I entered the modeling world at the overripe age of 19, far beyond the typical expiry date. I was scouted at a mall and thought,”Why not?” I entered into it with eyes wide open and zero expectations. I was not a minor, nor was I pushed into it by a parent, I was just killing time until I figured out what I wanted to do with my life (for that momentous occasion I would have to wait about 7 more years). Having spent the previous 5 years working mostly in restaurants and nursing homes, I figured that modelling would be a pretty easy gig, and depending on the shoot, one that wouldn’t end with me being screamed at by a senile octogenarian or smelling of club sandwich. With those not-so-lofty ambitions, for about six months I was a model.

I had been surrounded by males all my life. My brothers and their friends saw me as another boy but with less hair (I didn’t even have enough for an anemic ponytail until I was 6). I was an outdoorsy girl, ‘au naturel’ according to Linda, my agent, with absolutely no idea how to apply makeup or walk a runway. When I met the other girls in the agency I was more than a little taken aback by how young they were despite the layers of makeup and teased  ‘freshly-fucked’ hair. Most were in their early teens yet looked older than me. They sat in the makeup chairs chain-smoking and drinking coffee, perfunctorily tended to by their mothers. This is what creeped me out the most. Today we have shows like ‘ Toddlers & Tiaras’ to act as a cautionary tale. Back in ’92 I was unaware that such a casual evil existed and was secretly thankful that my mother loved me enough to say no when I had expressed an interest in modeling as a pre-teen. Read more

Tim tells me I’m at my best when I write angry (one of his nicknames for me is ‘Her Vagesty, Queen of Ascerbia’) and I know I can spew vitriol like co-eds spew Jagerbombs, but it doesn’t mean I’m angry all the time. I’m not. I’m a cynical person, yes, but my cynicism is born of hope. I have an inordinate, perhaps unreasonable amount of faith in humanity and when that faith is shaken I get angry.[twocol]

"I'm only working here til my band gets signed"

[/twocol]One of the things I’m not going to miss about shopping for a year, although I’m sure to encounter it  in other stores, is how absolutely awful customer service has become. Used to be an anomaly when you would tell a friend,”I had the rudest salesperson today.” Now you brag when you receive good service. “You’ll never guess what happened to me today! I had great service! Yeah, really! The salesperson actually listened to my concerns and helped me make an informed decision about my purchase. And he/she seemed to like their job and the product they were selling.” So sad that it’s come to this.

I have worked with the public for nearly a quarter of a century, and I believe this makes me an expert on how humans behave in social settings. I have seen things. Things that would make a biker curl up in the fetal position and rock back and forth. Let’s just leave it at that. I will go out of my way for a customer, but I don’t believe they are always right. In fact, if a customer is unreasonable, or just a cheap asshole, I have absolutely no compunction about giving him or her  a verbal bitch-slap. But I always start from a place of respect. I will respect someone until they give me a reason not to. Then, as the kids say, it’s on. Read more