Burlycise, Part 1: Workin' it for the Working Girls
Usually, I have good ideas. Especially when setting up themed portrait sessions with my eternal muse, roller derby mama Kim Burly. Today, our 80's BurlyCise photoshoot was a little misguided. I didn't think that the country backdrop by her house that we normally use was the right fit for her leopard thongitard outfit, so I thought, "let's head to motel drive, I think there's this cool Hollywood mural we could use." To which Kim replied, "As long as the cops don't mistake me for a prostitute, I'm in."
Even though this sentiment registered with me, I really didn't grasp the full weight of her concern and happily skipped over to dirty ol' Motel Drive, where I would soon have a fundamental Fresno rite of passage.
Fifteen minutes into the shoot, our new toothless cracked out "friend" approached us. He asked if he could just "watch;" apparently at one point he touched me while creepily saying something like: "she's so perfect" in Kim's direction. I don't remember this happening, I must have blocked it from my memory in order to avoid future nightmares. A few minutes after that, his girlfriends surrounded us, spewing out crazy mumblings about who they are, who to avoid and so forth. One girl looked over at our first friend and pointed out that his wound was oozing blood again--GROSS!
We managed to tune them out long enough for them to get the hint and wander off, until two other toothless hookers approached us and inquired about my professional rates. At this point I remember Kim motioning me to hurry up and wrap up the shoot. Less than 45 minutes to sundown, time to scram. I knew I only had a few pictures in the bag that were good, so we would have to finish later, in a much safer location.
On our way out, the cops who had been interrogating potential prostitutes down the street pulled up next to my car to ask "what the hell we were doing." I explained the shoot and how Kim had recently lost 30 pounds so we wanted to show off her body with neon leotards next to the cool, kitschy motel signs. They rolled their eyes and were sure to note that we were in a "dangerous area" and I could have easily gotten my camera gear stolen (yeah right, Kim and I had weights and giant trophies to take any thief down with, and we could tie them up with the jumprope). A few eyerolls later and the cops let us go, us laughing the whole time.
After that, Kim decided that I am no longer in charge of picking out locations on the bad side of town without a bodyguard present.
Not that I don't know how to treat a lady. Later, she was sure to tell me: "This was the most fun afternoon ever. Thanks for helping me check 'toothless ho's' off my bucket list."
So without further adieu, this is Burlycise, Part 1: Workin' it for the Working Girls
Even though this sentiment registered with me, I really didn't grasp the full weight of her concern and happily skipped over to dirty ol' Motel Drive, where I would soon have a fundamental Fresno rite of passage.
Fifteen minutes into the shoot, our new toothless cracked out "friend" approached us. He asked if he could just "watch;" apparently at one point he touched me while creepily saying something like: "she's so perfect" in Kim's direction. I don't remember this happening, I must have blocked it from my memory in order to avoid future nightmares. A few minutes after that, his girlfriends surrounded us, spewing out crazy mumblings about who they are, who to avoid and so forth. One girl looked over at our first friend and pointed out that his wound was oozing blood again--GROSS!
We managed to tune them out long enough for them to get the hint and wander off, until two other toothless hookers approached us and inquired about my professional rates. At this point I remember Kim motioning me to hurry up and wrap up the shoot. Less than 45 minutes to sundown, time to scram. I knew I only had a few pictures in the bag that were good, so we would have to finish later, in a much safer location.
On our way out, the cops who had been interrogating potential prostitutes down the street pulled up next to my car to ask "what the hell we were doing." I explained the shoot and how Kim had recently lost 30 pounds so we wanted to show off her body with neon leotards next to the cool, kitschy motel signs. They rolled their eyes and were sure to note that we were in a "dangerous area" and I could have easily gotten my camera gear stolen (yeah right, Kim and I had weights and giant trophies to take any thief down with, and we could tie them up with the jumprope). A few eyerolls later and the cops let us go, us laughing the whole time.
After that, Kim decided that I am no longer in charge of picking out locations on the bad side of town without a bodyguard present.
Not that I don't know how to treat a lady. Later, she was sure to tell me: "This was the most fun afternoon ever. Thanks for helping me check 'toothless ho's' off my bucket list."
So without further adieu, this is Burlycise, Part 1: Workin' it for the Working Girls