The photographer of my photo shoot was the official photographer of Manchester United. Woke up at 5am Friday morning to shower and get downtown by 7am for my photoshoot. We met at the photographers studio to get ready before heading out to our location, and while I was getting my face painted (aka my makeup done) I listened to the stylist talk to the photographer about all of the crazy things he has done, including shooting for major magazines and winning an Emmy. The makeup artist kept repeating everything the photographer said to me in a low whisper, just to make sure I heard, but I guess my lack of sleep effected my excitement. Then, as I was looking at the titles of the books on his book shelves I noticed a book about Alex Ferguson. I asked the photog if he was a Man U fan, and he told me that he was their official photographer for three seasons. Whattttttt??? I might not give a shit about a lot of things I'm supposed to give a shit about in the modeling world, but I was instantly impressed. I talked to him about Rooney (his decision to stay at Man U and his trouble with prostitutes mostly) and the guy was shocked that I actually knew something about soccer other than the fact that David Beckham is married to a Spice Girl.
I had to run half a mile in platform boots to buy a pair of silver strappy shoes before my runway show. Went straight from photo shoot to runway show on Friday. Showed up (barely) on time for rehearsal only to learn that they had switched the four looks that I was going to be wearing and now needed me to wear silver shoes instead of black. Searched in my bag to find only one silver strappy show. Fuck. Not having the right shoes is a great way to not get booked again. Told them it must be in my car. Ran back to my car. No second silver shoe. Looked up on my iphone and found a Payless about a half mile away. Started running. Weaved in and out of people on the street, but made pretty good time. Found a pair of silver strappys for less than 20 bucks. Bought them, put the box under my arm like it as a football and started running back. Made it back just in time for rehearsal to start. Sweating like a pig. (Not very attractive) Changed into my first look. Walked down the runway one time in my new shoes. Came back to change. Was told that they were going to switch my outfit again. Didn't need the silver shoes anymore. Black shoes would work fine.
My dad got a little tipsy and almost dropped my brother's birthday cake on someone's head. From the runway show, I raced back home from the city and went straight to Everett and Tula's show. It was Everett's birthday on Friday. My parents got him a cake so that we could have everyone sing to him after they finished playing. My dad took advantage of the $25 all-you-can-drink deal and got a little tipsy. During their last song, he went running back to the bar to get the cake ready, then proceeded to carry the cake, lit with 27 candles, through the tables full of people. For some crazy reason, he hoisted the cake over his head and held it up as he walked. I guess he was worried people wouldn't see the flaming sheet moving through the dark bar? Whatever the reason, it was funny enough just to see him perform this stunt, but then, things got even better when he walked through the final two tables. The cake suddenly slide off the cardboard cutout plate he was carrying and for a moment appeared as it would would certainly fall directly on the head of the woman sitting innocently at the front table. Somehow, he managed to get a shoulder beneath the cake, bracing its fall and then recovering the cake, miraculously keeping all but two candles lit while he finished the walk to the stage as if nothing had happened. I almost peed myself laughing, especially because his black shirt was decorated with frosting and candle wax stains for the rest of the evening. I see where I get my gracefulness from.
Had a crazy dream during the middle of a late night conversation with Brad while we were laying in his bed cuddling. I was exhausted. I warned him that I was not going to be able to stay awake. Brad started reading me a letter he had written to his Uncle about me. It was incredibly nice, but it led to a conversation about us and where we were headed. I could feel myself struggling to stay awake. All of a sudden Brad asked me what I was talking about. What do you mean we should invite Obama and Trader Joe? It took me a minute to figure out that I was dreaming and that what I had just said made absolutely no sense what so ever. I spent a few seconds trying desperately to think of some way that I could convince him that I was not crazy, but I finally gave up and just started laughing and admitted that I must have been dreaming. Whoops. I'm pretty sure I'm not going to hear the end of that one for a while.
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