The Camera, She Doesn't Love Me.

You probably don't know this, but I am standing on the very brink of fame. I have an agent. And as if having one isn't cool enough, yesterday, I actually got to say to someone "you'll need to talk to my agent about that."

Last week, I got the contract in the mail along with a list of things my agent needs in order to "launch" me in January. Completed W9. Biography. Signature. Media. Photo/Head Shot.

Head Shot. Crap. I am chronically un-photogenic. How ever gorgeous I may want to think I am in real life, there is absolutely no photographic evidence to support this. See the expression on my face up there? That is the disgusted result of my having taken well over a hundred photos of myself today, each more frightening than the next. They were scary even when I was trying to look pretty, which is fricken depressing.


This is Lolita. She has an agent, too. You'll see her stuff in every gift shop in the free world. She's Practically Famous. Rich. Elegant. Sophisticated. Photogenic. Pretty. I wish I'd never seen this picture. I hate her.

As soon as I saw it, I started planning my own glamour shot. I'll be wearing black - it's a very artsy color. Probably a turtleneck - that's both artsy and will cover my chicken neck. A straight skirt, just above the knee. Those awesome black heels I bought last year that are completely impossible to walk in. I'll be holding an artistically arranged fist full of paint brushes. Wearing new, funky, cool glasses. Sitting on a white cube in front of a mottled grey screen. Striking a Diane Keaton-esque pose. The pottery version of Lolita. Can you see it? Don't I look fabulous?

Wait. I'm an artist (pronounced aah-tist, in the Bostonian accent I can't seem to shake.) The only time you'd ever see me in a black skirt, nylons and heels in my studio is, well...never. OK then. I'm in jeans. The same black turtle neck I was wearing in the last paragraph. A chunky necklace - probably one of my own creations. My favorite cowboy boots. And ooh, I know - one of my huge signature scarves (that I was wearing long before Oprah made them cool.)

This is Karim. He and I have the same agent. While he is not beautiful, he does look cool. If I can't have pretty, I'll settle for cool. I'll have to pay someone. Because if today's session was any indication, pretty and cool can't be forced out of a camera handled by an amateur. I'm payin' you. Make me pretty, damn it.