The Acid Flashback Set

Today's photoshoot was great, if weird. Jen and I went down to Bute Park (which was packed at 1 pm on a Saturday), found a dark corner and got up to no good. Was convinced we'd get some cat-calls like last time with Kitty Moran, but if the kids saw us, they were too freaked out to say anything. Just in case, I told her tell any rude passers-by that she was Death. Maybe I've been reading too much Sandman lately (if indeed there is such a thing), but the whole scene was positively Burtonesque. The light kept shifting, so the butterflies - yes, butterflies - and falling leaves took on a melancholic dimension in the relative gloom. Jen looked fantastic -- she had her black hooded corset and this black and white striped bustle skirt that did crazy things to my vision, leading me to call these "The Acid Flashback Set".

It was all a little surreal, and I kept saying so. I might have been talking to myself. These things happen. Jen climbed a tree and I handed her a tea cup and we got this:



Out of 244 photos, I don't think there was a bad shot. Had a great time, Jen's happy with the photos, and all of her friends are loving them on the 'book. I'm glad! We got October's cover sorted as well as a few fake adverts and I didn't even use the spare batteries. Excellent. Everyone's in favour of the calendar idea and picking their months, but I could still do with finding a couple more models. Any volunteers?

Afterwards we went to Nero's for chai and Rebel Rebel for henna, meeting up with LJ and Erin for a tour of Cardiff's many Starbucks, took the scenic route home, where we found the found The Punk celebrating The Mighty Arsenal's victory. Jen, Erin, and LJ headed back to Swansea, needing some recovery after Girl Party Mark II, McTizzle's Magic Birthday Edition, which included four previous cover models, a balloon fight, and a roasting of P.S. I Love You. Yeah, I was surprised, too. This yielded to us three Truths:

1. "Gerard Butler is useless to us in the dark."
2. Hilary Swank turned what could have been a genuine tear-jerker into a harmless waste of time in which we feel no sympathy for the protagonist, and
3. Jeffrey Dean Morgan can make ANY mess worth watching at least once.

The best part of that movie was watching The Punk's face contort as he struggled to hold back every sarky comment he thought of, and recieving high-5s when I said what he was thinking before he did.

Well, that and Kitty's amazing brownies. Yes, that's right. Not only is she gorgeous, intelligent, and hell-bent on global domination, but she can bake, too. At some point -- and I don't remember exactly when; there was a lot of sugar involved -- we decided that I can best be described as "a Stepford Wife is somebody ripped out the hard disk and replaced it with a Ramones CD". I'm happy with that. Road to Ruin's probably my favourite, but I bet it's Rocket to Russia.

As long as I'm doing this stream-of-consciousness thing, I might as well mention that I think I heard a busker playing "Famous Blue Raincoat" today. It could have been wishful thinking, but buskers have been getting better around here lately -- last week it was Pink Floyd and Buddy Holly, but hearing Leonard Cohen played (well) in the street could be the greatest thing EVER.

May have imagined it, though. Jen didn't hear it.

Here's another photo from today for you. Enjoy.