Also By Popular Demand

If you head over to Paul Chenoweth’s blog, you can see a nice picture of my hair–I’m the girl in braids next to the girl with really awesome hair (this may have something to do with Brittney’s willingness to pay for a good haircut)–and one of my boob.

I first noticed my boobs sneaking into pictures when I got my pictures from Mississippi developed and one of them from Robert Johnson’s cemetery had a strange large orb in the corner.

I’m trying hard to remain anonymous, but this is made more difficult by the fact that my boobs apparently want to be stars.

By Popular Demand! The Hooker Story

Like all the best stories, this one has a little bit more depth than it would seem at first glance. The pertinent thing is that this is actually my second hooker incident.

The first one was like this. It was early in the morning one early fall day and, as always, I was walking my dog down Acklen Park (don’t stalk me or I will train my dog to bite your knees right off) when a man in a car slowed way down as he rolled by. He looked over at me and I at him and then he popped his passenger side car open. I leaned over to see if he needed help or was lost or something–feeling a little braver than perhaps I should have, because I was walking a sixty pound pit bull–when he (the guy, not the dog) asked, “How much for a date?”

Seriously, I’ve thought about that morning many times and maybe I’m just not an imaginative enough lover, but I just can’t picture what kinds of sex acts would be possible in a car filled with any guy, me, and my dog. My dog is an anti-aphrodisiac. In the car, she jumps all over, she drools, she whines if the car is stopped too long, she licks strangers and tries to find some way to stand on them and beat them with her tail while also trying to put their faces in her mouth, and she has to bark ferociously at all other dogs who try to get anywhere near the car, even if that means she has to leap from the front seat to the back seat and back repeatedly to do it.

How, America, would sex with that going on work exactly?

But anyway, yesterday, I was driving down Murphreesboro Road looking for WKRN and I drove right past it. I turned around at the Waffle House, drove back, and managed to blow right past it again. This time, I turned down a little street with some kind of market at the corner, and there was a woman who looked to me, to be walking around in obvious distress.

I slowed down to see if she needed help, but then I noticed a gentleman in another car had also slowed down. She looked at me, looked at him, and back at me. He looked at me and gave me a polite smile, like “Ladies first” at which point I then realized that the woman’s distress was probably drug-related, not car problem related, and that she was, indeed, sizing up potential clients and I had driven by now, three times.


My Grandma Visits WKRN

Today, I spent the afternoon at WKRN, Channel 2. This was after I almost accidentally picked up a hooker and before I paid ten fucking dollars for four and a half gallons of gas.

How is it possible, America, that we should invade and conquer an oil-rich nation and I’m paying $2.16 for a gallon of gas? Why the hell would we conquer an oil-rich nation under false pretenses if not to have some fucking cheap gas? Seriously, pragmatically, you want to see people suddenly be okay about the war in Iraq, start having $.97 gas and most of America will not give a shit about weapons of mass destruction. Karl Rove, you’re supposed to be some evil genius. Get me some cheap gas.

Anyway, so I’m at WKRN to learn all about how to be a better vernacular news gatherer. Here are the notes I took from the afternoon:

  • The handicapped stall is the first one in the women’s bathroom. What a genius idea! Why isn’t it like that every place?
  • “The liberating power of self-expression.”
  • Hmm… news as reflection of the community. Do I buy that?
  • Don’t underestimate ambient sound.
  • Count to ten for each shot & it seems to give the eye a chance to comprehend it.
  • Don’t look with the camera.
  • Keep the camera on your shot while you look for the next one.
  • Remember that your eye sees things static, from scenario to scenario.

[These notes are even funnier when you realize that I don’t own a camera. They are completely inapplicable to me and yet, I still took them. I am a giant nerd.]

  • Thanks to WKRN, I have discovered that I look exactly like my grandma.
  • Tim Morgan is a cutie.

Yes, let’s spend a moment on these two. I was sitting there innocently trying to maintain my anonymity when, as they were discussing how to frame shots, they turned the camera towards all us Nashville bloggers and there was Brittney and Blake and Rex Hammock and all these folks and nestled in among them was my grandma D.

Yep, same big round features, same tendency to rest her hands on her boobs for no reason, same flighty way of holding her fingers out at the ends of her arms like little 4th of July sparklers waving in the evening breeze, same laugh same smile, same everything.

And it was me! Christ Jesus. I could not look any more like my grandma if I dressed only in her clothes.

How bad was it? How quickly am I becoming an 85 year old woman?

I spent the afternoon thinking–That Tim Morgan, he’s so cute and delightfully funny. I think I’ll set him up with one of my granddaughters.