#like it sucks photography studios are dead now but it happens unfortunately.

[ridragon]

If you are capable of replacing any ai complaints with the word Photoshop and match the quote to things people actually said back when that was introduced maybe you should think about how wrong and silly we see those anti Photoshop people now. That's just my salt on the topic. Idk.

[kainumbernine009]

I literally cannot do anything else until I get this out.

I’m... really not okay.

And when I say that, I’m not mentally unstable. I say that because I’m tired of waiting on empty promises, I’m tired of never having money in our account, I’m tired of living in a fucking city where half of the white people fucking worship the ground Trump walks on, and where most of the gay community has so much messy drama that it’s worse than middle school. And I went to a rough middle school.

I never talk about my past, because I don’t like to. It sucked. HARD. Being and only child in my family was nothing less than torture, especially as a closeted queer person. We grew up in the white Christian part of Nashville that dominated Music Row in the 90′s and early 2000′s. I played basketball with Alan Jackson’s daughter, and being around famous people was just no big deal. But, my parents decided to leave Nashville after my dad lost his job at TPAC, and we moved down south an hour to the town where the KKK got started (Pulaski, TN).

I had maybe two non-white people in my private Christian school growing up. I was never afraid of Black people, but my parents showed their racist asses quick when we moved there. The KKK has never left America, guys, no matter how many articles you read or studies you do. From 2005 to 2009 I saw a white town show its very worst to the Black community. I’ll never forget the first time I saw a march for “White Christians for Purity” the summer before Obama got elected. The disgust I felt inside was palpable. I had all kinds of friends in school, and I didn’t give TWO SHITS who they were or what they looked like... but I saw children my age, being brainwashed by their parents, that “white” is “right.”

Ever since then, I have been learning and growing about the issues of race. I remember my white classmates using the N word and getting away with it. I remember hearing about the principal at the high school punishing all the Black kids but not the white kids. I remember being invited to a church south of town that was a historically Black church, and how nice the ladies were to me for coming.

But I’ll never forget the racism that the religious groups promoted there, especially First Baptist Church and the 12 Tribes. I’ll never forget how FBC told me that my friend was going to Hell because she killed herself. I’ll never forget my mom telling me not to marry a Black man because of “impure genes.” I WILL NEVER FORGET THE INJUSTICES I SAW WHITE PEOPLE DOING TO BLACK PEOPLE THERE. NEVER.

And thank God, I have shaken the burden of religious guilt, but I still fight against this mentality. I live in a place that’s usually not even 10 minutes away from Trump-humping, sister-fucking, meth-addicted Confederate cunts in any direction. And we’re even closer to the rich white people who silently supported him, upset that their taxes would go up because of Biden.

And in the past four years since Trump got elected, I’ve gotten married, graduated college with honors, started my own photography business, and was making more than my husband there for a minute. I did my own taxes, marketing, editing, and everything. And then I came out as trans.

I lost everything.

I lost my studio. I lost friends. I had rumors started about me. I had people post hate messages on my wall. I had people at my drag shows tell others not to tip me, for whatever fucking reasons. I’ve had bosses give cis people jobs over me, and I’ve had government workers give me second looks when I hand them my license.

It. Fucking. Sucks. To. Live. Here. Like. This.

Oh yeah, did I mention I’m also a witch/medium? I’ve talked to dead people before and have told their relatives things I shouldn’t have known otherwise about their grandparents. Like, this information doesn’t even exist on Google. And I’m attuned to reiki. I’m always aware of what’s happening on at least SOME metaphysical level. This is a gift that I’ve had to go through life developing and learning about myself, with no one’s help but me.

I didn’t even know until I was an adult that I have autism and ADHD.

I’ve taken bullets from people who were about to kill themselves. I’ve yelled at 5th grade music classrooms for doing racist dance moves and appropriating Native Americans (I have a degree in Music Education K-12). I’ve consoled kids in classrooms who suddenly have panic attacks. AND I’ve told horny teenagers to stay in their fucking lane and respect the girls around them. I’ve apparently been an inspiration to those around me, but inspiration NOR exposure pays the bills. I’ve already had COVID, and so has my husband, but I knew that after graduating college that I would never have a fulfilling life being a music teacher in Tennessee’s public schools.

And now that we have COVID, and an orange, small-dicked, pedophilic, rape apologizing, dirty, crusty white president who STILL REFUSES TO CONCEDE, who is DIRECTLY RESPONSIBLE FOR HAVING HIS FOLLOWERS SEND DEATH THREATS TO MY FAMILY, I really don’t know what the fuck else to do other than go burn down all the houses I know of in North Georgia that belong to these Christian sex cult pedophiles and call it a day. My girlfriend unfortunately was born into one of those families, and I know just how bad it can get. In fact, her dad’s lawyer threatened me with blackmail earlier in November, so that was fun!

