I'll photograph your party. I'll photograph your Greek life or club. I will not photograph your wedding.
Funerals: maybe, but only if I didn't know them. Grief's not really my genre.
Fast food joints get a special rate — I'll shoot for a month of free food instead of cash. Line up 30 of these and I never have to cook again.
Photograph you skydiving, on the way down, ok. Bungee jumping. Cliff diving. A shark cage. Storm chasing, from a safe distance, I have limits. Running with the bulls, though I'm bringing my own exit strategy. A cold plunge. A demolition derby. Stage diving. A mosh pit. Getting a tattoo, the whole process, needle and all. Getting your wisdom teeth out, specifically for the loopy anesthesia interview after. A root canal. Jury duty, if you're somehow excited about it. Getting audited. A DMV visit, all four hours of it. Getting your car towed, live, as it happens. A second demolition derby, apparently one wasn't enough. A silent retreat, which is extreme specifically because I'm not allowed to talk either. A hot dog eating contest. A ghost pepper, just the one, just to see your face. A haunted house, the kind with actors that touch you. A dunk tank. Zip-lining, even though it's basically a chairlift. Your Black Friday doorbuster run. A hackathon, hour 22, when everyone's lost their mind a little.
You just bought a Chevrolet Corsica, the unofficial car of every rental lot in 1994. You just bought an Astro van. A Pontiac Aztek. A Buick LeSabre with the fabric roof peeling off. A minivan with a hundred and ninety thousand miles on it and a check engine light you've named. A Dodge Caravan you found on Facebook Marketplace for four hundred dollars, cash only, meet in a Walmart parking lot. None of these were your first choice and we both know it, and I will document that.
You want me to photograph you eating an entire jug of mayo, ok. A whole jar of pickles, brine included. The gallon milk challenge. A raw onion like it's an apple. A stick of butter, room temperature, no plate. Licking a 9-volt battery, against my advice. The cinnamon challenge, badly. A spoonful of ghost pepper extract like it's medicine. A whole rotisserie chicken, bare hands, one sitting, no fork. Drinking pickle juice straight from the jar like a shot. A live-action recreation of whatever's currently going around TikTok that I will pretend I've never heard of while filming it anyway.
Donating plasma. A polar bear plunge. Free solo climbing, from a very safe distance, obviously. Getting your braces tightened. Writing a eulogy you're nervous about. Moving apartments, the whole miserable day, all of it. A first date that's clearly going badly. Assembling IKEA furniture mid-argument with the instructions. Waiting in line for a new phone. Getting your blood drawn. Day three of a juice cleanse. A cavity filled, no laughing gas. A CrossFit hero WOD. An ice bath, and I will document the exact moment you regret it. Getting talked into a timeshare presentation, live, in real time. Haggling at your own garage sale. Jury selection, the waiting room part. Disputing a parking ticket at city hall. A fantasy football draft you're taking way too seriously. A suspiciously cheap Groupon massage. Getting a tattoo removed, which is somehow worse than getting one.