So I get an email from a local magazine a few weeks ago. Apparently they’re doing an article called, “Atlanta’s 50 most beautiful people,” or something horrific like that. And, they wanted me to “submit” for it.
Ok sure it’s flattering that someone thinks I might be an appropriate candidate for this probing piece of investigative journalism, but seriously?
They wanted pictures or course (i sent them the one above) but also, they wanted answers! Answers to some of the burning questions people might have for these 50 biological outliers. Questions like: “Are you high, medium, or low maintenance?” And, “What beauty product do you swear by?” To the latter I wrote: “Bulleit bourbon, it makes everyone look beautiful” That’s what I actually wrote. I only stress that point because after I submitted my questionnaire, I got an email saying I’d “made it to the next round!” woohoo! Really? And wait a minute, there are rounds?
The next “round” was a group interview with one of the magazine’s editors. After navigating Buckhead traffic and the corporate maze above which the high priestesses of fashion hold sway over the unfortunate masses of average beauty, I found myself in a small conference room with another candidate for enshrinement and a magazine editor freshly transplanted from The Emerald City itself, LA.
The gentleman sat to my left, the editor to my right. The guy was in his forties, well groomed, and in shape. Turns out he is a cop and a professional photographer. His wife was once Miss Georgia. He also volunteers at nursing homes once a week, and even reads the magazine religiously. Here’s how some some of my interview went.
“Why do you think you’re one of the 50 most beautiful people in Atlanta?”
“I don’t think that I am. You guys emailed me.”
“Why should we pick you for this article?”
“You should probably pick that guy, he’s perfect, I just play guitar.”
I have not heard back from them. Let’s go get some bourbon.