And now, on December 11, 2020, I’m still sitting here in the same fucking house, doing the same fucking things I’ve been doing all year - trying to get a job and failing horribly. I’M SICK AND TIRED OF THIS COVID BULLSHIT AND OUR INCOMPOTENT CUNT OF A PRESIDENT! And there’s only ever one other person I’ve ever called a cunt... my own mother.

I’ve lived in many places. I’ve met many different people. I’ve made mistakes, and have grown, but there’s one thing for damn sure that I always make sure to do, every single fucking day.

I ALWAYS try to do better.

In addition to this, I treat everyone with the same amount of respect, unless they have done something directly to me to negate that. If I know that someone believes in something that directly harms me or my family, I don’t even associate with them. I don’t spend my energy on things that don’t need it. And everyone else should, too.

The problem with some of y’all is that you care about the wrong things. Like will Becky text me back or did I get front row seats to that concert, or did I slave my life away to capitalism just so that I can own a Mercedes and have my friends jealous. I’ve had way too many dear death experiences to know that EVERY single fucking day is a gift. EVERY day.

I don’t want to be remembered first for the art I create. I want to be remembered for my character. I want to be remembered as the courageous person who never backed down in the face of adversity. But when you live in a place that already hates you and that is against you, that’s really fucking hard. Trust me. My marriage went from a cis straight passing couple to a white gay passing couple. I’ve seen how people’s attitudes changed around me as I transitioned. I know what it feels like to slowly lose a piece of your privilege you were born with.

So yeah, I kinda get a little fucking upset when I see people saying All Lives Matter, or when I see doctors refusing to treat trans patients in pandemics, or when I see cops YET AGAIN harassing Black people only a few blocks away from my house for no other reason than racism. And at this point, anyone who thinks they know me but only knows what people think they know about me can suck my entire ass and eat ten dicks. I don’t give a FUCK about who you are or what you’ve done. If you treat me or other people with no respect for no reason other than to be an asshole, you’re just plain shit. If you SERIOUSLY believe every little rumor and lie that someone tells about me before meeting me, fuck you AND the horse you rode in on.

What I can’t stand is people doing or saying things just to get a rise out of me or others. I thought we left petty shit in high school. Some of the people that “know” me really need to fucking grow up and grow a pair and either say what they want to my face, or stay mad. I’m tired of playing fucking petty games with y’all. We have a whole ass pandemic to solve.

So here’s the ultimatum... if you agree that Black Lives Matter and that queer people deserve basic human rights, EVEN THE ONES YOU HATE, then that’s the bare minimum to even be a decent person. If you can’t even do those things, then I don’t fucking know what else to say to you.

So NBC, maybe not have John Mulaney joke about my license debacle with my gold van on SNL, and Seth Meyers... maybe HIRE ME INSTEAD of Mulaney because clearly y’all don’t know about the south as much as I do? Oh, and that gazeebo joke with Lee University... I caught that. I may have autism, but I’m not a fucking idiot. I mean. I’m funny when I’m given the chance. And yeah, I’m on a watchlist, but who the fuck isn’t these days? At least all my secrets are out for the world to see, and I have a bangin’ tattoo.

I’m tired of everyone being like “omg, I’ve seen what he can do, it’s fantastic!” or “omg you’re so funny haha” and bragging on me and then NOT FUCKING HIRING ME. I’m TIRED of waiting on something that’s clearly at this point never coming.

I don’t even have testicles, and my balls are bigger than most of the cis men I have EVER met.

So, if you want to help me, or hire me, or get me out to an audition... I’ll be there. But until then, I’m so fucking MAD at some of these producers. Yeah, my mom is a cunt, but she worked in various forms of digital production from the 1980′s until she retired this year. She taught me SO MUCH about directing, writing, shooting, and more. I know how these things are supposed to run behind the scenes. I know what the fuck I’m doing, and I don’t take constructive criticism like a bitch. I actually WANT to be criticized, so I can do even better.

So PLEASE, for the love of Christ... y’all need to get your priorities together AND PLEASE STOP LEAVING ME OUT OF THE LOOP WITH THIS BULLSHIT. Grow a fucking pair and either call me, email me, or leave me alone. It’s really not that fucking hard. Looking at you, Lorne Michaels.

Oh and someone tell my husband what the fuck’s been going on because I’m tired of him gaslighting me about it.

[shirtlesssammy]

Hollywood Babylon: 2x18 Recap

On a dark and unstormy night, at a cabin in the woods, a porch swing creaks ominously. With flashlight in hand, a woman walks around yelling for her friends. Nerves increasingly frayed, she hears a rustling from the woods. “Hello? Hello?!” Suddenly a hand grabs her from behind. She screams and turns to find her friend, Brody.

