First: I will admit that someone did guess my little secret. But that’s all I’m sayin.
Second: I have to completely brag on the husband because he’s awesome…in the eyes of National Geographic.
(Sorry, that’s like, you should be totally excited. We’re all sharing in this experience together)
(It’s a screen shot…so you’ll know which picture to look for if you’re all supportive-like and click on it. He’s in the nature category…under one of the weeks in August…it usually pops up under August Week 2, but the pictures randomly change…I even bolded the important parts and hyperlinked the picture for you. Cause I’m nice like that)
He entered a few photo contests a couple of months ago…I finally convinced him that his pictures were just as good as the previous winners and professional photographers. I mean, I think his pictures are incredible. I know, I’m biased but…that’s not the point. Last night, I decided to check out Nat Geo’s website to see when the photo contest ended, ran across the gallery of editor’s picks…started clicking through and then was all, “HONEY! YOU’RE WINNING! YOU’RE WINNING!! THEY PICKED YOU!!” I mean, technically he hasn’t won (yet)…but I mean, getting picked by the editors has to count for something, right?
And you’re all totally privileged. You get to see his little gallery…before he wins or something. Then once he’s like, Mr. Famous Photographer, you can be all, “I knew him when…he had to post his pictures on his wife’s blog.”
You know…if he becomes more famous than me…well shit. I do not have a contingency for that scenario.
All he has to do is take pictures in beautiful, serene locations…the hell? I write in a fucking box and get tossed a few saltines every few hours by Crazy One-Eyed Mervin all, “DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT RESURFACING UNTIL IT’S PERFECT.”
That’s kind of shitty, if you ask me.
I mean, not that I wouldn’t be happy for him…I’d just need equal notoriety.
I’m probably acting immature.
Maybe I’ll call today Fuck It Friday.