Paris Nemesis

Brigitta? Pregzilla? Nooo waaay! I get the news as I am preparing my trip to Paris to celebrate the wedding of said Brigitte (Bri-Bri d’Amour) and Christian, both university professors in different European countries. They began dating the previous year and while some may consider holy matrimony perhaps a bit hasty at this stage, you need to understand that their pillow talks consist mainly of discussions about the merits of Wittgenstein’s “Tractatus Logico-philosophicus.” In other words, if they don’t marry each other, who else will marry them?

Not too sound crassly unintellectual, but if my date brings up Wittgenstein over sushi and a mojito, the chances of subsequent intimate conversation appear close to nil in my book. “Philosophical Investigations” perhaps, but the “Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus”? immediate elimination from the dating pool! Poof!

Wittgenstein and Bribri, Pillow Talk

Two weeks before the trip, I receive an email from my friend Lucy. “Brigitte’s wedding is delayed. She has to stay in the hospital until the birth of the baby. No need to worry.” The birth of WHAT? Seriously? The problem with living so far from where you grew up is that you tend to miss crucial tidbits of information here and there… such as a friend’s 6 month pregnancy!

So Brigitte has decided to delay her wedding for purely egotistical health reasons. Some people’s narcissism knows no boundaries! I will still go to Paris and have a party. Off to Paris!!!

On the evening the wedding would have taken place, we visit Brigitte at the hospital.

Le Gang de l’Hopital Cochin

Brigitte, while a bit on the pale side, appears in good spirits. And quite voluminous, if I may say. The man sitting on the right is David, my nemesis.

David, most of the time, is an insufferable human being. On the above photograph, David is not offering advice on how to take the picture, he is telling me how to take it. Is David a photographer? Er, no, but David always thinks he knows better than anyone else which is generally MY prerogative. He is the only person I know to have purchased two $8,000 Canon Mark III in one week time (because he left the first one on a table in his New York hotel and oh it got stolen!) How ridiculous is THAT?!?

Anyway, David is my nemesis because he suspended me to a coat hanger one evening at school when we were kids and let’s say that I had to wait for help in order to get back to the floor and missed my bus. All the other people photographed above are very nice.

My excellent friend Lucy once told David: “David, when you talk, I always expect something really profound, then, nothing of the sort ever comes out.”

To which David replied: “Lucy, with you, I never expect anything and I’m rarely disappointed.”

While David entertains the group with crazy lady stories, I pull Brigitte to the side and shoot a few pregnancy images. Europe does not have a tradition of calling on family photographers. When I explain to Bribri that in the US, pregnant women traditionally pose in studios, she laughs her head off: “So, let me get this straight: women go to the studio, undress, wrap themselves in some kind of drapery and pose with their puffy face, their swollen legs and the 40 lbs they’ve gained? Hee hee hee…”

I finally manage to pin her to a tree for five minutes. She’ll thank me one day.

Indecision, Indecision…

Time to leave Brigitte to her hospital bed and decide how to handle the rest of the evening. Stagnation ensues. With a group bigger than two, decisions can result in long periods of intense discussions.

What’s next?

Tired of the endless tergiversations, I corner Sabine and Marco for an impromptu session. They live in Milan with their three kids.

Marco e Sabine

For the longest time, Sabine headed a hamam (Turkish Bathhouse.) I don’t think any funny business happened there but I could be mistaken. Perhaps not enough funny business happened since she left the operations.

Italian Amore

Since Marco is an authentic specimen of the Italian race, we decide unanimously that he will have the great privilege to cook pasta for us that night at David’s who lives in the neighborhood.

More walking… About that book “French women don’t get fat”, I could have written it and could have saved the publishing company many many Euros. It would have been a one sentence book: French women walk. No gas guzzling monster, just a pair of trendy shoes and strut your style. Herein lies the secret.

Mine is Bigger

The minute we get to his place, David takes out the big gun (the second Mark III, the one that did not get stolen – yet) and launches the “Mine is bigger” routine.

A very well-connected highfalutin Parisian attorney, David dates the weirdest women. A plastic snake adorns the doorstep of his otherwise very tasteful apartment. The ridicule snake protects him from a stalking ex with a reptile phobia.

Julie und Ingo

Ingo and his “Julee” live in Düsseldorf. Ingo’s recurrent theme is sperm competition. The argument invariably follows a declaration from David regarding his own insatiability. Ingo is also known to be very cheap and we make fun of him any chance we get.

Marco

David

David is also the only man I know whose ex threatened suicide, then attempted to off herself with… homeopathic medication. That’s one hell of a health-conscious suicide attempt, if you ask me! It would also takes months… Or the content of a whole pharmacy! In the end, it did not work very well.

I may give the man a lot of grief but, with time, I am learning to appreciate him. An evening around him is never boring. It’s just difficult to be able to place a word in the conversation David is having with himself.

Dide

Didier is currently co-producing the new reggae CD of Bako Hiriz.Band. Fun fun CD. Please listen to it here.

