Click on the image for a slightly bigger Dee!

We saw each other last week when I took a day off and while it wasn't exactly the day I was hoping for, it was still fun nonetheless.

It's important to see your friends in their natural habitat, a setting where they can be comfy and be themselves. With Dev at her side, Deanna is a naturally happy friend. She stays the sort of girl who was wonderful in high school and will stay that way for the rest of her life.

Between Dee & myself, we've developed what many would consider an unlikely friendship. She originally thought I was a stalker (I'm far too lazy for that) and our connection was little more than peers at Uni.

Creepy Dee… but oh so sexy. Grrrooowwwwllll!!!

But that changed as the years went on. We got better as friends and trusted each other and to be honest, I have no idea why I'm writing any of this down.

I don't know why I'm telling you any of this. You probably don't know Dee. You probably never will.

But what I think I mean to say out of all of this is that you probably should because Deanna Mushins is brilliant.

And she will be missed by me deeply.

Emily & Dee stand up in front of Emily's work currently hanging in the ACP. 
My phone echoes with a perpetual ringing that Dee never picks up. Ring-ring I hear, ring-ring again. Over and over while I hope for that one sound where u can hear her say some goodbyes.

But this isn't. This is just see you later.

I hope so anyway.

I'll miss you Dee.

More pics of Dee below…

My my… look how young we all looked…

…what happened?!

Dee's friends in an easy to use place…

Sitting down on the job? Could thing it's just me there…

what's your next move, Dee?

Well you will later.

By the time I'm through writing about it, anyway.

Cool picture, huh. 

Tonight, we had drinks after work.

Justyn, Sarah, Nat, Tim, Jake as well as our usual drinking buddy of Nat's friend Laura.

And I would be writing about it while smelling the smoky cotton smell on my wrist if this bus wasn't so god damned bumpy.

I mean fuck, you should see this writing.

Right now, I'm sitting in the bus on the way home with some dickhead guys who are chilling in seats and looking around at the bus as if they owned the place.

I dare not fall asleep lest I wake up without my nice hat.

I'll be home soon anyway.

Home where my brain will linger on the same topic while I turn on my computer, feed the cat, take off my shoes, take off my socks. My brain will analyse the night and catalogue every word I spoke at drinks.

Frankly, it's all very relative and yet it's not at the same time. 

Click on this murky inner-city landscape if you want to see it bigger!

The bus goes up Oxford St. and speeds on by happy people, smart people, sexy people, fragrant people, dumb people, drunk people, and then all manner of white, black, red, yellow, blue, green purple, ultraviolet, sad, glad, bitchy, snitchy, simple dimpled motherfucking people who can all go through life without their brain needing to replay everything you just did in exciting Technicolor while giving you a blow-by-blow summary of everything else you did wrong.

I don't think I did anything wrong today. But I do know what I didn't get.

And it's that simple thing that I didn't get which continues to haunt my disillusioned self every time I come back from "a night out".

It's not about the sex, though I can see why many would think it is: I'm male, a Scorpio, and a frequent masturbator.

It's not about the hook-up: I wouldn't even know how to flirt or how to interpret flirting if I tried.

It's about the kiss: it's like a toy I never got to play with in high school. I still don't experience it now. The concept of random thoughtless tongue-literally-in-cheek is still mostly foreign to me and I never wanted it to be.

And while it may sound childish, man-beating-his-chest, and overall pointless behaviour to you, my brain seems to force it on me in a manner not dissimilar from Bart of Lisa Simpson talking to their brain as if it's another entity altogether.

I'm not quite sure where I was headed with this tangent so I'll just try and reconstruct myself…

Friday Night Drinks

The office had drinks and while most people – you, them, anyone else – can have the drinks and go home happy, fulfilled, and at least in the early stages of intoxication, my brain operates on a slightly different frequency.

It might have been because I was tired and was beginning to see things as blurry, but I just didn't care much at the end for sitting in a pub or a club pretending to give a damn.

I am not a pretender.

I am not part of The Pretenders either. As a result, I will not walk five hundred miles.

Still, I am not a pretender. I gave up mostly on that aspect of my life long ago when I felt too much lying was a little pointless and tedious.

So in the beginning of the night, at the beginning of the drinks, when I was just socialising with work colleagues about work, TV, music, and random dickheads, I was being myself.

