Intern: what I can do for you.

Many of you may have wondered what I'm doing with an intern. I admit, I've often wondered the same thing. In fact, many a Seinfeld moment has passed as Marie and I sit in my small, cramped office, discussing my take on every day life. I've done my best to indoctrinate her into my elevated way of thinking. 

Have I succeeded? 

One can only hope. 

But one thing is for sure. Thanks to me Marie is no longer the same little high school intern. Now she is a high school intern with a rockin' senior picture!

See below:

Um...not that one. I meant look at the ones below:

And of course the next one is my favorite:

NOTICE: If you want to be my intern I'm now accepting applications for the "potty training my kid" job and the "picking boogers off the wall" job. 

Intern: total sicko

Intern called texted in that she was sick today. And you know what that made me think of? These darn kids and all their texting.

Back in my day, which might I add wasn't too long ago, kids didn't text. Heck, most kids didn't even have a cell phone. That could be because they were the size of a brick and weighed close to the same, but whatev. In fact, since I started working with youngun's like Intern, my texting has increased. I used to have the 200 text plan, and now I'm going to have to bump it.

This is a grief I'd planned on laying on Intern. Now that she's not here, I have no one to complain to. My home is too quiet. And my hair is too thin. Where is Intern with her thick, lucious locks?

Not here, that's where.

Get better soon Intern, lest I spend all my money on hair extensions so I have something to brush out and take pictures of.

Intern: FIRED!

So the other day, Intern says to me, "Erin, I just texted my friend and told her I was at your house since you're my OBFF."

Say what? "Um, what is an OBFF?"

"You know," she says glancing from her most recent text to me. "It means Old Best Friend Forever, because my friends at school are like my BFFs but you're old, so you're an OBFF."

Hello? How old does she think I am? I thought back over our conversations and I realized she referred to me this way quite a few times before. Like when we first started working together and she mentioned her friend's mom was probably around my age. Do I look like I'm old enough to have a 17 year old daughter? Maybe if I got preggers when I was 12. Eww! Gross!

Anyway, I had to set that girl straight. I am not OLD! In fact, with a bit of Photoshop work, I look a lot like her teen BFFs. So there!

All I had to say in response to that was, "FIRED!"

But, apparently she doesn't listen because she's still working for me. So here's a cute shot anyway of Intern with her YBFFs.

Intern: i darn near got a tear in my eye

Today Intern suprised me.

Fifteen minutes before Intern was scheduled to show up at my house, Mark (my main squeeze) called and said his truck died. Let it be known now that I told him I had a similar problem with his ghetto old truck. I suggested that he take the key out, let the car think for a bit, and then put the key back in. He said he'd already done that and it was clear that the battery was completely dead. So I drove out to Orem to rescue the man.

As soon as I got there, I walked over to the truck, and (just for nothing but a little bit a curiousity) I turned the key so the car was completely off. I took the key out of the ignition and let the car think for a half second. Then I put it back in, and guess what...

That POS ghetto truck started up right then and there. Mark was flabbergasted...and I (muah ha ha ha) didn't at all rub it in.

So seeing as I saved the day, I decided it would be ok if Intern had to wait a moment or two for me. I took myself to the HARTS to get me a cool 32oz.

And who do you suppose I found at the Harts buying, not one but, two icy 32oz drinks?

That's right. Intern.

Finally, she's learning a thing or two from my wisdom-ish ways. I could cry right now.

Intern: lessons learned on a Tuesday

1. I heart Harts.
If you live in Pleasant Grove and you don't go to the Hart's at least three times a week to get yourself a big chill, then you're probably the type of person who'd choose a Krispy Kreme over Daylight Doughnuts, or McDonalds over TA (taco amigo). And that, my friend, is a crime. (Or at least it should be.)

There is nothing that gives me more joy on a daily basis than filling up a cold 32 oz at the Harts. Today after a double senior shoot, I took Intern down to the Harts. And, (drum roll please) I shared with her my special drink mix that puts a hop in my step and keeps me feeling alert during my vigorous editing sessions. I explained to Intern that a happy photographer is one that takes a daily trip to Harts.

