It's 9-11!!! Can I have a discount, please?

Yeah I'll say it -

there are brides who book their wedding on 9-11 and think they are entitled to a fucking discount. As one photographer told me, it was suggested that "…due to what happened that day," that she was entitled to a break in the cost.

I am appalled. Like--nauseous appalled.

Any bride who freely chooses that day and then expects a discount, is a fucking hillbilly trash-cunt whore, who deserves to drop dead that day right on the altar. How DARE you choose a day that day which is so raw--so fresh ... such an open wound for the ENTIRE country and then try and milk it for a deal. Have you no dignity, sitting home in your pajama-jeans planning your ass-wipe, discount based wedding? What kind of low-life would do that? Do you think you really are that important because you chose some matching poly-blend table linens and ordered a dry wedding cake that no one will remember, after they gag on it and chase it with warm coffee while they all stare bewildered at your cheapo Christmas Tree Shop 'gift' they all received at their place setting?

You wanna choose that day- fine. No problem. ASK FOR A BREAK however…NOT SO FINE. I cannot wrap my head around that concept. Oh wait: because YOUR wedding is the most important of them all, and people jumped to their deaths and 2000+ people DIED you should get a price break.

Are you totally mental? You have 52 weeks in the year, with 2 days in each weekend. How about you pick on of the OTHER 103 dates that happen to not fall on a national tragedy to have your special, stupid muthafucking day. You are not that special, really.

There are days like this, where I would like to get on a spaceship and leave this planet for good.

Kindly Get The Fuck Out Of My Way

You know what I DON'T need? Here's the short list: fucking limo fucking drivers, and church fucking coordinators in my fucking photos.

Stumpy, sausage-fingered 'Soprano' leftovers who feel the need to 'assist' the bride out of the limo (even though her dad is standing right there and fully capable of opening a car door) Did it ever occur to you that by you hovering around the bride in your poly-blend one-size-too-small plastic looking tux that you haven't dry cleaned in a month, that you are in all of her photos? Her memories? You are now PART of her special fucking day, in a way she had not counted on? Why do you think that's ok, you bloated douche tube? Do I photo bomb your summertime Mafia-themed Coors Light-manicoti filled home parties?

I think not.

Go the fuck away and - - - OH!!! HERE'S an idea: learn the directions to all the locations and be on fucking time. How about THAT rather than you lingering around holding the back of the dress. Maybe you didn't notice genius, but there's 16 bridesmaids with their fingers up their pussies just DYING for something to do. I know it's 'always a bridesmaid never a bride', but back off Luigi: YOUR special day will come sooner or later, and I hope I can stand around all sweaty and gross in the background of your shots.

And PS - NO: I do NOT want to have you set up a fucking staged champagne toast on your mini-godamn red carpet. Don't do me any favors, seriously. Check your datebook dickhead: it's not 1989.

And as for the ever-delightful church coordinators: those enchanting women who have not been fucked in 19 years who's job it is now to boss around the bridal party and any wedding professionals that may enter their Holy sanctum. They take their job VERY seriously as after all, God himself is watching them.

But do you know what God hates as much as I do? YOU STANDING IN THE FUCKING AISLE BEHIND THE BRIDE WHILE THE BRIDE WALKS DOWN TO THE ALTAR!!!! Why do I want to look at you in your frumpy schmata housedress behind my beautiful bride? WHY WHY WHY??? The same goes for clueless wedding planners - who equally believe that mystical powers are in full force during a wedding as their hide behind their magic "invisibility-shield" Staples clipboard. Somebody call Batman: even HE didn't figure THAT one out.

Guess what you old cunt: I can see your ancient ass, standing there as you watch the bride walk down the aisle - that permanent sourpuss affixed to your face as you think to yourself each and every Saturday, "Why have I NEVER found a man? Why can't I BE loved?" I'll tell you why- it's because you're sour, miserable, cunty and smell vaguely of mothballs.

Now get the FUCK out of my shot and go in back to see which altar boy the priest is mistreating...