But as the night wore on and our group became 3 plus me, I began to care less. There was less for me to talk about and more in exchanged to drink, and while you might argue that "more to drink means more possibilities for that random kiss you just mentioned a few paragraphs ago," I of all people know that that's a load of crap and that combined with my tiredness from the duration of the week, I should probably go home.

So after the four of us had a carb-filling Macca's meal, the others walked to a pub while I meekly said "later" with no one hearing me.

I stood there outside of this McDonald's Restaurant knowing I'd said "goodbye' while the rest of the group walked away. I wondered if any of them had realised it. 

A minute or two later, one did and they turned around and waved. I waved and walked off.

As my pen begins to run out of ink and I recant the night in some randomly poetry nonsense that can only be joined together with a reasonable apprehension of everything & nothing and a bourbon on the rocks, I realise that more than anything, I've left something out.

Tim – who can be found here attempting to add his own injection of celebrity gossip to the greater orifice that is the world wide web – seems to have taken it upon himself to get me laid, and in doing so, has arrived at a pick-up line for me to use when I'm out.

Are you ready?

*ahem*

Hi. My name is Leigh and would you like to touch my Wii?

Oh yeah. Tim's da man.  I am so getting action nowww.

First we tried the Imax but the movies all had icky starting times so then we tried George St. but there was nothing on there that we wanted to see.

This is already beginning to sound like The Three Bears… and Juliet is blond. Does that make her Goldilocks? 

Anyway, so we headed back to her car parked around the back of Darling Harbour and as we headed towards Darlinghurst thinking of one of the Palace cinemas, we got a call from Wendell. Back to town we went picking up the fashion photographer and heading to dinner somewhere else.

I love this photo I shot of Juliet talking to Wendell. Such colour… such… wait– did I just get a colour shot?!

This is the story of that dinner.  (Okay, it's not really a story… it's a post.)

Juliet parked the car on one of the side streets near Five Ways. By park, I mean that Wendell and I got out while we sort of pushed the car into a position so it wouldn't misbehave. Aren't Wendell and I strong? Super-strong!

Anyway, by now I was hungry. After only having breakfast this morning and a slice of pizza of Tim's while my co-workers and I were drinking, I was pretty hungry.

Wendell suggested we go to this little cafeteria sort of place. It wasn't very good and we more or less walked out as fast as we walked in.

Next to it, though, was Christo's.

Wendell & I discussing while drinking. Juliet shot this while I post-processed it. Click it for a bigger one!

When Wendell & I used to work at the Roslyn Oxley9 Gallery, I can remember going by on the bus or walking by Christo's wondering what it was like. It wasn't that I never had the money to go there: it's an Italian place and it's not really really upmarket. It was more that I had no one to go with. 

Tonight I did. Tonight I was dining with Juliet Bennett and Wendell Teodoro.

Juliet at Christo's. I shot this picture. 

We sat down outside and had a look through the menu. After deciding on a prosciutto & bocconcini pizza for me, a spaghetti bolognese for Wendell, and a 2006 Willow Estate Cabernet Merlot for the table, we tucked into the conversation.

And then a few minutes later, the food.

I ordered the pizza…

…while Wendell ordered the pasta. Or spaghetti bolognese in this case.

And then the conversation which went on for quite a while.

We spoke about religion and quantum mechanics. We spoke about politics and women. We talked photography and models and how everyone was, and at one point one of the guys sitting next to me on another table asked me if I was using a D300.

I replied "yes" and he asked me how I was finding it. I told him that I reviewed it (which I haven't finished writing yet) and that I loved it so much, I went out and bought it.

His friend said that was about as good as it gets. He's probably right.

Juliet when she laughs that beautiful laugh. I think this was shot by Wendell Teodoro.

The night continued as Wendell & I shot photos of Juliet and Juliet shot photos of Wendell & I. There was conversation, conversation, conversation, and it was all over a really nice drop of red.

And it was a nice drop. I even messaged Stubbsy to tell him of it.

Shot by Juliet Bennett. 

At one point, the conversation became so engrossed in religion that I switched over to playing God of War on the PSP. I got about ten more minutes into the game and then went back to being semi-social while I let the salty freshness of the pink prosciutto make its way through my mouth.

