Once upon a time back in about 1992 I was working for a commercial real estate brokerage in downtown L.A., which, to-date, has been one of my three favourite jobs — out of about 50+/- [which may or may not include temp assignments; I can't remember and I don't care, so stop interrupting!]. It seems archaic now, but back then we were using WordPerfect DOS which was up to about version 5.1 and getting ready to release their first Windows version. Which, for the record, we all HATED when it was unceremoniously dumped onto our PCs without us being given a single shred of training. So upset were we at the sudden loss of our hot-keys and shortcuts and the alien new environment that we insisted on having the DOS version restored!! Of course, once I knew how to use the software in a later job, I was assimilated into the Windows Cult. To this day, I am a hard-core, hard-wired WordPerfect user and I will defend it to the death.

The brokerage had a full-time graphic designer who worked in Pagemaker, but after they saw the graphic designs that I could do in WP DOS [yes, DOS!!], they let her go and gave me all of the graphics projects. At one point for shits and giggles I sent some of my designs into WordPerfect Magazine for DOS^® and they wrote me a charming letter saying that as far as they were concerned I was “blowing the limits out of” their software as they hadn’t even realised themselves the extent of what the programme could do! They invited me to start writing technical articles for the magazine, based on my designs, explaining exactly [step by excruciatingly-boring step] how to create the designs. Over the next couple of years they published about eight of my articles, all of which paid quite handsomely thank you very much.

In 1993, my then-husband and I relocated from Los Angeles to Boise, Idaho. In 1995, the magazine started an annual “Best Shot” contest with three categories: Best Make-over, Best Macro, Best Business Form. Around this same time I happened to wander into an upscale lingerie store in downtown Boise where I got into a casual chat with the store owner. She started telling me about a series of “lingerie luncheons” she was planning, and showed me the “flyer” that was to be distributed. The flyer consisted, basically, of two typewritten sheets…

When I saw that bland, matronly, sex-less piece of crap, I cheerily told her that I could “make some improvements” to the “flyer” … by the time we were done talking, I had sketched-out a redesigned two-sided quad-fold flyer which I later created in WordPerfect using some of their beautiful Victorian-style clip art graphics and an oh-so-sexy font:

Once folded, here’s how the front and back would look:

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By the end of our conversation, I had also been granted the print order for the flyers together with matching business cards — all of which we printed on a cream bond paper with brown ink. I had also been asked to model for the store, both in print for the newspaper advertisements and in person for the live shows which were scheduled to take place during both the day and some evenings. The shows themselves were an absolute blast. The models were lovely and fun and really easy to get along with. At first it was just female models, but later we did some co-ed shows and much to my amusement I was partnered with a male model who looked just like my then-husband … who was not in the least amused.

When WordPerfect Magazine came out with their Best Shots contest, I submitted my make-over design [along with a business form entry] … and much to my shock and delight, I won for Best Make-over!! Why shocked? because the magazine is headquartered in Utah!! I also ALMOST won the Best Business Form but they had JUST changed one of the requirements immediately before opening my entry. As a result, I won $1,000 and hubby and I were flown to Utah where I was to pose for the magazine cover with the other two winners. We were put up in a beautiful cabin at Robert Redford’s Sundance Ski Resort where we met The Man Himself in the restaurant at dinner one night. [Even at 60-odd back then I would totally have done him.] I have to mention here that the resort was designed to be very ecological, and thus the dining room was built around a tree that grew up through an opening in the ceiling. Unfortunately, the genius who came up with that idea didn’t take into account that the tree would subsequently die because of the extreme difference in temperature between the roots and the upper tree … oopsie. I began to wonder at one point whether we were being fattened for some sort of human sacrifice as the magazine staff — who were terrific and not remotely preachy Mormon-types — kept feeding and feeding us!

