[Leica] You can try and try but, sadly, never be as cool as me ....

[Kyle Cassidy <KCassidy@asc.upenn.edu>]

I hate to say it, but it's true ... They don't make 'em cooler than I. 

I now have a coffin in my living room....

So ... Last Friday ... I call Brainclaw about their photos -- they want
shots of them working in the studio -- swank. I meet them at the studio,
bring a camera and a strobe and a bunch of useless junk. I photograph
Brainclaw in the studio for a couple of hours.

http://www.asc.upenn.edu/usr/cassidy/temp/brainclaw1.jpg

They're great people. We find that we like all the same movies. After
photos, they cook me dinner. We play with toy soldiers. Have I seen _Razor
Blade Smile_? I have not. Have they seen _Donnie Darko_? They haven't. We
must have movie night. Brainclaw is in the midst of re-doing their kitchen.
I mention that Carfax Abbey put the floor in my kitchen. They're overjoyed.
Have they seen the Lord of the Rings? Do I want to get my face knocked in?
Of course, they saw it three times on opening day.

The coffin smells like a rump roast that's been out in the sun. There seem
to be shovel marks on the top of it. I point them out. "Use coasters,"
Brainclaw tells me. "Where did you get this?" I ask. "It'll make a great
coffee table won't it?" They answer. Brainclaw squirts some windex inside it
to mask the odor. I knock as much of the dirt as I can from it with a towel.

I root around the inside of the casket. "Whose shoe is this?" Nobody knows.
I throw the shoe in the trash. It was a wingtip anyway.

We load the coffin into the slackmobile. (An $800 value from
www.casketfurniture.com
(http://www.casketfurniture.com/caskets_coffins.php)) I drive it home
whistling the whole way. For a while I think that something's thumping in
the coffin. But it's just the box sliding around. At midnight I call linda,
she's not home. I drag the coffin out of the slackmobile and start yanking
it up the steps of our house one at a time. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. My
neighbors come out and stand on their porches. 
	"Isn't that the freak who was out in the street with the girl with
the two foot blue mohawk last week?"
	(http://www.asc.upenn.edu/usr/cassidy/temp/gb13.jpg) 
	"Yeah that's him. What the hell is he dragging up the steps?" 
	"Looks like a coffin." 
	"Shiet yes. It does. Go figure."
	"There goes the neighborhood."

So I drag the coffin into the house.

http://www.asc.upenn.edu/usr/cassidy/temp/coffin1.jpg

Quick check to make sure I fit in it, (It's comfy, but I can't roll over).
When I close the lid, thunderbelly immediately jumps on top of it and lays
down. I feel something squirming around by my feet. WTF? Bump one cat off
the top to find the other one curled up by my feet. Go figure. I empty out
the downstairs linen closet into it. Afghans, quilts, sheets. Lovely. 

Boys, want to make your wives happy? Empty out a closet for them, women love
nothing like they love a place to put more shoes.

Kc
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