2. I heart Chocolate.
When one of my favorite printing shops dropped off my prints with two chocolates, I set down my Harts drink. Did I share one with Intern? HECK-A-NO. Why? Because I love chocolate and I'm the one who edited the pictures that the printer dropped off. Thus, I'm the one who earned the chocolate. Me. Me. Me.

3. I heart Bacon.
After a couple minutes I felt bad that I didn't share my chocolate with Intern. I know, I'm such a bleeding heart. So, I offered her some of last night's leftovers instead. YUM! (It was pasta with a tomato bacon sauce. Now you're not feeling so bad for Intern, are you?)

Intern: hair-ography.

(chuckle, chuckle. I'm so clever. I just love the post title so much I want to say it again, and again, and again.)

Intern and I were editing photos today. A process that can be lengthy, and hm hm, somewhat boring. When I realized I couldn't take it any longer, I turned to Intern and became instantly mesmerized by her hair. See, the thing is, Intern has the most beautiful curly hair in the world. I wish I could snatch it off her body and glue it to my own head. But alas, I would look freaky with curls glued on top my locks of stringiness.

When my staring reached a level of Hey-weirdo-you're-so-staring-at-me, I smiled and then begged her to brush it out. If I had curly hair, I'd brush it out everyday of my life. I would love it. Like I always say, "go big or go home." (Side note: If you know my sister in WA, you would see that she has been blessed with thick luscious curls. I have also offered to brush her hair out. Unfortunately, she lacks the eye of fashion that I have and she hasn't succumb to my way of thinking.)

Intern agreed!

So I brushed. And brushed. And brushed.

And voila! Beatiful-ish-ness.

Isn't it AMAZING?!? I love it so much. So much I want to scream and run around and then brush it again. If you have curly hair and want me to fix it for you, stop by. I'll do it for free and give you a rockin' awesome headshot. (Oh, and if you're wondering why Intern has her face covered, it's only to protect her identity. You know, cause she's young and all that. It's not because she doesn't like the hair do. Nope, not at all. I think she loves it!)

Hope your day is HAIRY. muah ha ha.

luv, erin

INTERN : what to wear

Here on my ghetto Summerill Surf you'll notice a lack of consistency. Random posts about whatever comes to mind. But things are changing peeps. I recently acquired me an Intern. Frankly, I feel a bit like Kramer. It's awesome and I'm sure my intern is learning lots. Maybe not about Photography, but certainly about being ADD, obsessive compulsive, and a true lover of PG (my home town). (On a side note, some may say that love is better categorized as agoraphobia. Bah! What do they know? They probably don't even fill their drinks at Harts.)

After meeting with Intern a couple times, I decided she's a true inspiration. So this weekly Tuesday spot is dedicated to her and all things Internish. Enjoy.

Have you ever had a deep love for a particular clothing item? Say sweats, or a comfy shirt. I have, and I think that love is something to be embraced. Even celebrated. Young kids these days don't seem to get that. Take for instance Intern.

Lesson 1: What to Wear

On Wednesday Intern meets with me for the first time and I explain to her photography work flow. She seems interested and even takes notes. I feel brilliant, and particularly snazzy because I got dressed, blew out my hair, and wore a shirt that I bought 2 months ago. Ever since purchasing it, I've had a love affair with this shirt. It's comfy, nice, and striped. So maybe I wear it. A lot.

On Friday Intern comes by my house to attend her first shoot. We sit in my office and prep the camera bag. Intern seems particularly interested.

"Um," Intern says. "Did you know that you wore that exact same outfit on Wednesday? Pants and shirt."

I look at Intern. "Yep."

Intern's face screws up into a mask of confusion. So I explain. When you wear the same outfit again and again, it fits like a glove. You don't have to do laundry very often. And people will recognize you for your style. It's the best.