Nasty-Ass consultation

• The couple arrive.
• They don't look you in the eye.
• Before you can begin your spiel they start talking about this and that.
• He is yawning.
• She still won't make eye contact.
• She looks like a horse.
• You begin to try and answer a question.
• Mid sentence, you get interrupted.
• That happens numerous times.
• They ask a completely unrelated question.
• Moments later they say how you haven't answered the last question.
• You try to do that.
• He says something unrelated once again.
• She responds to him.
• They go into their own mini conversation.
• They finally remember you are in the room, look back at you and you start to answer.
• They cut you off with another random question.
• They inform you how organized they are.
• The notes are written on a crumbled sheet of paper.
• Your blood pressure rises.
• They start talking about photos.
• They infer that there are special people they want photos taken of.
• They do not want groups, just want me aware of who is who.
• 'How will you know them?" they question.
• You briefly consider making a joke about learning telepathy before their wedding day but bite your tongue.
• They tell you how they "...don't want many formals but HIS side of the family is huge and they will need a photo of all of them."
• "OH - and we will need multiple groups on my side as well."
• But they do not want many formals, you see.
• They ask if you can get all the formals completed in 30 minutes so they can attend their cocktail hour.
• You tell them they are fucking bat-shit crazy.
• They once again proclaim their love for their butthole venue, then mention how "the view is not that great and there seems to be no where to take nice photos."
• Yet they adore their venue.
• Super fantastic, you think. A picture-perfect perfection.
• The venue is under construction.
• There is mud all around.
• She is worried.
• Yet they ADORE their venue.
• They wonder how you will handle that.
• You try to answer, they briefly smile politely and then suddenly ask about albums.
• They suggest they can do their own on Shutterfly.
• They disagree as to which parent will want what type of album.
• This goes on and on for an hour.
• He yawns even wider and she starts looking more like My not-so-Pretty Pony.
• You are hating them.
• No-REALLY: you hate them.
• You want them out of your studio.
• You hope their 'perfect' venue burns down.
• You hope she slips on aforementioned mud and breaks her boney-ass horse hip the morning of the wedding.
• being an equine, she then then need to be shot.
• You hope he cheats on her and brings the pregnant girlfriend to the wedding the day of and ruins everything.
• You really, really, really really hope they would die, right here- right now in front of you.
• Just keel over dead so you could bury them in the back yard, as no one would miss these 2 fucking pests.
• another super-duper day at the office.

You Can Go Home Now

....so im at a wedding recently, and the bride told me multiple times in advance that she wanted to get formals over fast as she wanted to get to the cocktail hour. We were at this wedding factory in New jersey which was located in a corporate park, so you KNEW right off you were in for a special treat. Nothing says 'matrimony' more than a facility next to faceless commercial buildings and chain hotels.

So we're not at the place 2 minutes and the staff start asking where we wanna shoot. I thought they were being helpful at first, but it suddenly became pushy. We had about 45 minutes to shoot but they were still breathing down our backs. That starts the night off REALLY wrong - wedding venue people ---give the photogs a CHANCE to scope out the venue if they haven't been there, for fucks sake.

Anyway, I took the dullest, most inspiration-sucking photos ever against some fucking drapes, and grabbed a few outside on some cheesy-ass Grande balcony. Completely uninspiring. I said, right on time when she wanted to finish I might add, "OK - we're all done." and she thanked me and said, "GREAT, now I can go to the cocktail hour..." A groomsman then comments and hits it on the head and says to the bride right in front of me, "I can tell how "important" the photos are to you! hahahahaha!" Wow---very funny. Laugh riot.

the night just keeps getting better.

Afterwards - the guy who was pushing me to choose a locale came up to me and said - "Well that was easy!!"

I said, "it WAS?"

He says, "Well nothing else is happening tonight---no formalities. She really wanted those shots done fast, and told me to tell when when it was a quarter after, since she was going to stop whatever you were doing and go to the cocktail hour."

"She WAS?" I said.

"Oh yeah I guess so, " he continued, "...she wasn't even interested in hiring a photographer..but her mother made her."

great---I felt SO glad to be there, and really gave it my all the rest of the night. I mean seriously? Talk about just working for a paycheck. Look, I know full well not every wedding is magazine worthy and people place different levels of importance on different things, but to find out she really didn't even WANT you there just fucking sucks. And so to see the huge amount of guests (200+) the quality and quantity of the food (lobster, crab legs, sushi bar and oysters at cocktail hour...) and know you were of little importance is just depressing. I just kinda tuned out, hit the camera button mindlessly and waited for the shit to end to get the fuck out of there.

A shitty start to fucking 2011...

Christmas Panic - as usual.

here,clients line up for last minute print orders....

Tell me why this happens ever fucking year?

You've had your images forever--sometimes well over a year or more, but then mere days before Christmas you suddenly realize that you have had your head jammed up your shit filled ass for the last 11 months and suddenly - right as I might possibly be trying to enjoy MY Holiday- you HAVE TO have your images printed IMMEDIATELY!!

Do you think all happens with a push of a button? Has it occurred to you that even the labs are backed up and slow down, and then it still has to get through our cranky-ass mail system?

Oh but thats right...I forgot. YOU are my only client. I have nothing else to do than deal with your forgetfulness, as well as produce Photoshop miracles at breakneck speeds. For it is well known, that I celebrate nothing but the chance to service you last minute. Why, it gives me a Christmas-boner just thinking about it. What else may I do for you? Come over and cook dinner? Wrap presents? Babysit your fucking kids.

