It Really Is a Great Name

I was browsing through old "Top Ten Lists" from the Late Show, and particularily enjoyed this one. I also enjoyed the fact that instead of updating with a new post, I could simply copy and paste.

You can check out the entire archive of these lists at: http://www.cbs.com/latenight/lateshow/top_ten/archive/

Top Ten Greatest Books of All Time About Guys Named Steve
10. "War and Peace and Steve"
9. "The Seven Habits of Highly Successful Steves"
8. "The Grapes of Steve"
7. "The Steves of Wrath"
6. "Steve Grapes Steve Wrath Steve Steve"
5. "Men are From Mars, Women are From Venus, Steve is From Cleveland"
4. "Where's Waldo? Is He With Steve?"
3. "Time Life Mysteries of the Unknown, Volume VIII: 'Mysterious Guys Named Steve'"
2. "The Joy of Sex with Steve"
1. "The Bible" (King Steve Version)

Technically NOT Pornography

The photo session is now done, and once again, I feel a little emptier inside.

When I arrived at ACAD, everything was in the process of being set up. The studio it self was small, painted black, and dark except for the for the one heavily lighted corner I'd be posing in. There was no seperate change room as I'd hoped, but I could console myself that there was a stereo in the room so I could, at the very least, strip to music. But before I can remove an article of clothing, I'm told that they want a variety of shots, starting with ones in which I'm fully clothed. Thrilled at the ability to keep my pants on, I almost have fun. Of course, this attempt at enjoyment is quickly nullified by the poses I'm asked to do. The artists explain concepts like "negative space" to me, but I'm far to embarassed to listen. In no time at all I'm prancing around the room doing action shots, twirling sheets of fabric around the room, and contorting myself into effeminate poses.

And then the clothes start coming off. The process is done gradually in order to, I assume, keep me from being freaked out. First I lose my sweater, they take a few pictures. I lose my shirt, a few more pictures. Then the pants come off. That's when things start getting a little weird. I'm not going to go into detail, but lying on the ground without any clothes and being covered in rocks can kind of sum up the experience. Also, as a fun aside, the ground was dirty, cold, and littered with old nails and pushpins.

I'm guessing neither girl was overly impressed with what they saw, because before long the pants were back on. After some more shirtless posing we were finished. Altogether, 3 rolls of film and about a dozen digital pictures were taken. The best news came late in the shoot. To the relief of people all over the world the film with my underwear-clad and nude pictures wasn't working. There are absolutely no nude photos of me out there, and for that we can all be thankful.

As a reward for my efforts (and in lieu of pay,) the artists took me out for dinner. Before eating they developed the photos and seemed to enjoy critiquing them over our meal. Evidently, I'm the worst model ever and a good 90% of the pictures were at once deemed "total crap." To my added embarassment, the waitress was an especially attentive one, and consistently dropped by the table viewing the the displayed topless photos. The unhappy artists then drove me home, (complaining about the inconvienience and the price of gas the entire way.)

So, in the end, posing nude wasn't as much fun as I'd have hoped. I made an ass of myself, disgusted strangers with my physical appearence, and got two artists mad at me about my lack of modelling skill. Tensions were high in that little black room and the next day one of the artists (my ex), felt obliged to call me and apologize for being such a bitch.

Despite all this, I'd do it all again and recommend that others do the same. Whether this says something about my current mental state or not, I leave to the readers to decide.

As The Steve Turns...

There's nothing significantly worth writing about today, but I can at least update on all the little things.

