In honor of ironyisalifestyle's fourth birthday, here's a little throwback to the incident that started it all.
Monday: “Hi Stacie, It’s Ron from Ford. Just letting you know that you have been put on hold this Thursday for the cover of Scientific American Mind. I will call you to confirm the booking.”
Tuesday: “You’re confirmed for Thursday. I’ll email you the call sheet.”
Thursday: “So we think we’re going to have your hair flowing out behind you and, like, pictures of your friends sort of bouncing out along your hair. We’ll just shoot a few different angles. Shouldn’t take too long.”
3 months later
"Hey Stacie, it’s Ron. Your Scientific American Mind issue’s out - go pick one up! It looks great. Commercial casting loves to see this kind of thing."
This kind of thing.
What do you mean by this kind of thing, Ron?
Oh. Right. This is what he meant:
I immediately emailed my parents to alert them of my plan to die slowly in a corner.
My dad responded quickly, assuring me that I was, “still one of the pretty people”.
My mother waited a day. Why?
"I was laughing so hard, your dad said I better get it together before I talked to you."