Ants in my pants

Last weekend I did a shooting in the Botanic Gardens, the photographers name is Romeo and it’s not his artistic name. When you got a name like that you have be in the showbiz or in the prostitution sector, damn –Sector- sounds so governmental. It was so bloody hot that day and Romeo kept taking “backstadge” shoots, I will be like scratching my ass and he would scream “STEADY!”, me *pose* still with one hand scratching. The makeup artist was anorectic and shared her stories about the best way to loose the kilos, one meal per day but you might end up with acid problems…the whole team went to Pizza Hut afterwards and I still wonders if that was her first and only meal of that day.

I and the stylist shared a cab ride back and she’s been in the business quite long so there was a lot to bitch about. Models showing up for work late or drunk or both, the language barrier – Da(Russian) and Sim(Brazilian Portuguese) suddently becomes the universal words of this business, backstabbing photographers, fugly white guys with crappy agencies or even better, agencies that doesn’t even exist.

This weekend I went to Indonesia with a friend of mine without the boys, actually it was more like leave the ones at home tp get some new boys at some exotic island. We arrived Friday morning into the paradise and after 5 gin and tonic I realized how pathetic my life is, the only friends I got in Singapore is a 40 year something housewife and a 15 year old stylist that speaks like Norwegian rockabilly music. The weekend was basically; get up – gin and tonic – tennis – more gin and tonic –lunch – gt gt gt …. Throw in 5 packs of cigarettes there between and u got my perfect get away holiday.

In month I am going to Portugal, I wonder if they drink before noon. They must do, they basically consider wine as juice. Tropicana and vodka never tasted better in the morning.