This is me, looking dead, in Montara.
I was imagining what it would be like to die from a Fly Agaric mushroom… plus, my amazing paparazzi photographer, Carla, threw a little dirt on me and some got in my eye balls. I could tell right away the photo shoot was going to be amazing, since she was laughing at me and telling me how there was probably bugs in my hair – or that I was ingesting deadly mushroom spores. Nothing says professionalism, like when your photographer keeps looking down at the camera to review the shots, and says, “Ohhh man! That one is really bad. I’m going to delete it right now.”
But it’s not Carla’s fault. I lead her there under false pretenses, saying it would be a 30 minute trip to take a couple fun pic.’s of me next to these really cool mushrooms. (“let’s go! It’ll be sooo fun!”)And, I needed her to come – uh, like, now! – since rain was upon us. It probably wasn’t until she saw the pearl necklaces, wardrobe changes, and Dior lipgloss did she realize what she committed herself to.
I have been trapped by Carla many times before though. Back in the days where Carla did amazing flower arrangements – rather than amazing gardening – she would trick me to go with her to the SF Flower Market.
Carla: “Jenn do you want to come with me to the flower market!? It’ll be so fun and there are tons of flowers!”
Jenn: “Sure! That sounds great!”
Little did I know it meant getting there by 3-4AM and schlepping her bounty around like some sort of tired pack mule. It was cold and thankless… but for some reason, I’d keep going back with her… thinking maybe the next trip would be really fun.
So, I guess you could say I took a little pleasure forcing Carla to be my paparazzi for the morning. It’s a dirty job, but someone’s gotta take pic.’s of me in dirt next to deadly mushrooms.
Happy Next To Mushroom