I Want to Be in Playboy

I was at work the other day sitting in the swivel chair, putting painter's tape over the naughty bits in March's issue of Playboy.

Not because I have some sort of repressed sexuality or am a feminazi but as a joke to send to my friend Kelly. However, I'm not especially interested at casually looking at naked pictures of women because, well, I have what they have and can just look down my shirt or pants or get in the shower or whatever. If I want to get really elaborate, I can put on some lingerie and roll around on my bed. I'm a photographer I can take pictures of myself and look at them and still get the same reaction. Well, not the same. I would actually be creeped out that I just did that and then looked at them, trying to turn myself on by looking at pornographic pictures of myself. You get the point. These girls don't have anything I don't see everyday except some help from a team of makeup artists, an airbrush, the most expensive camera system ever and let's not forget the power of Photoshop. Yeah, I have that too. Tits, hips, vagina, beautiful hair, Photoshop. All beautiful things.

But I digress.

It took me my whole shift to put the tape on the girlies when I could have done it in like an hour (we get customers in there who like to paw things and then leave, saying they'll come back. If I were more sensitive I would cry that they didn't buy the $450 vaporizer, but mostly I just turn on my cynicism there and save my cupcake sweetness for when I'm out the door) because I really was reading the articles. I got sucked in. Just like when you are packing to move and you're wrapping your dishes in newspaper and you start reading the comics or old articles and it takes you hours to pack your kitchen.

I have decided two things. 1) I am going to consider subscribing to Playboy and then reading the articles. Once I am done I will give the magazine to my guy friends, rotating fairly amongst them. Or just giving it to whomever I deem deserves it the most. OR pitting them against each other. Although if they really wanted it, they could just buy it and possibly they already have a subscription but I know my neighbors like my Rolling Stone that I hate so I would just give it to them. They are down the hall and plus it would be fun to roll it up and leave it between the jam and the doorknob. Ahh porn in public. Either way, I would pass on the nudity to someone who would love it more than I. 2) I am definitely going to find a way to weasel my way into getting my writing into Playboy. This is one of my new goals. It joins the old goals of finding a pair of yellow galoshes, eating fish and chips on a waterfront in England, meeting Andrew Bird, feeding a tangerine to a crow and drinking milk directly from a chrome milk truck.

I have unconciously developed a habit of taking pictures at concerts I go to lately and then posting them on the bands' Myspace. Mostly they are abstract unless I get a really good one of the band, which is hard because of the damn crowd and you know, security who gets pissed. I'm trying to be grassroots and I think if I go these odd routes I will find my foot in some surprising door. I'm starting to get into galleries and I'm a medium fish in a fairly small pond right now, which I'm very proud of. If you'd told me a year ago this is what I would be doing now, I would have told you to stop drinking so much rubbing alcohol. However, as I danced my ass off one night in a fake mustache, I realized that, sure I've got some things going on that need to be dealt with, but for the most part I'm the happiest I've ever been. The other things that still need to come along like yellow galoshes and my own big time gallery show, well, they'll show up when they are supposed to.

For now, I want to be in Playboy.