Prompt 3: Write a deliciously awful theme using ingredients from pages 2 through 7 of this week’s lecture handout.
When I first got into the industry, my agent said that as a model, I’d be paid handsomely. I did not want to seem daftish and airheaded, since clearly I was really good at being pretty, and I did not need to say that again, so I smartly said, “I’d prefer if I were paid prettily.” He said, “I always liked quick-witted, well-read, eggheaded, and pointedly sharp people.”
At my first shoot, I laid on the set pulchritudinously, one might even say enticingly, like a scintillating fish whose scales shone with a brilliance greater than Einstein’s. That day, I found myself naked as the day I was born, meaning I wore an eye hurting-ly, cornea burning-ly, retina demolishing-ly sparkling Anne Demeulemeester two piece, for as soon I was born my parents recognized my doubtlessly promising potential to become a very famous beautiful person, and immediately put me in a bedazzled silver power suit.
I draw your attention to the question as to whether it is a fact that I was undeservedly awarded my subsequent modeling jobs owing to the fact that my parents were New York socialites once photographed by the photographically-talented photographer Robert Mapplethorpe, which is a strange concern given that there is no truth to these claims, hinging on the truth of the matter, which is that I have never used my parents for anything other than parental and familiar purposes, like breast milk and advice on how to do my taxes. I say this concisely as I have fully lived an entire life doggedly and justly justifying my place in society, and thusly, wish to speak no more on the matter. Rather, I will gracefully crawl out from the shadowy penumbra of my parents, shining as brightly as I did from the day I was born.
I love it
photographed by the photographically-talented photographer Robert Mapplethorpe