Pimples and Twitter ⁶

As of Tuesday night, I had a whopping 375 followers on Twitter.

While I realize my following is comparatively microscopic, I was pleased to see the number steadily growing–just a few months ago, I had fewer than 100 followers. This slow but consistent progress made me proud.

And then I got greedy.

I was soooo close to the big 400. Perhaps I could give the internet a little nudge that would push me over the edge? I only needed 25 new followers, after all.

And so, my tweet of desperation was born:

What happened next was unexpected, yet not unwelcome.

Basically, my good friend (and UFC champion) Benson “Smooth” Henderson would retweeted my request to all 72,459 of his followers. Within about ten minutes, I had 96 new Twitter minions, bringing my grand total up to 471.

Almost instantly, the requests for the photo came pouring in.

This created somewhat of a problem.

I never actually specified who the embarrassing photo would feature. In fact, the image I had planned on using was a picture of Scott on New Year’s Eve. While I don’t think it’s quite appropriate to share on a family blog such as this one, I will say that it involved a Speedo, top hat, bow tie, and strategically placed jacuzzi jet.

Yeah.

While Scott and I find the snapshot totally hilarious, something told me 96 male UFC fans were the wrong demographic to unleash such a flamboyant display of spandex swimwear on.

Being as I didn’t want to upset nearly 100 dudes that could quite literally bench press my body with a only their left arm, I frantically began searching for a new photo.

Ultimately, I snagged this image from my blog about the time my forehead attacked me right before a celebrity wedding.

I’d say this qualifies as “embarrassing”, right?

While I’m sure none of my new MMA friends were jumping for joy at the sight of my skin crisis, I only lost two followers, and I don’t think anyone was offended by the photo.

Well, except for one person.

I really wanted to direct message him the Speedo photo of Scott to prove that I do in fact have a man, thank you very much. Sure, he’s a man who wears black tie accessories into a hot tub, but he still totally counts. I would then politely explain that perhaps taking pictures of my pimples and posting them on the Twitter is my hobby.

Yet somehow, I was able to practice restraint. But only because engaging in a Twitter war with a complete stranger over an eyebrow pimple photo is never classy.

And truly, when you’re desperately using photos of your acne to lure in new Twitter followers, it’s all about staying classy.

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The Masterpiece ⁵

Last week, I received a text message from our friend Nam asking me what my dream weapon would be.

Without even having to think, I instantly responded with “Definitely a pink gun.”

(I saw one on My Big Redneck Wedding two years ago, and have desperately wanted one of my own ever since.)

A day later, Nam informed me that he had something for Scott and I when we arrived in Seattle. His exact words were “You’re going to poop your pants when you see it.”

Immediately, I asked him if he meant we would poop our pants in a good way, or in a bad, explosive way.

His response? “Depends on what you’ve been eating.”

Being that I have all the patience of a four year old child on Christmas Eve, I pestered him for details about his impending surprise. When he told me he had found the pink shotgun that Lady Gaga had used to kill animals for her meat dress, I was almost positive he was being facetious.

Yet I held on to the hope that maybe, just maybe, he had been able to win the meat dress weapon on some sort of bizarre eBay auction.

As it turns out, the surprise Nam had in store for us was a million times better than a stupid pink meat dress gun.

Remember this photo from the creepiest Pinterest endeavor in the history of creepy Pinterest endeavors?

Let’s just say the above photo doesn’t even hold a candle to the new painting it inspired.

Behold, the latest Nam Huynh original.

We totally pooped our pants. In a good way.

Scott’s reaction? ”This piece of artwork has more symbolism than a Salvador Dali painting.”

After getting over the initial shock of realizing Scott actually knows who Salvador Dali is, I saw he was totally right. If symbolism were like pimples, this painting would need a serious dose of Accutane.

You know what I mean.

Here are my 4 favorite things about Nam’s masterpiece.

1. There’s a story line.

If you look closely, you’ll see that Scott and I entered this prehistoric war zone via a boat with pink sails. Obviously, Nam realized I wouldn’t be caught dead in a sailboat that didn’t have pink sails. He’s thoughtful like that.

After bushwhacking through the forest with some help from Scott’s Zelda sword, traversing the ominous river via drawbridge and killing a giant green dinosaur simply because we thought he looked “smarmy”, we feasted on an innocent bystander, leaving only their skeleton in tact before posing for our victory portrait.

Basically, it’s a pretty accurate account of a typical day in the Taylor household.

2. Attention to detail.

I love that Nam took the time to include Jolie in the portrait, even remembering to include her crooked right ear.

I also love that he put a wedding ring on Scott’s finger. Scott hasn’t worn his wedding ring in over four years, and I think this is Nam’s subtle way of telling him that’s pretty much the worst idea in the world. Thanks, Nam.

And then there’s my beloved pink handgun. My beloved pink handgun which has the date on it and is held with a freshly manicured hand. This is what Picasso would have referred to as “baller status.”

3. It features a lava monster about to commit suicide via jumping into a giant volcano.

Probably because he’s terrified of my pink gun. Or possibly my rabid chihuahua.

4. It’s valuable.

Probably the most valuable thing we own. In fact, I think we’re going to have to create a will so that if anything happens to us, this priceless work of art doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. While we haven’t made it official yet, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure we’re going to entrust it to my brother Janss. You know, so he can sell it for an obscene amount of money, and use the profits to quit his job at Safeway.

You’re welcome, Janss.

*****

While Scott, Jolie and myself are completely enamored with Nam’s painting, there was one problem: How were going to get it back to Minnesota?

A suitcase was out of the question — it was too large to pack, and we didn’t want to risk squashing it.

Yet carrying on the plane also provided countless opportunities for disaster. It clearly wouldn’t fit in the overhead compartment or beneath the seat in front of us, and something told me the flight attendants wouldn’t give the painting its own seat. Even if they did, I’m afraid someone would steal the canvas for themselves while we were napping.

It’s nearly impossible to protect priceless artwork when you’re unconscious and drooling on a stranger’s shoulder at 15,000 feet.

Ultimately, we opted to have the portrait professionally packaged and ship to our home in ‘Sota. It should be arriving later this week, and I can’t wait to hang it across from “The Duke”, our sassy gay deer friend.

“Ooh…love the new painting! Thanks, girl.”

Please don’t take offense, Nam. He calls everyone “girl”.

In the meantime, I’m trying to figure out a way to thank Nam for such a wonderful gift. Something Scott and I can present him, that will in turn make him poop his pants.

(In a good way.)

In keeping with the artistic theme, I was thinking we could make him one of these DIY Love is Art paintings I blogged about here? You know, the ones that allow you and your loved one to  ”safely make a tangible piece of abstract expressionistic art while being intimate with each other”.

You’re right.

Worst. Idea. Ever.

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