Dir: Mr. Pete
I am by no means a rich man. This Skinema book that’s just come out has put some money in my pocket, but not much—barely enough to repave my driveway. Yet I like to pretend that I’m wealthy. In January, I completed a new bathroom in my basement with a two-person shower, a Japanese-style toilet that shoots water up my ass then hot-air-dries me, and, most importantly, a three-person jacuzzi tub. The tub is my favorite. It’s the only place of pure relaxation for me and the wife during the workweek. My six-year-old nephew seems to appreciate it too. The other day he said, “Man, this bathroom is great. It’s like yous guys are rich… BUT YOU’RE NOT!” No, we’re not, Josh. Thank you for reminding us.
But we are a helluva good time. Our friend Brandi (the brunette in the photo above) came over and we all got loaded in the jacuzzi a few months back. Sadly, no lesbian action broke out, nor did anyone get naked, but we had a swell time nevertheless.
I sent my photographer buddy Matt Sharkey some of the photos from the tub to make him jealous. Matt is one of those nudie photographers who is always shooting girls in various states of undress, so I don’t know what I was thinking by sending him photos of fully clothed people in a tub. I suppose I was just happy to be around two women in bikinis and had to show someone who would appreciate it. Instead Matt took it as some sort of challenge and a week later he emails me photos of him, his wife Dalila (the blond in the photo), and Brandi in their EIGHT-person hot tub, completely naked and performing some very sensual acts.
I was pissed. I felt deflated. My jacuzzi fantasies had sprung a leak. I was riding a high and he had to trump me. So I emailed him, his wife, and Brandi, and told them to fuck off. That they were jerks. And I hated them. “Lose my email, my phone number, and any other means of modern communication you might have for me. This is the end for us. Sayonara, suckers. You have broken my heart for the last time.”
Generally people do not take me seriously—that’s the way I prefer it. Life is too short not to enjoy it for the joke of a roller-coaster ride that it is. So you can imagine my surprise when I received a flurry of emails from Matt and the girls apologizing for making me sad. Rather than letting them know I was over it, I kept up the charade in hopes that maybe I could guilt one of the girls into my bed, with my wife. Soon after, my birthday rolled around with very little fanfare aside from a kiss on the cheek from my lady and a card from my mum and a strange package from FedEx. I didn’t even know FedEx knew my birthday. They didn’t. But Matt and the girls did and their gift (above) is framed over my mantle. It’s not quite the offer of lesbian sex, but nothing ever is. Not from FedEx.
For more Chris go to Chrisnieratko.com or Njskateshop.com.