Triple Sparkle

2008-03-18T20:45:00.001-07:00

Camera Work

2008-03-18T20:28:00.000-07:00

I am watching the French Open on T.V., it is engrossing to say the least. I played my first game of the year on Sunday, verdict; backhand still rocks, serve still sucks. But, I didn't take the time to write this little ditty as an opportunity to bore you with tales of my weekly tennis game. Oh no, I am actually here to comment on the camera work of the people filming the French Open. I am assuming that they are camera-men... If you think I am wrong you may call me out as a half-witted femininny. Here is why; during breaks in the action the camera men zone in on a pretty girl in the audience. I counted two blonde's and one brunette, during one game and no men were zoomed in on. At first I thought perhaps these are the players significant- others. But as the tennis coverage progressed it became clear that these were random people/ladies chosen to break the monotony of the burning red clay and neon yellow/green balls zooming across the screen at 90mph . The camera stayed focused on the girl until she did something human like scratch her nose or felt someone watching her and started shifting in her seat. This is just an observation, I don't feel it is exploitation in anyway, I actually find it humorous to think of the guys in the editing van; it goes something like this:
They are speaking on two way radio head sets, game coverage begins.
They have someone who is responsible for scanning the crowd.

Pierre: Jacques he iz on mon cherie duty.
Jacques: I weel do my best to make you proud.
Pierre: oui, oui! She iz de one, get closer, what a beaute'
8 seconds later........
Jacques: With respect, Nadal iz on match point
Pierre : Oh oui, she has lost my interest anyway.

This reminds me of a book that I have that was published in 1927. The book is Fashion Drawing for the Press, which in 1927 is a male dominated field. On one of the pages it says, pick which image your eye is drawn to and rests on. On the page is a picture of a monopoly type guy, with a monocle, a chef with a cake, a girl standing in a checkered dress holding flowers, and a small picture of a girl sitting on a chair. The eye is naturally drawn to the girl in the checkered dress. The next page has the answer to this riddle.

" Your eye is drawn to the girl in the checkered dress because of the active pattern on her dress and the fact that there is nothing more charming in the whole world than the sight of a pretty girl"
That pretty much sums it up right there. Not that any of this was a surprise, it is just funny to see it in action. Just another example of the fact that women really do rule the world.

Some of my art

2008-03-18T15:54:00.001-07:00

Please, steal my identity and take my teeth.

2008-03-16T17:46:00.000-07:00

Well, it all started a couple of weeks ago coming back from a They Might Be Giants concert in Bloomington, IN. I met lots of cool people at the show. This was perhaps because I wore my white rabbit fur trimmed hemp beanie. After imbibing a number of draft Stella Artois' the drive home (my DD Joel thank you ) was quite relaxed despite the savage weather outside. Blowing snow, freezing rain, normally I would have been a total wreck as I have a mild form of travel anxiety due to being a driver or passenger in a few freak accidents, but I digress. Less than half way home I told Joel we had to pull over as I could not hold my bladder any longer. So there I am on the side of I-37 my butt being pelted by snow. If this wasn't terrible enough the next morning I awoke to find my debit card and ID gone. I pictured them covered in a frozen mixture of urine and snow on the side of the road. It was then I realized that they had been in my back pocket and probably came out when I went wee wee. So I got a new bank card and am going to the BMV to get a new license. In the mean time I have been getting into the clubs with my passport. Last Friday night one of my designs was in a fashion show downtown. Afterwards we were famished and so we went to Peppy Grill in Fountain Square. Entering the restaurant my passport fell out of my purse and landed in the snow. I woke up the next morning and not being able to find my passport my mind jumped to the worst conclusion; someone would find my ID and hook up with someone who had found my passport, put someone else's picture in both and rule the underworld as Nicole Yalowitz.
Luckily I had contact info in the passport and Peppy grill did not sell my identity to the highest bidder. The real nightmare came this morning when I woke from a dream where Brett Michaels was my dentist. He kept leaning over me with his weave hair falling onto my bib. All I could look at were those coal rimmed eyes and the concealer around his nose. When he was finished I looked in the mirror and realized my teeth had been filed to short little points. I didn't even look like my own passport photo.