1) Steamy Photos: Apparently I'm booked in the studio for my photos on Thursday, the 22nd. The closer I get to the date, the more I'm filled with dread. A big concern is the unveiling. Do I stand in front of the artists and strip? Do I strip in a change room and then walk out naked? Do I change into a robe and then remove it in a sultry fashion? This is a lose-lose situation. Does anyone out there have any suggestions? Also, although I'd never admit it to her face, one of the photographers is causing me some worry. As I mentioned earlier, we used to date. Normally, one would be expected to increase the overall comfort level, but that may not be the case. Our relationship was arguably based on equal contempt for others. This girl is perhaps my equal for sarcastic, hilarious cruelity. I wouldn't be surprised if this whole thing was an elaborate hoax to embarass me. Paranoid? Definitely. But even if that isn't the case, I'll be very vulnerable, a situation I am loathe to put myself into. I can only hope the room is well heated.

2) Karaoke Party: A party is in the works for the long weekend, but I'm fearful it will be a bust. The last such party was a spectacular failure. It seriously went as wrong as it possibly could. When a night goes from Rollicking drunken karaoke to watching Raw Deal starring Arnold Schwartzenegger, you now you've failled as a host. Of course I wasn't much of a host because all but one person cancelled. A bigger man than I would take responsibility for this travesty and admit that it was his poor planning that led him down such a road. Alas, I am a small, petty little man, so I'm accusing my rat-bastard friends.

3) Photogenicly impaired: It's my grandparent's 5oth Anniversary soon and, as a nice little present, my mom has bought them a nice frame with pictures of the family. The only problem is that no one seems to own a nice recent photo of me. Oh, there are recent photos, but we don't have much to choose from.... Basically, for the last couple years I've looked goofy. (Incedently, I looked pretty goofy from ages 4 to17 as well. There was really only a 2 or 3 year period where I looked decent.)

Steve Goes Gay Clubbing? Fabulous!

I have mixed feelings about clubbing. At first glance, one wouldn't think any problem could arise. Music, dancing, women. And alcohol. What could go wrong? Well, it's the fine print that kills you. The music? Horrendous top 40 hits. The dancing? Impossible when there's such little room. The women? Ugh. The alcohol? Actually, the alcohol's okay. The thing is, this is all forgivable. I mean, I'm going to be drunk right? The delightfully dehabilitating effects of the booze do an effective job of glossing over the lesser aspects of the experience. In the end, whenever friends invite me along, I go, I have fun, and I wake up regretting the entire experience. A pretty standard night for me, really.

Obviously, some clubs are better than others. I like to think of myself as a pretty open-minded guy. I'm always up for trying something new. So when some friends suggested I go with them to a place they'd been going to for awhile, I thought nothing of it. Some of these friends are homosexual. So was the club.

We started at a gay karaoke bar. No matter how good of karaoke you've seen, I can guarantee you that karaoke is better. Gay guys can sing damn good. I wouldn't have believed it personally. I mean, it''s the biggest stereotype imaginable, right? But it's true. The drinks were also amazing. My drinking career has been plagued with an embarassing love of fruity drinks. While my friends are slamming back the whisky, I'm slamming back a Long Island Iced tea. Here, my drinking habit were encouraged. I've been told the prices were really great too, but I wouldn't really know. I didn't have to buy a drink all night. Once it became clear I was straight, I became the centre of attention. I had an entourage by the end of the night. Memebrs of this entourage invite my group and I to join them at a club where a drag show was going on after the bar closed. All in all, a fun night. By the end, I got several proposals, lots of free drinks, a few fashion tips, and the owner said I would never have to wait in line or pay cover again.

Surviving the experience is easier than one may think. I'm comfortable with the lifestyle, so it wasn't to hard to adjust. For the trickier parts, a healthy dose of denial got me through okay. When I guy would hug me I'd think, "well this is just a bro-hug. He doesn't mean anything by it." When my ass would be grabbed constantly I'd think, "boy, it must be crowded in here." When that same hand would linger a decidedly uncomfortable length of time I'd laugh to myself nervously and think, "that poor guy must not realize what he's doing. How embarassing for him." Survival was made much easier by the extreme sense of flattery I felt. It was a huge ego boost. Guys were telling me how funny, kind, and good looking I am. Sure, they were just trying to get in my pants, but it was still nice to hear.

