My Chair

I had always assumed that my chair led a fairly uneventful life. Perhaps the highlight of his days consisted of being sat on or used a scratching post (apparently a common chair activity).
 
Saturday morning I went to schedule a photo shoot with my chair. Apparently the one time I really need him he's out running errands.
I guess I can't blame him for having fiscal responsibility. We rescheduled for this morning around 9am. Noon eventually rolls around and I'm like "Where is this guy?" After making a few calls and poking around, I find him crashed in my own bed!
Well I expect a little attitude from all models but this guy's starting to push my buttons. While waiting for him to freshen up I come up with the great idea of shooting him and a dining room chair playing together at the park. Maybe they could toss around the old football. Yeah, a real buddy piece.
 
I brought the idea to my chair.
That's when things turned ugly. Apparently Mr. Morning Person isn't at all interested in sharing the spotlight. The dining room chair was ok but swore never to talk to my chair again.
 
Whatever, they usually keep to themselves anyway.
My chair insisted on grabbing a mochachino even though I pleaded that we were losing daylight. The guy at Caribou was nice enough not to spit in it even after my chair called him a "corporate slut" and demanded "something better than the usual toilet-water".
I know for a fact that this guys never been to church but he demands we stop to "check out the pews". I'm sure my chair doesn't have religion - he's just screwing with me.

On the way to the photo shoot we saw one of his "hommies" hanging on the porch on the bad side of town. There was some boisterous yelling and what I think were gang signs thrown out. It's hard to tell with chairs but that guy on the stoop looks like a bad influence.
We finally arrived on location and I got this nice shot just before my chair started complaining. There was a whole slew of complaints; "I'm hungry", "This sun is murder on my fabric", "This sculpture is garbage", "I'm allergic to tulips", "Cobblestone is just concrete for idiots". We packed up for the day. I couldn't take it and he was starting to offend complete strangers.
 
I was forced to stop at the liquor store on the way home and of course "you know who" forgot both his ID and money.
Turns out Mr. Tough Guy can't handle the drinky-drink. After having a one sided argument with the cats for almost half an hour, he passed out on the couch holding a lit cigarette. Needless to say my chair can't handle the spotlight and you probably won't see much of him again...unless you read the police reports.
 
(repost from a little over a year ago on my previous blog)