The food was excellent. Well the pizza was anyway.

I didn't try Wendell's spaghetti but my bocconcini & prosciutto with rocket-on-top pizza was excellent. It had fantastic dough baked to perfection and was simply excellent.

It really was a nice drop of red. I was sort of paying attention to Wendell but more paying attention to the final drops as the wine dripped out. Shot by Juliet Bennett & processed by me. 

I wish I could tell you of the conversation we had. Of the points about religion and happiness, of security and safety. Of so many technological and communication points I could make and probably did.

Unfortunately like most good conversations, it's one of those things that you just had to be there for.

Okay. I got this photo. Credit to me!

Next time you need some intelligent and stimulating conversation, you could always go out on a date with me. I'm good for it.

The problem with discussions (and arguments) over quantum mechanics is that neither of us – being photographers – will probably be right. I think I was more right in this case, though. Regardless, image shot by Juliet Bennett & post-processed by me. 

More pictures below:

First we have a serious-y photo of Juliet shot by me…

…followed by a less seriously and more giggly, happy picture shot by Wendell Teodoro.

Juliet managed to capture us perfectly. Wendell is… well, Wendell… and I'm slightly blurry. Just like in real life. Shot by Juliet Bennett, processed by me.

Don't ever let anyone tell you I'm not a dreamer. Not like they would in the first place. Unless they hated me or something. Shot by Juliet Bennett, processed by me. 

I initially was more of a "naaaaahhhh, I'll just wait to go out with my friends by playing video games at the office," but then something in my mind ticked over and said "Leigh, you're being a douchebag. These people actually want to drink with you. It's not just a load of crap."

So I agreed and as they waited for me downstairs, I packed all my crap up and then joined them.

And then we all headed in a great big packed train off to Jackson's on George for drinking, random conversations about Jennifer Hawkins, the occasional yelling at the fuckwits across the road walking to a party and dressed like the douchebag Corey, and all manner of things.

And yes, I took pictures.

Click the "to be continued" thing (it's called a "jump") to see them. And if you want to hear my occasional blurb on my thoughts during the drinking. If you're into that.

Laura and her beer. Never tear a woman from her brewskie. Shit, did I just say brewskie? *shutter* 

Nat won't give me a straight face. Must be the booze. Or Nat. One of them.

I know. I'll get a shot of Nat when she's not paying any attention…  right about… now…

There we go! Natttttttttttttttttttttt… with out the extra t's.

Timmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Without the extra m's. Unless you're into that sort of shit. 

When I'm sitting there drinking with people, I notice that most people chat and have fun… socialising without Facebook and doing it good and proper somewhere where they can all have fun. 

I, for the most part, tend to shut up because I don't really have anything to say and I usually won't talk until I do. It's just the way I am, I guess. I'm random and eccentric but social situations aren't something I know how to handle. That and girls. Completely clueless on those things.

I only stayed about an hour or so before heading off to Darling Harbour to meet with Juliet where we were gonna go bowling at some ultraviolet lanes or something. It didn't quite turn out like that but you'll see why in the next post.

Those kids letters from the "Express Yourself" campaign got an extended workout on the day before the Easter long weekend with everyone in the office basically getting in on the action.

First it started with my one:

Gran Turismo Five. Ok. That's a pretty basic one.

So with a long weekend coming, you know something like this was on its way…

I think it says "Fuck yeah! Long Weekend Woo!" except we don't have enough characters for the full "weekend".

And then things started to get… wacky…

So, long weekend… let's all cheer for…

Boobies!

And who doesn't like boobies?

Then I came along and rearranged them for Sarah's benefit…

I actually just meant to poke Sarah lovingly with my finger. Like poking… or prodding… making temporary indentations in skin with my finger.

I didn't realise the sexual connotations of it until people started laughing at it.

Then I went to lunch… and when I came back, I saw this…

Yes, because we've all believed that babies secretly came from a cabbage patch at one point in our lives… right? RIGHT?!

Ahhhh… well, you knew what day would come after the Thursday at least.

…and what comes after a Good Friday?

…a Bad Friday. That's right! Very good!

Now go listen to some music. Jake would like to suggest some.

Yes, the beautiful hard rock alternative stylings of Themata.

And then I don't quite know what happened to our little letter board…

…err?