“Nous avons les moyens de vous faire parler!”

It is late in the evening. Only Didier and David remain. On the above photograph, David interrogates Didier.

Didier and his Thinker

Didier drew The Thinker for David more than 20 years ago. It still adorns the walls of his kitchen. Didier says it’s the only valuable piece of art in David’s whole apartment.

David’s feet

Pretty much, when you start photographing people’s feet, this is THE sign you need to put the camera away and go to bed. And so I did.

My friends should not get married more often.

Starbucks

Not everybody owns a large collection of Starbucks barrist-art cups.

I might be the only collector in the world.

Drinking a lot of coffee is a pre-requisite for a large collection.

note: Barrista artists are not barris-tarts.

double note: do they have Tsarbucks in Russia?

Enemas

When I was 10, my parents took me to the hospital for an enema. The zoo would have been nicer.

The doctor and nurses had to subdue me while I was screaming:

“I have no bum! I have no bum!”

They did not believe me.

Doctors always have posterior motives.

note: I fear I may have become an enema combatant.

double note: for cleansing coffee enemas, I recommend a drip, no whip and an extra shot.

Free Advice

Some people in my neighborhood offer FREE advice!

What are they trying to accomplish?

Tomorrow I’ll sit next to them and offer free-er advice.

My more better free advice services will include more perfect and more unique advice for less than nothing.

Irregardless.

note: I asked “the counselor” if I could take his picture and he took my request under advisement.

double note: advice and advisement are free but advisement takes a very long time.

triple note: this photograph is not from me.

Abs

I feel reason-ably ab-normal.

note: I generally fight abtraction with abstension.

double note: I think I abstan way too much.

note to planetross: consider yourself outcheesecaked… I always try to stay ahead of the six-pack.

note to Alan: Ha! Ha!

Tattoos

Tattoos are dumb.

10 years ago, my sister got a lion tattooed on her butt. Now it’s a Shar-Pei.

note: I’m very happy she did not have a Shar-Pei tattooed on her butt 10 years ago.

double note: I am a proud virgink. No tramp stamp on this chickie!

triple note: what do you call a woman with tattoos on both breasts? Tit-Tat-Two.

Car Plates

When I moved to Texas, I was told I could have vanity plates or personalized plates.

I picked personalized plates.

As a photographer, I asked if I could have my head on a plate.

The vehicle registration lady replied I already had too much on my plate.

note: Texas has the lowest vanity plate penetration… which is amazing considering all the vanity and all the… ah nevermind!

double note: click here for a translation of my personalized plate unless you work at the Department of Public Safety, in which case click here.

triple note: I like to take rail-road trips.

Cougar

My friend Dorin is a cougar. She prey-dates a lot.

note: she may be a couga’ but she ain’t a cheeta’!

double note: Dorin likes to be in touch with her outer child.

Save the Cheeseleader. Save the World.

A few weeks ago, Pat Coakley from Single for a Reason wrote about seeing the world through someone else’s eyes. planetross (“I am the Cheese”) picked me as a victim and he penned a very funny post. Being ridiculously impulsive, most of the time to my detriment, I volunteered to take a peak at his cardboard world through my rather deficient eyes.

That was a typical example of being ridiculously impulsive. See?

For the next few days, nathaliewithanh I’m not; I am now cheesewithanh. Haha!

note: I do not intend to fly as high as the man himself. That would be impossible. Waist-size is probably as lofty goal as I can attain.

double note: standing up, waist level is probably where I reach him anyway.

A Distinguished Affair… Not so much!

The last time Hunang and James hosted a dinner affair, the conversation had degenerated to lows rarely attained in the annals of parties. Hunang claimed not to understand what had happened. He had laid the finest China on a delicate tablecloth . After all, one must hold oneself to certain standards when heirloom porcelain adorns a table.

This time around, things would be different. Breaking with tradition, Hunang and James decided to prepare dinner at Miss T. and Brandon’s house. Perhaps a change of venue would elevate the debate to finer subjects such as philosophy or literature.

The table was beautiful

The dog had been confined to the yard.

Hunang was cooking up a storm in the kitchen

Bill stole Dorin’s sweater but he did not mean to.

In the living room, the guests were discussing very mundanely former living arrangements. Bill explained that he had lived at the Ritz… The Oram Ritz that is, an 8 unit residence in a beat up Dallas neighborhood. Cory asked him if there was a doorman and Bill told us about the feral cat doorman which was not very effective as far as concierges go. We then proceeded to the table. It seemed things would be different this time.

The subject of the Olympics was brought up, how male and female swimmers looked exactly the same in their suits and huge Matrix goggles and how they would kick our asses all the same whatever they were. We wondered if the regular gymnasts were making fun of the trampoline folks. The consensus was that they undoubtedly were.

