Oversized greasy arm prints are all over the passenger side windows of my car - the unfortunate product of having a bumbling AAA person come to my rescue. And I will be suing Brooks Brothers for making women's shorts with shallow pocket which ensues in keys floating out of pockets, onto car seat - necessitating calls to big and bumbling AAA men who fail after 40 minutes of fishing around with a T-19 and keep joking about with their little buddy in the truck blocking one of two lanes of traffic and you're holding the guy's greasy flashlight shouting You've almost got it as you watch the orange-colored latch nearly pop open but then the bumbling man stops and then he and his little buddy roll up the tool kit, heading back to their truck as you ask/shout NOW What? A locksmith's coming, they announce, and wheel off into the night. So then you call AAA and say This is unacceptable, ridiculous even as the AAA men call you back and say Oh, we found a NEW tool and we're on our way back and all I can think is the dispatcher might tell them about my tirade but nope, they show up, retrieve the wedges that they left in my windows from before, fish around with the NEW tool and 8 seconds later I am absolutely free, a former LOCK-OUT.

A weekend, just as I prefer:
Concerts each and every night, including an all-day 2-day music festival and an appearance by thee Dave - as in Matthews, bien sur.
I'm shooting for a third... DAVE I LOVE YOU YOU ROCK with the Iloveyou sign language gesture backstage to surprise him. Maybe he'll recall his mad photojournalist stalker.
There's grayness hanging over the Middling City which throws little shiny and tiny wrenches into the imaging works for
(P)recipitation + D1H/camera + (E)xuberance = shorted-out camera and sadness.
Nothing goes worse with cameras than water, sand and car crashes.
Made appointment with printing guru yesterday to learn, one-on-one, the secrets of making digital files into screenprinting screens for upcoming NYSCA-funded revelry of exhibitionistic variety. Told printing guru that I'm going to print on steel, that they're monochromatic and that they will abso-fuckin-lutely rock.
I can't divulge what the images are as Team A gives up no secrets.
Our opening happens on Friday the 13th of September - come and play and see.
More details later. On to rock. On to roll. On to turbo-powered COFFEE at my favored joint where the girls are forgetful, the patio is art-strewn and the food is better than anything I'd ever muster from the dusty kitchen hellhole.
Love.

(Said Laura, I want to check out that other bar, Aluminum. She screamed.)
Dig: when I write Said Laura it means I/Perfect Nancy am saying "Laura..." but without the corny quotation marks. So Laura calls today and says I did NOT say that I wanted to check out Aluminum and I was most confused. People, work with me. Quotes begin with caps and sometimes you have to read between the proverbial lines. And another thing, if I hang with you on Saturday and have raucous good fun must I always report so? The mission of epinw is not to give away all my perfect secrets or to report all.
Oh, tonight Eminem is performing at the hockey concert complex and he said a big NO to me/my newspaper and said YES only to AP and to the musty daily. His photo documentation loss.
Onwards. Love.

430: alarm sounds
515: arrive at new Krispy Kreme in Cheektowaga, New York - built over the ghosts of the K-Mart automotive shop.
530: officially punch in after schmoozing about. Shoot two guys, one in pj's, who arrived at 4AM to be the first through the KK side doors!
545: shoot other mayhem
615: mayhem subsides
630: KK officials are visibly disappointed. Your Perfect Nancy eats a doughnut, hot off the presses.
635: some nice guy fetches your Fav and Perfect Nancy a cuppa joe and it does not suck as the last cup of KK koffee did.
640: abandon cuppa joe and schmooze about more.
700: stand with a few other media types, of the radio variety, and one of them muses This is a great country, when we can all stand around watching the sun come up, eating doughnuts and getting PAID. We all concur.
702: develop my theory that the guy sitting at the edge of the parking lot facing new KK, staring at new KK, is a stalker and his stalkee is a new KK employee inside. One of the radio types embellishes - the stalker has a rifle that will be whipped out at some point. I note that the "stalker" has only a tshirt and shorts on... impossible.
704: woman from KK, in shiny new KK tshirt, brings a dozen out to the guy in the lot = not a stalker after all.
705: I comment to Oldies radio types that I still think their station rocks as they play Neil. The most aged radio "personality" says Neil does not test well amongst their listeners. I run into KK, grab hot doughnut grease and toss it at that silly geezer. KIDDING!
707: get into conversation with another media type about piercings, etc.
715: really getting to be time to split and finish up the film, say goodbyes and at 745: hit the ol' highway for points beyond.

What did I learn from 530-730?
People love doughnuts, love freebies from radio stations, that they look sort of rumpled at 530AM, that KK tosses out the rumpled doughnuts and that all people who appear to be stalkers are not.
Love.

My big ol' corporate gig for tomorrow AM - for Krispy Kreme - has been changed from an 830 start time to... dig this... 530. I haven't seen the other side of 530 in ages. The last time I had a gig shooting another KK opening I was hired at 7+ and there CROWDS OF PEOPLE WHO HAD DRIVEN FROM FAR AND WIDE TO BE THERE WHEN THE DOORS OPENED, AND SOME EVEN SLEPT OVERNIGHT IN THE P-LOT, concert style. People trouble me. Some.
So your dear sweet tarpit-hearted perfect Nancy will begin tomorrow with a spring in her step, joy in her eyes and glistening blobs of fat and sugar in her imaging system/body.
Onwards to deadlines, more deadlines, chaos and tapas.
Love.