…wait… what?!

And it stayed like that for a good long while.

While everyone left when they were supposed to. While the various parts of the Cyber Shack disembarked for their long weekend, I stayed behind to work on the Gran Turismo 5 video.

And then it was just me.

Knowing my luck, I've probably just collapsed in a corner somewhere and am drooling in patterns that make Virgin Mary sightings seems like child's play.

Still, this is my first blog of the year… an automated message bringing you what I think is among the best of my blogs for the last year. 

How many people do you know that wrote around 250 blog entries in the one year?

The answer is probably obvious. 

None. You and your friends have lives.

Still, I'm planning a whole bunch more for this year ranging between crap for the Gimmick Guy, a year-long blog-ject (like a project but specifically for the blog), Chimp, and a bunch of other things that I won't burden with you right now.

So here is my year in review… some of it anyway. Some of it's happy. Some of it's sad. All of it is past-tense.

Let's talks about sex bah-bee…

• March – The Big Clit – More hits on this than that clit ever got. Maybe. 
• June – Another random sex post. – This time about Starcraft! 
• August – Vaginal Discrimination – Today's discussion centres itself on a very important topic… 
• August – The planning for World Laids Day begins – I can't be the only one who celebrates this… 
• September – I almost get picked up at the Bondi Road pick-up joint… – If only.
• October – Guys really need to remember to support important causes – Men. You have a duty to support the breast.

 Leigh chills with friends!

• February – One of those General Pants kind of days (WITH PICS!) – Nice. Relaxing. Billboard-y.
• March – Art with Dee and some guy named Anthony Bartok (WITH PICS!) – It has Dee in it. Reason enough to click.
• July – Fashion. Vodka. Red Bull. Cream. Girls. (WITH PICS!) – You pick the ones you like most.
• July – Famous for wearing a hat (WITH PIC!) – This relates to the blog link above this.
• August – Partying is such sweet sorrow… wait… no it isn't. It rocks. (WITH PICS!) – Hey, I met Juliet at this one!
• December- I have a big night out with some sexy models and Wendell. (WITH PICS!) – I so have a new-found love for Kiwi girls after this.

 
Click-click-click says the camera!

• January – The Manta Meet – When a DSLR Users.com member comes down from Queensland, it's worth a meet! 
• January – Images from a time you'd want to remember – Nice relaxing pictures shot around the harbour.  
• February – A1 Grand Prix: The Cars – What you go to the Grand Prix for. 
• February – A1 Grand Prix: The Cameras – What you don't. 
• February – The sights & sounds of Soundwave – …and I'll be doing it again this year!
• August – Eclipse of the heart – It's a red moon. Seriously, if you can think of a better name, I welcome you to try!

Live on scene, it's Ace Reporter Leigh!

• March – I don't wanna rock DJ but you're making me feel so nice – It's a cool stormy night… and you're listening to Leigh on the radio!
• August – Mike & I experienced more… while experiencing less. – At least the music was good. 
• October – The fifth best restaurant in the world! – And I got to eat there… sweet! Took a while though. Lol.

Leigh's Productions Of The Year!

• March – Gin & Jews – Like Snoop Dogg only more like Richard Cheese with a circumcision. 
• April – Pubey The Prepubescent Potato! – Mr. Potato Head just grew some balls. 
• May – Zimbabwe! – Like Oklahoma!… but with violence.
• May – A song for the digital photographer – Bobby Brown no longer accepts my calls.
• May – The movie I entered into Tropfest: Two Bricks – In case you're wondering, I didn't even make it in as a finalist

Leigh's Random Crap

• January – Happy Australia Day – What better way to say it than with a nice picture. 
• April – Fuji Astia CF Card – My April Fools Day prank of the year for Leighlo.com. Fooled some people. 
• June – Phone Home – I need a new phone now. I should probably re-read this. 
• June – The many uses of Jam Sessions DS – There I go… pushing the boundaries of what it's mean to be used for… 
• July – Johnny Suicide – Did you ever feel like you could just jump in front of a train? 
• September – Argh! 2007 – International Speak Like A Pirate Day, me lardy. I mean hardy. 
• November – Vivaldi leaves me – My cat abandoned me. I haven't seen him for ages…

The Jewish Santa that is, or so say some of the models from Thursday nights' outing.