The contest winners’ photos were to be taken for the magazine cover by what turned out to be a rather surly professional photographer, but we were not provided with a professional hair/make-up artist. When we arrived at the studio I discovered to my absolute HORROR that we were to be posing with a giant Oscar statue cut-out that was probably about 7-feet tall. Why, I wondered, had I bothered to dress so nicely when I had to climb up a stepladder, cling to a flimsy cardboard statue, and then follow the idiot photographer’s instruction to “do something goofy”. All I could think to do without toppling off the stepladder was to stick one leg out to the side and then they didn’t use that photo anyway so I risked my lovely swan-like neck for nothing. For the love of Zeus, you could barely see me behind the stupid prop. Of course, it was a piece of cake for my two fellow geeks winners who, for the record, came out looking far better in the photos than they did in real life. As for me? The photos, let’s say, were not exactly flattering …

… so thank heaven I was “only” on the magazine cover AND in the inside when the contest edition was published two months later … and that said magazine was passed around the entire law firm where I was then-working. The editor’s opening paragraph of the article is actually quite amusing, it begins — and I quote — “I know, I know, up until now WordPerfect Magazine has never had a need to show you a lingerie program, …”

Here’s a titillating little bonus lingerie programme that I did after the store owner decided she wanted to “kick it up a notch” for one of the evening shows [sketches also by Yours Truly ... why they're not hanging in a national art gallery defeats me] and asked me to be the show coordinator doing everything from selecting the outfits to interviewing additional models, etc. [at least I got paid a lot more]. As you can see, I had my usual childish fun with the titles:

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Needless to say, my then-husband was a lot more amused by the cringe-worthy photos than he was by the aforementioned male model.

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^©www.danjeruskurves.com. Reproduction of the image(s) on this page in any form is strictly prohibited. The contents herein are protected by the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. Furthermore, if you steal my artwork, I will hunt you down and publicly humiliate you.

Morning sickness … it’s not just for the pregnant any more!

My first step towards accidental alcoholism came when I was roughly 8 years of age. My parents had held a rare party at the house and even more rare my mother had gone to bed without cleaning up. Thus it came to pass that the next morning a sleepy 8-year old girl stumbled into the kitchen in search of a glass of water, spied one sitting conveniently on the kitchen worktop, and helped herself to a lovely big gulp. Only it wasn’t water … it was either gin or vodka, I don’t remember which and I was too drunk at the time to make note of it. According to an eyewitness, but sadly lost to my own memory, I performed a brief but impressive concerto on an imaginary piano before grabbing a bucket, swinging the bucket and myself around in circles, and then puking … all while my family looked on in horror.

A couple of mornings ago I took an abrupt descent into intermediate alcoholism … for about 9 years in Houston I would go to my hole-in-the-wall dance club almost every Friday night which is when they play the type of music I like to dance to [80s alternative, formerly known as "New Wave" in the actual 80s]. Unlike most people I cannot dance worth a damn if I drink, so I restrict myself to one small cocktail [rotgut vodka and Red Bull] just to take off the edge. I like that combination because I get an energy boost from the Red Bull but the vodka mellows it out enough so I don’t hang from the ceiling by my fingernails. I’m highly caffeine-intolerant so when I pop open a can of Red Bull I then decant it into a plastic soda bottle, screw the cap on tightly, and ration it out to myself about 1-ounce at a time over the course of a week or three. To give you an idea of how long it lasts, I bought a case of Red Bull at Sam’s Club about 18 months ago, there are six cans left plus the half-drank bottle in the fridge.

On nights that I simply couldn’t bring myself to drive to the club I’d sometimes dance at home instead; barefoot and by candlelight. I’ve kept up that tradition since moving to Boise and sometimes I’ll have my cocktail [if I can afford the ultra-cheap vodka which begs to be drowned in some kind of mixer] and at others I’ll just substitute orange-flavoured sparkling water for the vodka. I can’t always finish either the cocktail or the virgin version of it and I hate to waste the relatively expensive Red Bull, so I slap foil over the glass and in the fridge it goes. Usually I’ll have the virgin cocktail with breakfast the next day or the vodka cocktail pre-dinner because I am that sophisticated. I know, I’m a Wild One alright!

