So, I had the day off of work (Thank God, 'cause it was a looooooong week) and I figured it would be a good time to finally book an appointment for headshots. If you're not in "the biz" (and, you know, I'm not), headshots are basically your calling card. I figured that with the Diddy show premiering in a few weeks (and that can of worms is opening up in about 24 hours with the debut of a flashy new trailer that I'm simultaneously dreading and absurdly excited about), I should have some sort of professional pictures of myself taken just in case someone wants to contact me or whatever, fine. People need to know what you look like and need promotional pictures, and I also didn't want to be the only one with some grainy and badly lit facebook picture on the famous VH1 friends website they're setting up for the show. So I get hooked up with a photographer and I go to the studio on West 38th (a grimy, smelly, loud part of the city that I really hate), pony up the $100 and spend about 90 minutes taking pictures. Now, here's the thing with me and pictures. I'm not photogenic. I'm just...not. I have these big eyes, a lantern-shaped head, and summertime in NYC sometimes gives me the distinct appearance of someone who has replaced their facial moisturizer with a bucket of Crisco. Anyway, I have this theory about goodlooking vs. sexy. You can be either sexy or good looking, but very few can be both. On my good days, I can possibly be sexy, but never really good-looking. In my younger and more, shall we say, blunt days, I told a friend that he was good-looking but not really sexy and was honestly confused that he got offended by it. Either way, that's my theory and I'm sticking to it.
Anyways, this guy was so damn good, I managed to get about 35 good pictures out of 120. Percentage wise, that's around 25%, so if this were a test I'm pretty damn sure that's an F on my part. Maybe I should take modeling school or something. I swear, I kept hearing the voice of Tyra Banks in my head, coaching those hungry little girls on America's Next Top Model ("Smile with your EYES." "Don't do this, do THIS"). Who knows, maybe she knows something I don't, 'cause that girl will give FACE all day. I must admit though, it was fun, and I may or may not have had visions in my head of that Carrie Bradshaw scene in the Sex and the City movie where she gets her pictures taken for Vogue and the Ciara song is playing in the background (You know exactly which one I'm talking about). So now I've got my pictures and I'm hoping they serve their phantom purpose fine, and with the overhaul of my myspace page, I'm ready for the sure to be A-list fame that will come from being on a VH1 reality show. Right.