Everybody is working for the weekend

Every now and then I find myself in a situation where I can't help but think how the hell did I get here? Lately, I have been having a lot of those. Like now for example, where I find myself standing in front a big cardboard box that I am very unhappy with. This is because it is full of speedos. Speedos I am expected to model.

I really should have put in that no speedo clause.....

These particular banana hammocks are European in flair; high rise on the sides and non existent in the back. Sweet. No tan lines. I guess if you are the type of person who wears speedos you might look at this box and think "JACKPOT!!!" but I'm more of the "does anybody have a match" persuasion.  

This all being said, I pride myself on being a professional so I drop trouser (I wonder how many times that exact statement has been written?) and gear up. I brace myself with a confidence boosting speech that would make even Dirk Diggler proud and I step out.

I pull back the $3 shower curtain (also known as the door to my luxurious change room) to find 3 lady boys looking directly at my "apparel". This is my posse. They are my hairdresser, my "stylist" (I use the term loosely) and my MUA (make up artist). For a moment, I worry that he wants to do some touch ups but I quickly sidestep that issue and him and head directly into the studio. 

Now have you ever had that dream where you are standing in front of the class and you are wearing nothing but your underwear? Well apparently that is what I do for a living. At least today it is. I find myself standing in front of 20 or so people who are all staring at me expecting me to do something as if I'm some sort of dancing monkey.

 I can just see the SNL skit now with Patrick Swayze and Chris Farley as auditioning Chippendale dancers. Man I miss that guy..... and Im not talking about Swayze. 

 We have been shooting all day and the pace has been ridiculously fast as is most catalogue shoots. You spend about 12 hours in front of the same boring back drop doing the same 4 cheesy poses, shirt after shirt, pant after pant (side note: can someone please explain to me why pants are plural and shirts are singular? Both have 2 appendages?)  and most of the time the crews here in Thailand seem less interested then George Bush at a feminist rally. Right now however everyone seems to have "noticed" my new outfit, making this is more awkward that an Amish prom.

 At least it can't get any worse I think to myself.... until it does: out of nowhere this little Thai man comes over and decides to "adjust" my outfit without so much as offering to buy me a drink first.  Seriously man, I could've used a "hey, heads up: Im just gonna throw around your package like I work at UPS".

 Usually you get used to random people poking at you as they have an onset dressers who watch for things like wrinkles in clothing so this is nothing out of the ordinary. Unless all you are wearing is a fucking speedo.

Long story short: I modelled the shit out of those speedos.