I happened to have some leftover orange juice in a plastic take-away cup on Sunday morning as well as one of my virgin cocktails and I decided it would make a lovely drink to go with my 9-grain toast. I poured them together and took a lovely big Good Morning!-sized gulp … only I’d somehow conveniently forgotten that there was, in fact, vodka in the drink. Which I proceeded to elegantly splutter all over myself.

Looks like I’ll be headed to rehab any day now.

I even gave myself a gratuitous little bubble or four. If you can’t laugh at yourself . . . well, don’t worry about it, I’m sure somebody is laughing at you!

I always wondered how come a lot of homeless people could be so fat … as it turns out, eating a poor-but-cheap carb-laden diet can do that to a person.

This is certainly the fattest I’ve ever been before, so there will be no further body shots before I’ve lost some weight!

Or after I turn 50 in July.

Although, as a testament to my fabulous air-brushing skills, there is a calendar on the wall behind me and I completely disappeared it!

Ultra dark blue nail polish found in Boise
Pearls from Los Angeles
Hat from New Orleans
Lingerie from Paris, France
Model from Kent, England

Why, yes, I think you could say that I’ve been around!

*sigh* … due to my present self-imposed exile in BFI, I am going to miss out on all of Houston’s pre-Lent debauchery.

As far as Lent goes this year though, yet again I’m going to give up Lent. I can do that, see, because I’m not a Christian. Go ahead,
envy me for those few l-o-n-g weeks of deprivation!

Happy Mardi Gras my lovelies!!

Now run along and flash somebody!
[preferably somebody over the age of 18]

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Just a reminder, my lovelies — if you leave a comment that includes a smiley, you have to put a hyphen in the middle, like so: :-D

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^©www.danjeruskurves.com. Reproduction of the image(s) on this page in any form is strictly prohibited. The contents herein are protected by the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. Furthermore, if you steal my artwork, I will hunt you down and publicly humiliate you.

One of the things I truly enjoy about my bank branch is how laid-back and friendly the tellers are. It is standard practice for them to hold lengthy catch-up conversations with each and every customer. There is rarely more than 1 or 2 people queueing up, and thus far nobody has objected to waiting an extra minute or three while the conversation at the counter runs its course. I happen to find this to be quite quaint — it’s a sort of 5-minute therapy session. Since I’m an unemployed deadbeat in no particular rush, I have come to relish this local custom. Well that and the fact that my favourite teller is from California so we keep finding bits n’bobs in common to gossip about. My bank appears to have a pretty strict hiring policy — ALL of their employee chicks are really attractive! I know I shouldn’t call them ‘chicks’, it’s sexist and broads hate that, but really it’s the bank that is being sexist by only hiring good-looking babes, so don’t blame me Judgey von Judgerstein.

Imagine my sheer delight when I walked into the bank recently and found this customer in front of me:

After all the ongoing misery of dealing with my neighbourhood’s multiple barking dogs, this one reminded me of all the things I love about doggies! She was just an all-around sweetiepie, she not only didn’t make a peep but she insisted on rolling over for me. She also grinned, wiggled, and wagged non-stop! [Seriously, has anybody thought about harnessing the power of a happy dog's super-wagging tail for alternate energy?]

I mean, honest to goodness, that tail did not stop joyously wagging. Her human was engrossed in conversation with The Awesome Teller so I got to spend some Happy Time with his doggie. When he realised I was waiting he tried to apologise and move away but I asked him to please continue with his conversation as I was in no hurry and was having fun with the puppy … as I fumbled with my cellphone trying desperately to remember how to turn on the stupid camera function *cough* which turned out to be a lot simpler than my addled brain was trying to convince me.

Best banking experience ever. The only thing that can top this is if the bank accidentally deposits somebody else’s lottery winnings into my account and I drain the funds before they realise.

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^©www.danjeruskurves.com. Reproduction of the image(s) on this page in any form is strictly prohibited. The contents herein are protected by the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. Furthermore, if you steal my artwork, I will hunt you down and publicly humiliate you. OK, not really for THESE particular photos, but you get the drift.