“Ah yes,” you say. “Leigh must have something slightly more interesting to talk about other than him being sick or trying out a new gadget. Maybe this is one of those entries that someone other than me might be interested in.”

And then you'd quickly ask “Is there any nudity?” To which I'd reply… “no”. Followed by “I wish”.

The reason “I wish” is because tonight saw me as the plus-one of Wendell Teodoro at the Chadwick… thingy. Seriously, I don't know what it was. It was a party of some kind with some element of free booze with lots of beautiful women (and if you were so male inclined, probably beautiful men… who were gay).

Okay… I'm going to try to remember names here… from the left… Emma (on the bottom), Amanda (?!) on the top, then Wendell and then… Pip!

Yes, it was one of those parties I occasionally frequent although to be honest, I have no idea why I go. It's bloody obvious I'm the outsider.

I don't dress brilliantly. I don't smell of some flashy brand of perfume (though I do have them). I can't make sitting on the edge of a tacky leather “couch” look cool. I carry a camera bag. I'm really, really honest. And, oh, I wear a hat. This time a Santa hat. The same sort of my new Christmas-y logo is wearing off there to the right (unless you're reading this and it's not Christmas in which case that comment means completely nothing).

But all of that was irrelevant as tonight was Chadwick's Christmas thingy. Or I suspect it was a Christmas thing. I mean there were red drinks and… tinsel… and drunk people… and short of a revival of those “Bloody Mary” mirror horror stories, that reads as Christmas all over it. Sure, no one else was wearing a Santa hat and I didn't see any reindeer… but what other reason do people host a party in December?

Maybe the tinsel was all in my head.

I can't remember. So many drinks later, I still wasn't drunk… because, well, that's how I am… and Wendell was. I was giving him mints to placate his restless stomach that probably would have relieved itself right there and then on anything.

A very drunk Wendell and a very sexy Karla.

Ah yes, the evening. Of course. I hate getting off-topic and yet I do it so frequently.

So the evening was mainly a party. There were no speeches, no random people telling you to get bent, no bad attitudes… just lots of people having fun while the occasional police brigade walked through checking for minors.

I don't remember the progress of the night per se. What I do remember, however, is the people.

One of the things that I'm finding from being a writer is that I seem to be developing a sharper and keener ability to memorise places, feelings, and events.

The view of Kings Cross from the balcony. I was probably the only one to pay attention to that. I should probably pay more attention to the women next time. Ahhh… the women.

As a result, I can tell you that the floor overlooking what's practically the entrance to The Cross was a maze of hardwood floors and people. Red and yellow paper-styled vase lights echoing from the seventies shone from the ceiling and creating a relaxing dim light that bathed the entire bar. The couches and chairs were trendy, practically shadowing the feeling of the lights while the DJ's area bounced black lights off of disco balls in what seemed a nod to the seventies.

The DJ seemed to be enjoying himself enough to play through the seventies, eighties, and the nineties giving a packed & drunk audience exactly what they needed to propel themselves forward before the alcohol made them lose ground and fall backwards. The DJ didn't seem to mind. For half the night, he was lost in his own little black-light-lit world as the floors remained as barren as the bride of Frankenstein.

Emma and Lucy (with the head-band-y thing). What's so crap about this image is it's the only image I have of Emma & Lucy together. Here's hoping my memory can keep me going for how gorgeous Lucy is cause it's the only shot I have of her from the night, sadly.

I met Emma & Lucy early in the night. They're beautiful (which is a line you're likely to see quite frequently in this blog entry… someone fetch me a thesaurus!!!). Emma has model looks while Lucy is more of a natural the-girl-who's-your-friend beautiful… which is of course excellent and magnificent. As a result, they're both stunning and I don't think I've ever found the Kiwi accent so bloody sexy.

Grrr… "six" and "chip" and stuff. Mrowwwww!!!… and more stuff.

At one point, we had to help Lauren get in as she was having troubles so Wendell and I stood in front of the elevator for no apparent reason. As people passed by and tried to weave their way around us, we waited like two pigeons expecting that the biggest crumb was just going to magically appear before our eyes.

You know… one of these days, these ridiculous metaphors that I come up with are just going to come to life and then we're all doomed. Can you imagine two pigeons waiting for a giant crumb? What if the giant crumb could talk?! Anyway, onto the next picture.

