So Rachel invited some of her model and photography friends over and they were posing in skin-tights with tarantulas---real tarantulas---scuttling over their cleavage, when I volunteered, for, like, the 15th time that night, my naked self, for art's sake.
The next thing I knew, I was ass to the wind (or, rather, ass to the mild breeze wafting from the radiator), Trinidad, a giant she-tarantula, skittering around my bare chest.
It was super-hot!
I was striking poses---The Thinker, Spider-man---never-minding, even, her sharp, little toes prickling my skin, even the drool trickling down my back (spiders drool?) Then Heidi, the photog, goes:
God! You're so good at posing and stuff! You're so photogenic! You need to, like, seriously quit your job at Target and start doing this stuff for real! Why don't you?
And, for the first time that night, I got really bashful and introverted, and I said in a small, sad voice:
I'd rather not answer that question.
And now I'm, like, depressed and all. Amuse me, my jesters! Cavort and pratfall for my delight, till I be not sad anymore.
The next thing I knew, I was ass to the wind (or, rather, ass to the mild breeze wafting from the radiator), Trinidad, a giant she-tarantula, skittering around my bare chest.
It was super-hot!
I was striking poses---The Thinker, Spider-man---never-minding, even, her sharp, little toes prickling my skin, even the drool trickling down my back (spiders drool?) Then Heidi, the photog, goes:
God! You're so good at posing and stuff! You're so photogenic! You need to, like, seriously quit your job at Target and start doing this stuff for real! Why don't you?
And, for the first time that night, I got really bashful and introverted, and I said in a small, sad voice:
I'd rather not answer that question.
And now I'm, like, depressed and all. Amuse me, my jesters! Cavort and pratfall for my delight, till I be not sad anymore.