Don't be a douche and think ahead next year, asshole.

Merry Fucking Christmas from My Special Fucking Day

Allow ME to pay YOU to capture your AMAZING fucking day...

a super-special holiday submission from a reader, simply oozing with Xmas cheer!

Dear Vendor (who I'd like to get for free…)

As you can imagine costs have added up to the point where we are only able to offer $---- for the Option 2 Pacjage - We feel that if we could secure you on the team, workflow and style will be in sync with the team from [other Vendor] would be seemless. {ignorant fuck. nice spelling}

Please let me know if you can make this happen, if so I will move forward today. If paying in cash helps we're able to do that as well. {oh,well fuck me in my pink a-hole, if it's cash, why don't you pass me a $20 and we'll call it even. Maybe your new bride will end up earning it back blowing me in the coatroom?}

Thanks,

[client]

_____________________

Hi [client],

Where to begin? I guess with your flawed thinking... I'm assuming the last minute nature of your vendor bookings was with hopes that you'd use your Super Salesman approach to negotiate a last minute deal, knowing December isn't exactly prime wedding season, and ohhhh….I don't know, maybe I'm dying to be surrounded by so many "fantastic guests" that I simply can't refuse. {He insisted in his high-brow tone that his wedding was going to be full of 'fantastic people'. As if most couples think their guests are losers, fuckups and hobos}

So we chat, and you let me know that this will be the wedding of the season (never heard that before) and I let you know I'm comfortable working within a budget and I can make some concessions based on the time of year and the vendors with whom I'll be working.

So you wait another 10 days, now less than two weeks before the big day. Now I must be really sweating, hoping, and praying that I'll hear from you to cover the most amazing day in the history of mankind. And when I do, I'm told your budget has gone over by $300, which is a load of shit----but assuming for a moment it's true, you thought would be a wise idea to squeeze out of me despite a healthy initial price break. Oh, but wait! You ALSO think I would be a valuable part of your wedding team?? And our workflow and style will be in sync with the other vendors, making it 'seemless' (it's seamless by the way, you stupid turd) Oh, well then of course I'd love to work for minimum wage. {and you know I've seen this fucknut before... The guy with the shoe string budget, yet you know had managed to budget for a 12 piece band, enough flowers to bring Martha Stewart to orgasm right at her table, and 350 of their closest friends and relatives.}

Which brings us to the problem... I'll put this as nicely as I can... I think you're a douchebag. {ok, ok, not nice, but appropriate.}

So unfortunately I've already booked 12/18. I have an event, on my couch, watching Rudolph and then Frosty. {Or maybe it's Frosty, then Rudolph?}

All My Best: not so gullible vendor

Autumn Leaves suck ass

after recently meeting with a very busy bride ( she's in a field where her schedule is insane, and I GET THAT) I met up with her on my own time in NYC ( something I really never do) She was having a 2 day event and I had created this whole proposal for 2 days coverage in NYC, talked to both her and her planner on the phone etc etc. I think it would have been a beautiful event.

So in our meeting, she goes on and on about how much "emotion and feeling" my photos have and how "they haven't found anyone else whose work they feel as strongly about" GREAT! I think--this is in the bag.

Not so fast...photoguy.

Then the tone changes , she does a 180 nd she launches into how " ...frantic their schedule is and how it seems that we cannot schedule a time that convenient for an engagement session"

"We have all of November or the Spring!" I suggest, "I can even do halloween!"

"No, no, no---we want The Leaves" [for the record, i think I am officially OVER the fucking Fall leaves and the booking trouble they cause] So i'm kinda like, "Well YOU have no free time, and neither do I---so I'm not sure what you wanna hear from me?"

"Well - as much as we ADORE your work, we are thinking of hiring someone closer who is like 5 minutes away and not as far as where you are."

"Yeah but, I said I'M COMING TO YOU FOR YOUR ENGAGEMENT SESSION!"

None of this seemed to sink in and her eyes glazed over with the next bad decision she was planing on making--- "what if we hired you JUST for the night before the wedding but hired someone to DO the wedding day?"

What. The. Fuck?

So let me wrap my head around this---you 'love' my work, but because we cannot find 60 minutes in the next fucking week for an engagement session so you can have your damn LEAVES - you are going to forfeit the photographer you 'adore' for someone closer---JUST FOR THAT SINGLE REASON??? I might also add that 'he' likes the nature of the leaves but 'SHE' prefers the urban look---so how important then could the leaves really be?

She then emails me 2 days before halloween asking me if I can still shoot that day and do the event the night before. I told her 'NO' and to go to Central park, grab a fistful of leaves, jam them up her twat and live happily ever after.

thank you very much, Autumn--- for losing me a job.