Panicked, he screams that Ashley and Todd are dead! The woman, Wendy, tells Brody to pull it together. They have to leave! Brody takes off. Wendy hears more rustling and the camera suddenly chases up behind her. She turns and garbles out a pitiful scream.

CUT!

Whew, it’s all just a movie, guys! The director comes out to talk to Wendy/Tara. Tara’s having a hard time finding her fright acting opposite a tennis ball. During the ten minute break Tara overhears one of the stagehands talking about strange things happening on the set-- it’s haunted! Later, Tara heads to a quiet corner of the stage to practice her scream. She hears a noise, walks a bit to some scaffolding, and finds the bloodied corpse of the stagehand! Cue REAL SCREAM!

The Winchester Boys are on vacation! They’re taking a tour of the Warner Brother’s backlot, and Dean couldn’t be happier. (It’s cool, Dean. I remember touring Universal and nerding out as well.)

During the tour they see the set of Gilmore Girls. (They might even see one of the stars, if they’re lucky! --did not get that the first time I watched it. Jared’s scared face is gold.)

Sam insists they bail on the tour so they take off and start wandering the backlot alone. Dean sees Matt Damon! (what a bean) It seems that Sam has a case but Dean just wants to enjoy a vacation. He also wants to help Sam take his mind off of Madison (whaa, that just happened in the previous episode. Sammy!) A Winchester is a Winchester though, and he wants to work to take his mind off of things.

Sam tells Dean about the possibly haunted set and dead crew member. Dean wonders if it’s like Poltergeist --and is severely offended when Sam doesn’t get that reference. Dean wonders about the victim, aside from his name -Frank Jaffey- Sam doesn’t have much. He does know that the actress, Tara Benchley, who found him, saw a vanishing figure. Dean is now 100% on board --he’s fan of her work (much like Dr. Sexy and Suzy, right Dean?)

They sneak on set to find one of the studio execs giving helpful tips to the director.

Bill Lumbergh Brad Redding calls Dean over, mistaking him for a PA. Dean’s confused at first and Sam covers for him. Dean catches on and is soon checking out the set while handing out smoothies from craft. Filming starts while he checks out the scaffolding for any EMF. He gets no readings. Sam and him reconvene next to craft services and while Dean has nothing to report on the case, he can’t stop waxing poetic about the plethora of food (it’s so funny, but then I’m reminded of the kid that often went without food so his little brother could eat --not the time, Boris!) Sam discovered that four people have died on the set over the years. Dean discovers an unoccupied Tara Benchley. He’s his awkward self at first but quickly turns on the confident charm. He asks her about the victim, she tells him about what happened, and then shows him a photo of the man. “Son of a bitch.” Dean recognizes the man!

Yep, Frank Jaffey isn’t real, and the man, hired for the day to stir up the fright levels on set, is a character actor that Dean knew from another film. They track him down. He spills everything.

Back to filming on set, one of the crew hears feedback with the sound. Brad continues to give his unsolicited advice about the film. “If the ghosts are in hell, how do they hear the chanting? I mean, what do they have, super-hearing?” he scoffs. He’s distracted with a call though and wanders off to take it. Once alone, he’s greeted by a woman that’s all black and white --with severe neck wounds. He doesn’t think they’ll read on camera though. She undresses -why?- and climbs the scaffolding --he follows. And ends up on the wrong end of a rope.

They keep filming! In their defense, they did have a moment of silence for him at breakfast. Dean has also fully embraced his new job, mic headset and all. Tara’s having a hard time accepting the premise of the movie. As the crew bickers about the absurdity of what ghosts would be afraid of, one of the crew, Walter, storms off in a huff. Sam checks in and gets PA!Dean, not hunter!Dean. Dean feels like part of the team (crying noise, crying noise). Sam converses with Dean while Dean converses with someone on his headset -GOLD. Dean has something to show Sam.

Dean and Sam head to a trailer to watch dailies (which he got from Cindy who has this on and off thing going on with Drew and oh my god Dean is adorable in this episode). They watch the video of the studio executive's death and Sam notices the ghost standing on the side of the room. “It’s like Three Men and a Baby all over again,” mutters Dean. He then has to fill Sam in on the whole urban legend he’s referencing. Sam mostly ignores Dean’s discussion of spirit photography in favor of squinting at the ghost on the screen. He’s seen her before.

The Winchesters resettle on set. Sam tries to drop his latest factoid about the latest ghost but keeps getting interrupted by happy PA Dean, the most adorable PA in all the land. The ghost was ‘30’s starlet Elise Drummond who got screwed over by studio brass and hung herself. Time to salt and burn, baby! The production wraps for the day so Sam and Dean head out in the misty graveyard. Dean bought a $5 map of famous graves and it was TOTALLY WORTH IT.

They dig up her grave to a montage. As always they are utter sticklers for digging perfectly rectangular graves. Salt. Lighter fluid. Book of matches. PHWOOMPH.

