2 Dollar Productions

I know that everyone has their own personal list of things or acts that they absolutely will not, cannot or shall not do under any circumstances.

My own personal list includes things like never owning a mini-van or Taurus, never being seen in public with a little Paris Hilton-like terrier, never referring to myself in the third person, refusing to watch home makeover shows, etc.

I also thought wearing a Speedo fit somewhere on this list, but after my photo shoot on Sunday, I realize now that my list must be revised.

First off, I don't own a Speedo, and I think this matters when you consider the circumstances that dictated my wearing one - But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I got to the shoot on a brisk Sunday morning to find the photographer (gay of course, not that there's anything wrong with that), and his assistant (also gay, not that there's anything wrong with that) unloading the camera equipment out of their Ford Explorer.

He had chosen a park near Oak Lawn in Dallas to shoot me. It came furnished with some nice graffiti-laden concrete walls, a small cold creek running through it, plenty of green grass and as a bonus some lucky kid was kicking a soccer ball against the wall while this all occurred.

After mussing my hair with styling product, I put on jeans and a white "wife-beater." I also got to wear my old beat-to-hell Red Wing boots, which reminded me of college and beer and managed to put me a little bit at ease.

Unfortunately, that was the last time I wore a shirt for the next two hours and it was definitely chilly while roaming the park in early March when you're only wearing your white Jockey boxers for warmth. Selah.

Anyway, I quickly progressed (or regressed) from my jeans/beater ensemble to workout shorts sans shirt before moving into my white cotton Jockey boxers. It was at this point that the oil and lip balm appeared out of the assistant's bag, and he wielded them like a crazed transvestite hopped up on speed.

In no time at all I was greased like a pig with lips that shined like new state quarters.

After the boxers were finished, the flesh-colored Speedo was next and I faced the moment of truth. I was bumping up against my own idealogy, but I thought of Tom Cruise in "Risky Business" and remembered how he said sometimes "you have to say what the fuck and make your move."

So I did.

In this case, however, that move was up against a concrete wall with my leg cocked at such an angle that it will appear to all the world that I was naked when he shot me from the side. The photographer said something about "being sexy" and loving "the lines in my legs," but I didn't hear much as I kindly let my mind wander.

When the shoot was over, I felt strangely good as I drove back to my apartment with top down and Steve Earle playing loudly. Sometimes it's good to break your own rules as long as it doesn't hurt anyone else or involve animals.

Rules were of course made to broken, but we'll see if that cliche holds firm in a few short weeks when the proofs come back from the shoot.

In the meantime, the Bryan is going to enjoy chucking his diet out the window, tossing pack a few pints and maybe getting some work done on our next screenplay.

But I'm not buying a Speedo.

-BDS