Fabio, eat your heart out

Hey kids! I just wanted to stop in, see how everybody was doing, and say that this is definitely my last column for the Bulletin. Why?
Because I found a new job. One that pays more than this racket. Jeff Byrd, I’m looking at you.
Okay, just kidding, this isn’t actually my last column for the Bulletin, but I did find a new job. Unfortunately, I managed to be semi-horrible at it, so they’re probably never going to call me back.
What did I do, you ask? Good question.
Italian pottery model.
To break those words down, in case you failed to completely comprehend their meaning, I must tell you a story:
So I’m standing on campus one day (in the area known as The Pit, for you Carolina aficionados) with a couple of friends, when out of the blue, a woman approaches me and asks, “Excuse me, but have you ever thought about being a model?”
Now for any normal person, hearing a question like that — completely unprovoked, remember — brings one response and one response only to mind: No! Because you may end up being asked to assume poses that are illegal in most states.
However, because I’m not the fastest horse in the stable, my response was instead a highly articulate, sublimely intelligent, “Uh. . . .”
“I’m sorry,” this woman, who had still not introduced herself to me, said in one breath, “I’m with Vietri — we’re an Italian pottery company, and we’re doing a photo shoot in a few days and we need models and you look Italian - are you Italian - will you do it?”
“Uh. . . .”
Sensing that my hesitancy was clearly a sign of my overwhelming enthusiasm for all things Italian and clay-based, the woman said, “Great! Just let me take a picture of you and then have my boss take a picture of you, and then we’ll get your info and give you a call.” So this woman’s boss — who was five feet tall and one of the most terrifying women I have ever met in my life — took a picture of me using her iPhone, and I gave them my phone number and my e-mail address. According to one of my friends who had been in the area for a while, the pair had been attempting to recruit models all afternoon, so I thought nothing of the incident, and went to my dorm room.
Problem is, about 5:30 that afternoon, my phone rang and it was the boss who had taken my picture with her iPhone. Life is crazy. “So would you be interested in being featured in our campaign? We’ll pay you three hundred dollars.”
In a complete state of shock yet cognizant enough that in college, you never turn down three hundred dollars, I said, “Uh. . . .sure. . . .”
“Great! Well I’m going to need to take you shopping on Saturday so we can get you some clothes. I’ll pick you up at 10:30 in the morning and we’ll go to the mall. Okay? Great. Bye.”
Now, at this point I should clarify two things:
1) I am not Italian. I have somewhat dark skin, but that really has more to do with the amount of time I spent outside when I was a kid than my ethnic background. Honestly, I’m not really sure why this woman thought that I must have come from the Mediterranean.
2) I am not a beautiful man. I am by no means a repulsive individual, but I am not exactly the picture of unadulterated physical perfection. To me, the epitome of Italian Model Perfection would be Fabio, and I look like somebody whom Fabio could break with his face while riding a rollercoaster.
Nor am I cool — it is my opinion that human beings have the ability to, through the fine art of cool, make themselves attractive. However, I am not cool. To paraphrase Chuck Klosterman, if cool had a color, it would be black. I, on the other hand, would be some shade of burnt orange, which I am. On the other hand, I’m skinny, tan, don’t suffer from any severe physical deformities, and I look significantly better than terrible if you put a suit on me.
Still, I am unable to comprehend why in the wide expanse of the universe someone would actually select me to model anything, let alone pottery. Why does anybody need to model pottery, anyway? It’s not like you wear the stuff, is it? Really, doesn’t pottery pretty much sell itself?
No, silly. This is what separates me, the Italian Pottery Model (IPM), from you, the common person. Clearly, this pottery was special and needed my assistance in selling it. So I looked on Vietri’s website, and discovered that the company had never before used models, and the term Italian Pottery was a misnomer. I quickly learned that the product Vietri pushed the most was dinnerware (e.g., cups, plates, etc). Later conversations with Vietri employees revealed that the company’s plates were the only ones featured on a little show called Sex and the City, and that Oprah had prominently endorsed the company on her show. So I guess you could say that this company was kind of a big deal.
So if this pottery company is such a big deal, why would they use schmucks like me for models? Tune in, not next time (next column is going to be on something Christmas-y, because I’m in the holiday spirit), but the time after next to find out!
Hot Jam of the week: “Protect Ya Neck” by the Wu-Tang Clan. The Wu-Tang Clan is essentially the sweetest rap group ever, and if you don’t like them, then we can’t be friends. Basically this song will rock your face off. Note: Wu-Tang Clan is not suitable for children, women who are pregnant or may become pregnant, or those with back injuries.