At the studio the producer chats on his cell phone when all the lights go out. He wanders through the fake woods of the set when he spots a creepy dude in the trees. The guy turns and his head is completely chopped up and bloody. A huge fan turns on and the producer is drawn inexorably into it. This can only end in one way: the blood cannon.

With the unfortunate producer a pile of chopped liver and spattered blood, we cut to a preview teaser for the movie, Hell Hazers II: the reckoning.

“From the producers of Cornfield Massacre, Monster Truck, and the director of Charlie’s Angels, Charlie’s Angels Full Throttle, and Hell Hazers…” “We must have brought them back. Back from Hell. Again.”

Sam ties the death-by-fan to the death of an electrician in the sixties. “These things don’t usually tag team,” Dean says.

“Maybe the spirits are trying to shut down the movie ‘cause they think it sucks,” Sam ponders later while lounging on a couch in one of the trailers watching dailies. In the film the actress begins to recite the summoning ritual from the book and Sam sits up and listens to the words. She’s reading a real necronomicon-level summoning ritual!

The Winchesters head to Marty’s office. They tell him that they read the script and they are just HUGE fans of it. They gush over the summoning rituals and authentic Enochian… “What, you mean that latin crap?” Ugh, Marty had nothing to do with that. It was Walter-the-PA who wrote all of that (who is, in fact, just the original writer who is contractually allowed to hang around set). Walter’s screenplay was all “wackadoo exposition” with no love interest so Marty had to hack it apart to get it to a usable state for the movie.

Cut to Dean and Sam reading Walter’s original script. It’s good, reports our dear, devoted reader Dean! “And it reads like a how-to manual on conjuration,” Sam says. It shows “motive and means” for Walter to be the one in control of the recent infestation of killer ghosts.

Walter meets up with Marty in the creepy woods of the set. Walter complains about the loss of his original script. “It was real,” he said. (You know. Truth. TRUTH.)

“We’re talking about ghosts, Walter. There’s no such thing.” Marty returns. Walter holds up a mysterious amulet and begins to chant. Choppy fan ghost shows up and begins to drag Marty towards the fan. Suddenly a shotgun roars out and fan ghost disappears.

“You are one hell of a PA,” Walter says.

Sam tells Walter that the jig is up. Bringing ghosts into the world to wreak bloody vengeance can backfire. Walter summons another ghost anyway, though. The room goes all Ghostbusters: Revenge of the Ghosts and they’re suddenly faced with three ghosts approaching menacingly. Sam, Dean, and Marty barricade themselves in the cabin.

“I can’t believe that ghosts are real,” Marty says breathlessly.

“What makes you say that?” Dean asks while loading his shotgun. Lol, Dean. Sam figures out that the talisman is controlling the ghosts and heads off to confront Walter. Dean and Marty hunker in the cabin, Marty holding up a phone to track for ghosts while Dean takes them out like targets at a carnival booth.

Sam confronts Walter, who dashes the talisman to the floor, breaking it. Sam warns him that he just freed the ghosts and they are gonna be pissed off at Walter! Walter is entirely unconcerned until he’s ripped down to the floor and torn into bloody shreds.

Back with the movie production, they’re hunting ghosts. With a shotgun. And a cell phone. Narrative exposition has been added to the movie to explain things like, why can you see ghosts in a phone? (Me: cry laughs this is the best.) Sam looks upon the production with disgust and heads off the set into the lot where Tara’s trailer is, uh, a-rockin’. Dean leaves Tara’s trailer with a satisfied grin.

“You’re one hell of a P.A.,” she says as she bids him farewell, wrapped only in a robe. Yeah, he is.

Boris: This episode is special to me because it was the first one that I remember thinking that this special little show isn’t just an X-Files redux. (Wow, it took me awhile to get into this show!) Dean was on vacation --and it shows. He is so (pre-hell) cocky and joyous about being on a film set. I feel like, when we discuss performing!Dean and how he has had to bury his true self for so long, it amazes me how close to the surface his true self is.

In Hollywood, Quotes Come True:

Now to the right here is Stars Hollow. It’s the setting for the television series Gilmore Girls. And if we’re lucky we might even catch one of the show’s stars.

Does this seem like swimming pool weather to you, Dean? I mean, it’s practically Canadian.

Who says horror has to be dark?

“What’s a PA?” “I think they’re kinda like slaves.”

What was it like working with Richard Moll?

If the ghosts are in hell, how do they hear the chanting? I mean, what do they have, super-hearing?

Why would a ghost be afraid of salt?

We all know what Jay and Brad wanted more than anything. And that was to see Hell Hazers II The Reckoning on screen in theaters all across America.

Dude, are you serious? ‘Cause I’m serious.

There’s an afterlife, alright. But mostly it’s a pain in the ass.