What the fuck kind of bullets do you use against existential dread: Las Vegas, day six

So this is my last full day in Vegas, and it's pretty much the only day that was supposed to matter. Today was the Kayla Douglas Shoot Out, co-helmed by Lindsay Adler, my photography idol (sorry, Diane Arbus, but you're a little too dead for me to meet). I had a shoot in the morning through WPPI, so I made my way to the Rio. Now, I had already registered a couple days before, but I was meh about including that in my earlier blogs, so I'll back load it here. 

Proof I've attended. 

Twice proof.

I have been wanting to go to WPPI for quite some time. I enjoyed the hands on aspects of Shutterfest (though I fucking HATE Sal Cincotta, he is a primo fucking asshole with no compassion. I don't care how talented a photographer he is, he is a terrible person in my approximation. I haven't attended in years because I do not want to support that shit heel), and I really loved the content-a-palooza that ClickCon was (and it's part of why I have such a good reputation with models in different places!). WPPI is supposed to be the best of the bunch, so I've been champing at the bit to attend for ages. 

I am disillusioned. Never again, WPPI. Never again. 

I bought a photo walk for boudoir (means hands on shooting time, more content for me) being run by a pretty well known, well respected photographer, Marco Ibanez. While I was waiting in the area with the other attendees, he came up and asked me and a couple of other women if we were there for his photo walk, we said yes, he nodded at us and said ok. And then shook the hand of every single fucking man that walked up to our group for the photo walk. Ignored the women, got to know each guy. I was pissed and disgusted, and complaining to every single person I talk to on a regular basis about it. 

The shoot was taking place in one of the penthouses at The Rio, and I noticed there was only one model in what looked like lingerie, and I was a little worried that the other models were running late. This was going to be a class of 20, after all, one model would be over run!

We made our way to the penthouse, which was bigger than my house (my house is 3K sq ft) and VERY opulent. 

I only got a picture of the foyer, but uh...it should give some scope. 

I was dismayed once we arrived to learn that it was truly just the one model. One model for 20 people. I messaged Derek, outraged for the model and aggravated at wasting the money, that I was going to bail on the chance for more content because I didn't want to be fighting for a shot at one model with 19 other fucking people. There should have been at least three other models, if not four other models. One model per group of 4 seems very, very reasonable, and this way people could rotate. It was exactly what I was expecting, exactly what other photography conferences have offered, and exactly what makes sense. Derek said he understood why I was bailing, so I bounced without feeling a shred of guilt about it. I was totally put off by the excursion. 

I went back to International Market and had a much better time. 

I wanted to buy one of each language and location for Rhyann, they LOVE Nutella. I did not, as there were far too fucking many and I would have spent literally hundreds of dollars trying to make that happen.

I was very intrigued by this pandan egg custard spread, and I need to figure out how to make it. We love pandan in our house. 

So when anybody in the house has a cold, I make either chicken soup from scratch, or pastina. But I have to make it without the pastina. I've taken to making it with Ditalini, because it's the easiest noodle to get, but I wanted to have a big ass crop of pastina to bring home and I thought international market might carry it. They didn't, but they carried two versions that were close. Pastina with holes. I bought the greek kind, and I bought an Italian kind. 

I bought Derek the yellow crock of fancy, expensive mustard. It's his new favorite mustard. 

The only shelf that had sugar free was the bottom one, but still, what a showing, Torani!

Now I've got a glut of this shit. Great. People better catch some fucking colds in this bitch.

Obviously.

All meat. As far as the eye can see. Frozen seafood, fresh seafood. Frozen mammal, fresh mammal. A staggering amount of available meats.

And cheeses. 

And baby clam meat.

There are some aspects of Vegas that I really and truly miss, and International Marketplace is one of them. I imagine this would be half of me and Derek's weekly shopping if we lived there. 

I got a bit wrapped up in buying things and forgot to take pictures of the rest of the store. I mean, I did take some photos of some novelties that made me laugh. Novelties to me, of course, not novelties to the people who buy them because they're common and expected. But I won't post those here.

I went back to the VRBO, rested a bit, and then got back in the car and headed off to the shoot out. 

Honestly, this was probably the very best photo shoot out I've ever attended. Each set looked fuckin' money. I paid a good bit of money for the ticket, but it was money well spent. Nothing looked cheap, everything looked lovingly created and well executed. Sadly, I needed none percent of the sets there. What was promised as five different boudoir locations was not that at ALL. They were pin up, mostly, which is not at all my style, and one of them was a decent enough concept, but I don't really do concept boudoir, and it isn't really marketable to my client demographic. I took some photos of the models and the sets, because they WERE cool looking, but I haven't even touched them, and I'm not likely to edit them. They're just not my thing. 

So. It was exactly worth the money, and worth the drive, to attend this event, but sadly I will get none use out of it. I had the chance to meet my photography idol and I passed on it. I saw another photographer that I stone cold fucking HATE, and they were wearing the fucking douchiest outfit and looked like such a fucking dork, and I talked to Derek about it for about ten minutes. I saw the cutest little femme there who had such a great chest piece, I talked to Bri about it for ten minutes. I made friends with one of the models there over misandry. All in all, I was overwhelmed but satisfid with attending, even WITH not being able to utilize the photos I took. I made the conscious choice not to meet my idol becase...I don't know, in the moment I was just kind of like, "...ok, and? She's just another photographer like me, just with a massive budget." And I don't ever want to meet anybody else. And she's just like everybody else. 

So I left. I put in another order at Jinya, this time for pick up, they fucked up my order because "no noodles" is apparently confusing to a ramen restaurant...went back to my place, ate, packed up, and went to bed. I was leaving Vegas the next morning, and honestly I feel I am unlikely to ever return. 

The city is no longer my city.