Emma as candlelight bounces off of her face…

Emma again with more candlelight and the soft glow of streetlights behind her as she sipped champagne amidst the warmth of the party…

Now people who know me know that I've done a little bit of digital operation work. What that means is I sat behind a computer on fashion shoots and made sure stuff was in focus, cameras worked, and that images generally looked good while they were being shot. It's a relatively simple job (for me) and I quite enjoyed it.

One of my early jobs had me working as the Operator for a photographer out of New York named Gregory Kramer. The shoot in question was some sort of Sass & Bide shoot… I don't know who they are. Fashion label of sorts. Anyway, there's was a gorgeous model named Karla (maybe it's spelled with a C… probably is… I'll just use the "K" until I can be bothered to dig around Chadwick's site and find out for sure) who was being used. She was amazing and seemed quite perceptive. She was from New Zealand and was learning photography at the time. This would have been about a year to a year-and-a-half ago.

Guess who was there?

KARLA!!! (And a guy who looked like he may have been her boyfriend… a golfer or something…)

In fact, there was an entire entourage of New Zealand people. When you've just been re-introduced to how sexy the Kiwi accent can be, having an entourage of New Zealanders makes things interesting. Luckily for me, the entourage was mostly men so it wasn't that big o
f an issue. But imagine if they were all women… I'd have never been able to escape with my life (oh if only I were that lucky)!

Wendell Teodoro in black & white. I don't think I've ever used my signature moody black & white style for a portrait of Wendell yet, or before this anyway. Well… now I have!

By the way, I feel I have an obligation to comment on the state of a few important issues as a result of this party.

One is the definition of the word "beautiful" which is — for all intents and purposes — primarily useless when practically everyone around you is, in fact, beautiful.

Your vocabulary actually starts to develop penis envy for anyone that can swing a hammer and say something other than that specific word "beautiful". I feel that if I'm going to an event like a model party, I should probably come equipped with a thesaurus because really, "beautiful" just doesn't cut it. I mean look at some of the words thesaurus dot com spits out when I stick that word in:

• alluring
• angelic
• bewitching
• cute
• dazzling
• delicate
• divine
• enticing
• exquisite
• foxy
• gorgeous
• magnificent
• pretty
• pulchritudinous
• radiant
• ravishing
• resplendent
• sightly
• stunning
• sublime
• superb

I think I used "gorgeous", "beautiful", "stunning" and "brilliant" throughout the night. I use "brilliant" a lot actually.

Mind you, any of those could work to describe these beautiful girls! Shit… I used that word again. I really need to start paying attention to my own writings.

Then there's the other issue: height. 

Without playing the pun, height is a big issue especially when you're talking about people who happen to be err… umm… quite tall.

It's not that it makes you feel small. No, it's not that. Doesn't make you feel like any less of a person either. It's just a little… strange… to realise that you're actually in the minority and that you're walking around with really tall people.  People that you look up to… in a manner of speaking.

I happen to like tall girls. Girls taller than me.

You just can't help but feel like an Oompa Loompa at times. An Oompa Loompa without a song. 

Zoe.

Anyway, continuing on from those "important" issues.

At one point throughout the evening (I think it was as Wendell and I were getting some drinks), we saw Zoe Loveland, a girl I've had the pleasure of seeing in a photo shoot before when I was working as an Operator for James Cant.

She didn't seem to notice Wendell or myself. Oh well.

Emily hugs a drunk and now blind Wendell.

Emily did though, and that's much better. Very down to earth girl. Fantastic bubbling personality and sexy as all hell to boot.

Emily is one of those people that you'd probably find it impossible to hate. Or I guess you could, but you probably would have to have your heart ravaged by wild dogs with vicious attitudes and razor sharp teeth. But we're not talking about wild dogs here… we're talking about Emily, a girl I met some what recently when I went out after the Bowie party with Wendell and some of the crew from Cream. 

When the free tab is about to be closed and you might just have to start paying money for drinks, it should be noted that you can never really be too prepared.

All in all it was a fun night. I guess I would have loved to have come away with a kiss or a peck or something. Anything really. But spending time with some of these people and making some new friends (as well as seeing Wendell drunk) definitely made it quite fun.