Miss T. explained that she was mind-boggled by the amount of tiny countries that participated to the Olympics and wished she could have crashed the opening ceremony parade by representing a bogus nation. The Oompa-Loompa Overseas Territories. She imagined herself marching proudly in her striped candy red and white sport uniform.

You could see that Brandon, Miss T.’s husband, was perhaps not 100% convinced that the evening was heading towards loftier horizons. He was scratching his head. Da wife was feelin’ pretty feisty…

Dorin and Angela broke into an impromptu rap.

Bill talked about Fergie from the Black-eyed Pees, how she always spelled something in every song and… how she had peed herself once during a concert.

Oh dear! Singers peeing themselves! The party had officially broken.

Cory knew it. 15 minutes into the dinner and a point of no return had already been reached.

Love me some Pucca

Meanwhile Miss T. has gone into a Pucca delirium… Joined by Bill.

Love me some Pucca too

Cory discovers that he shares a birthday with Angela on September 12th, and inexplicably breaks into a celebration dance.

Bill attempts a Madonna.

Bill’s Madonna sends Miss T. over the edge.

That’s when Angela decides to sing the entire “I Like Big Butts” song. Kudos sista’!

Miss T. is very amused. Brandon hangs in there.

Bill decidedly breaks the jovial mood to tell us about the father he never knew growing up. He tells us about the time he visited him in Waco in February 2003, the second time they had ever met. As Bill prepared to leave, his dad hugged him and whispered to his ear that he had put a little something in the trunk for him. How thoughtful!

Bill drove home feeling he was building a foundation with his old man and loving it. He was so emotional he was crying. It was raining. He suddenly remembered about his father’s gift and, curious, pulled off the road. He slowly opened the trunk. In the middle of the compartment: a VHS tape. A Girls Gone Wild tape. A previously viewed Girls Gone Wild Tape… Have I mentioned Bill plays for the other team?

And just like that, when we thought we were safe, we weren’t.

That’s when we notice Brandon’s absence.

Brandon is gone to the store to buy raspberries for the cheesecake. “I don’t know what happened. They are the same raspberries that have been on the list since 11 am this morning!” Miss T. explains with a tiny point of gentle exasperation in the voice. She further explains that there will be no cheesecake for anyone until Bryan does the Beyonce. I think that Bryan likes to be begged because it is always such a big ordeal of huge proportions to make him do it.

We must liquor him up. The tequila is brought to the table. Things are getting serious. We all want Miss T.’s made from scratch cheesecake and if we have to carry the man to the dance floor, we will.

The man drinks up but needs further assistance. We send in Angela to lure him to shake his booty.

“You’re a fine woman! Back that ass up! From the East side to the West side!”

Finally! “Come on Bryan! Drop it like it’s hot!”

Holla atcha boys!

Bill: “You will look back at this with affection.”

Bryan: ” Do you have a scrapbook of regrets too?”

Bill explains that Cory and Leon are his oldest friends… In terms of long he has known them AND how old they are. He said he would have been sad to leave them behind but that he almost had to when he was laid off years ago. He had briefly entertained moving to Asheville, North Carolina. Hearing the news, his mother had said: “Oh no, you don’t want to live there. It has been eaten up by the queers and the Wiccans!”

Bill’s mother seems pretty high maintenance. He had failed to call her for a week and she left him the following message on his phone: “I don’t know where you are. I don’t know what you’re doing or who you’re with. Don’t call me. I’ll call you.” I guess that showed him!

Brandon has come back with the precious raspberries. Beyonce out of the way, we are all waiting for the dessert.

Orgasm on a Plate

Bill: “Well, don’t these raspberries just MAKE the dessert?”

Cory: “Ooh they taste as if they had just been bought!”

On our end of the table things are going pretty well.

On the other side, things seems more China appropriate.

They are probably discussing philosophy or literature.

On our side of the table, Bill blows into Oscar’s nose.

Angela is singing “Big Butts” to Oscar.

Bill pretends Cory is Oscar

Bryan shows love to Angela

Cory is dancing

Miss T. is dancing AND singing

Dorin and Oscar are smooching on the couch

Angela is booty-dancing Leon in the kitchen

James and Hunang wonder where they went wrong once again.

After all, the evening has just started…

note: in the course of the evening, 7.5 bottles of wine, 1 bottle of champagne, 1/2 bottle of tequila, 1/2 bottle of scotch, 1/2 bottle of Crown, and and unknown amount of vodka were consumed (but not by me.)

note deux: you know you are pushing the blogging envelope when you show up at a party with a camera, paper and a pen.

note trois: some names have been changed to preserve the anonymity of above-referenced drunks.

note quatre: some comments have been censored.

note cinq: after this post, my next venture will be my “World through the Eyes of planetross” that emanated through a Single for a Reason challenge (I’m not quite through preparing for this because the man thinks not like a regular human being.) I will then switch to a one photograph a day format in order to cope with my workload and fight the blogging addiction which is totally eating my clock.

note six: I hope they’ll forgive me.

note sept: no animals were injured in the making of this blog.