I was on a shoot in New Jersey last week and since I was already in the state in which the 3 loves of my lives (Simone, don't worry, you're still on the list as well) reside, I figured I would stop by their suburban paradise and get some Auntie Nani time before they went to their ever exclusive swim club. What I was met with was 3 pint sized D-Bags thirsty for blood. Don't get me wrong, my nephews are the best things ever and I would lay down my life for them, butt man these kids are crazy. I wasn't even out of the rental car door before I was berated with questions as to why I was there in acerbic tones and actual, physical violence. Although I consider myself an aunt to many, as many women of my age, stature, and reproductive status do, the Geller boys clearly have a special place, as they are my only sister's spawn.
Although these beastly characters think that they are big bad men men, and I am just a mere, inferior female, that did not stop them from all pouncing on me at once, seeing who could reach the highest heights of all that my 5 feet 7 inches had to offer. They are lucky that the Irish stock is thick in my veins and I am pretty burly.
After 20 minutes with Ryan, James, and Griffin and I was ready to retreat back to the mellow and mild metropolis in which I reside, where the crack heads mind their business and the drug dealers only shout things like, "Yo, Bri Bri, you're the baddest shorty on Audubon" (and yes, that is a direct quote!). Leaving bruised, beaten and battered I was only left with the injuries incurred and a dozen photos of my exceedingly handome sobrinos. I feel as though these photos, of which there are a select few here, may have captured just what that Friday afternoon was: summertime, childhood, and most of all, bro-dome.
You tell me what you think...
ps. how much is the photo above a beastie boys album cover!
despite being a cynic, the occasional outpouring of love penetrates the steel compartment i call my heart. this past weekend i was honored with the responsiblity of shooting a union of wedded bliss in fort tryon park. southerners, jews, and the heights...what more could you ask for?