Need to do it again soon. Real soon.  

More pics below.

Emma bathed in candlelight. Shot by Wendell Teodoro, processed by me.

Emma again shot by Wendell and processed by me.

Some of you may have been curious whose legs were used in that preview post I used recently… well, they're the property of the girl above: Emma.

Much like the first image in this blog, from left to right: Amanda (I think that's her name), Emily, Wendell, Pip, and some random person who just jumped in for no apparent reason… or maybe there was a reason… but I'm pretty sure it wasn't apparent… and it's not becoming apparent to me now or anytime soon. 

Wendell smoking in a high-grain sort of shot. If you squint, he sort of looks like Bob Dylan. Sort of.
Click on the image for a bigger image to look at…

From left to right: Pip, Lauren, and Wendell.

And you will.

Just not right now. I'm at work. Posting this in a spare moment while an image uploads.

But I will be putting something online hopefully later on tonight (if I'm not out and knowing my luck, I won't be).

I even started writing it when I got home last night.

But for the moment, here's a picture that more or less sums up the evening… you know, something to whet your appetites…

Sorry, err… umm… Wendell took that while drunk. Let's try that again. 

Something that more or less shows what last night's Chadwick party was all about.

 
Pip, Lauren and Wendell.

Ahhh… much better. More later.

Rick from CBN Media on the left and John Hepworth — a freelancer tech journalist — on the right.

There were people and drinks and little bits of what I'm sure some people recognise as food and while I'd normally write a big thing on it, I'm probably just going to give you a photographic journey with mostly captions beneath it because I'm really tired and I've been wanting to post these images for a few days now (and I just haven't gotten around to it).

So here it is… my lifeless (semi) blog entry filled with pictures of pretty people with the occasional side order of nifty story!

My brother on the left and Kim on the right.

My brother now works with me and since Howarth deal with us frequently, we both went to the ball. My brother's cool, by the way.
And there's Kim… if you go back about a month through my blog, you'll find Kim. I met her at the Bowie party which later got featured in the Herald when I kissed the lovely Kim on the cheek. 

Kim and Wendell.

Yes, that's Wendell. The Wendell. Fashion photographer and buddy Wendell was there assisting the gorgeous photographer Juliet, who was shooting the event.

That's Juliet. It's an image that doesn't need a caption. Beauty needs not to be defined, it only needs to exist. I don't know who said that. I don't think anyone said that. If it hasn't been said yet, I'll take credit for that and when you're out in public and you need to use it, credit me with either "a great man once said" or "a stupid fucking fool said". Anyway… 

At the party, there was a giant block of ice with the Howarth logo in it. People were running Vodka throughout it and taking shots. Alas, I have no pictures of that.

I do however have pictures of really pretty people.

Would you like to see really pretty people? (Okay, but only because you pretended to not ask silently by not asking at all… geeze, I give in far too easily)

Kim looks gorgeous against the light.

Juliet looks good. Very very very good. She could represent any scene…

It should be noted that Juliet is gorgeous. If you haven't picked up on that yet or need it reinforced in a different way (and honestly, I'm not sure how I'd prove it to you), Juliet is a stunning girl.

Wow. Really wow.

Lots of wow.

It's hard to look bad in Sepia. Juliet does it better. She looks freakin' amazing!

One of the neatest things in The Argyle was actually the toilets. They have got to have some of the most peculiar toilets I've seen. As a guy, you head to the cubicles and you're greeted with a shared sex area for the bathrooms. Not just that, there are around 5 personal cubicles. They look more like elongated oyster shells and you have to walk around them to find an empty one.

For the most part, it feels like you're pissing on modern art which in itself is a strange sensation albeit not an unexpected one, especially with today's art world. 

More images in the "to be continued" bit. 

Here are the rest of the images I promised you…

Juliet, Wendell, Fabrizio and Kim line up to have their picture taken by a completely unprofessional freak like me.

Kim looks into the freaky finger-lights The Argyle uses…

Juliet turns away…

A very harsh fashion-red treatment for Juliet.

Laughing is very healthy. Expert laugher and model photographer Juliet is seen here laughing her ass off.

More of Juliet…

…and yet still more of Juliet.

Tired now. Tired while I was writing this. Heading to bed now. 

Zzzz…

Okay. Only kidding.