In summary: The music? Great! The dancing? Good, although pretty awkward. The alchol? Stupendopus? The women? All lesbians, and the few straight girls there thought I was gay. So obviously the whole thing wasn't perfect. Whatever. It's still better than Cowboys.

A Sneak Peek Into My Life

People keep wanting to know more about me. "How can one man be so totally awesome?" they ask. I just shrug and smile. Some people are just born destined for great coolness.

Take tonight for example. It's 4:30 in the morning, I'm alone, bored, and hungry, and I decide to update my blog. Unfortunately, I have no new things to say. So I'm awake at 4:30 and pointlessly writing a blog.

Some people may fail to see the inherent awesomeness in the above paragraph. That's why they'll never be as radical as I am.

A Distinct Lack of Clothing

Soooooo...... I've been asked to model. While not wearing any clothes. Totally nude. Yeah.

An ex-girlfriend of mine with whom I am still friends has asked me to pose for an art project she's planning. After brief consideration and weighing the pros (of which there are very few,) and the cons (of which there are ridiculously many,) I agreed. Obviously, this is a huge mistake.

First, the artistic medium here is not paint, but rather the harsh and unforgiving mistress of photograhy. My physical imperfection can't be glossed over or reinterpreted. The camera is going to be stuck with what I've got. (Also, nude photograhy brings up many negative pornographic connotations for me, which I'd prefer not to think about.) Self-esteem issues aside, I know I don't look good naked. Pretty much no one does. Certainly no guy does. Guys are very..... lumpy. No matter what, I'm going to look utterly ridiculous.

Secondly, people are going to see this. If it was just the artist, I could live with it. Unfortunately, this is an art project. Her friends are going to see this (some of whom are also my friends.) Her parents will see this. Some weird artsy people I've never even met are going to see this. This is going to come back and haunt me.

Finally, nude modelling is a lot of work. (Readers may want to skip this section. I'm not going to be graphic or anything, but some of what I will discuss is going to fall under the "Too Much Information" heading.) It's been sunny out the last few weeks and I've inadvertantly acquired a tan. There may be a need prior to these photos to make this into a full-body tan. I really don't want to have to do this. Also, there is concern about whether.... trimming might be necessary. Nothing ridiculous of course, but a some minor styling may be required. I REALLY don't want to do this.

Nevertheless, I'm still planning to go through with it. At this point, it's like a I almost have something to prove. And no matter how it all turns out, it'll be one hell of an adventure, right? The way I see it, at this point in my life I should be doing crazy stuff. I'm at the rare point in life where I've got a whole bunch of opportunities, but no major responsibilities. This is the time that I should be making memories. I also like to think that I'm doing this mostly to help a friend out. My friends do a lot for me, (well, not really. But they put up with a lot from me.) so I want to to help em out whenever I can.

And seriously, isn't this a great story to have under my belt?

Don't Drink And Write

So much for updating everyday.

To be fair, though, I WOULD have updated last night, but I was slightly inebriated. I'm of the firmest belief that when under the influence of alcohol one shouldn't drive, practice archery, or write anything down. Any of those would just be asking for heartbreak.

I know that an excess of drinking isn't a very good excuse for not writing, but get used to it. I have the feeling it's going to come up a lot.

Fame and Fortune Through Blogging

Well, the inevitable has happened. After years of missing the trend, I've caught up. That's right : Steve is blogging.

How can this happen? It's been well established that I have little interest in blogs. I haven't kept a journal since high school, and it was just to angsty to be described with a straight face. Furthermore, I have little to write about. So how can I justify this new hobby? Simply put, I owe it all to my heavenly muse; someone who is smart, funny, beautiful, and sums up everything that is good and right in the world. Myself. To deprive the world of my thoughts and blatantly offensive opinions would be an almost criminal act.

Okay, the real reason is one of my friends asked me to.

But none of that's important. What IS important will be the chronicles of my fascinating and inspiring (read: self-absorbed and anticlimactic,) adventures.