthday once every four years. This not only keeps me youthful, it allows me to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to myself which has always been a main priority for me. So as many of you probably saw on Twitter last night, I planned a nice little party of one, at home alone with a bottle of Jack and a few Vicodin’s.
And then my door buzzer rang.
So there were seven of my closest friends encouraging me to snap the fuck out of it and party with them. They brought cake, balloons, champagne, party favors, edible body paint, binoculars, a police siren, cap guns, candy bra and panties and Mardi Gras beads.
Then they took their clothes off. I have such great and wonderful friends. Who knew a birthday party could involve so many outfit changes?
And get this, they said they’d only stay if I took pictures of the nonsense. I didn’t mind, since that’s what I do. So here’s what happened *click*
We were the fore fathers of online celebrity masturbation.
We stayed up to ungodly hours of the night, avoided our school work, drank too much pop, ate too many cookies, hid too much porn… but we made god damned sure that every single photo of a female celebrity ended up in digital form, somewhere, long before magazines had web sites.
We carefully cut photos out of print magazines. And we debated on the merits of various desktop scanners. We argued about technique. We Gaussian Blurred side-boob’s and we Unsharp Masked thighs.
We bought expensive video equipment, because we understood that owning a SVHS/Laserdisc/DVD player would be the only way that we could get a clear screen capture of Kari Wuhrer’s bush.
We spoke breathlessly, endlessly when we found out that one of our favorite celebrities may or may not be showing her tits in her new movie.
We understood the importance of a quality up-skirt.
We set up servers, we distributed files, and we ran our own system of government. We had an easy to follow set of rules, and a societal hierarchy. We wasted most of the hours of our formative years waiting until someone else typed something.
We knew what the internet could/would do long before most people.
We jerked off. Then we jerked off. Then we jerked off some more.
Melt_Down says what’s up.