November 24, 2015


Hi you guys. Welcome to the blog where I talk about my past.

OK, I’ve got to tell my one Thanksgiving day story. I told you before, but I’ve got to tell you again. If you’ve already heard it, and your rolling your eyes and tapping your foot, then skip it.

I was living in Australia. I had a huge dinner party with some friends. We had a few bottles of some wine and we were having a good time. Then we started talking about Thanksgiving and what it meant. My friends were Australian and had never heard of it, so I promised them a big Thanksgiving day party. I forgot about it, and then next morning, my wife at the time reminded me of the promise I had made. Now, let me tell you, try finding a turkey a few days before Thanksgiving in Australia. Not easy. I must have tried every butcher shop in Sydney. No turkeys to be found. So I called up the US Consulate, and asked them how they got their turkeys. The guy that talked to me was cool. He said they pre-ordered them through a butcher he knew. The guy at the US Embassy said they over ordered so I could pick one up. I raced down to the butcher and explained the situation. They said I could buy the turkey the US Embassy didn’t need. Well, after I paid about $200 for the turkey I heard a big cart coming out of the icebox. I looked over and I saw the biggest bird I’ve ever seen on a cart. I said, “That’s not a turkey! That’s got to be an Emu or something. That’s a huge bird.” The butcher promised me it was a turkey. Well, after finally getting it into my car, I got it up to my apartment. It was so heavy. I finally got it into the kitchen. Looked at the bird, looked at my stove, looked at the bird, looked at my stove again and I thought, “No way! I’m not gonna get that bird in there!” I finally took out all the racks and all the siding, put a brick down and a rack, put the bird in on a big tray and tried to shut the door. It wouldn’t shut. So I used a bungee cord to hold the door halfway open and then covered the entire opening with tin foil. I started cooking the bird. Well, my friends finally came over at around 6 pm. Mind you, I started cooking at like 2 pm. We had a few bottles of wine (I’m being conservative when I say a few). The bird finally got done at 4 am in the morning. We were ripped. I mean, even the chair would have tasted good at this stage. We ate the whole thing. It was good. Like my friend here says, “Low and slow.” After cleaning up at about 6 am, I passed out and was awoken by a noise by the trash. There were a bunch of tree kangaroos fighting over my turkey carcas. It sounded like a full on riot. The tree kangaroos ran off into the woods with my turkey. That’s my Thanksgiving Story. My friend here says I also introduced the tree kangaroos to Thanksgiving. So have a good Thanksgiving.

Love, B. Nice

P.S. Here my blog where I blog about the present.

November 21, 2015


Hi you guys. Welcome to the blog where I talk about my past. I would often think about the past when I was in the hospital in a bad way.

I’m gonna call this blog: ABC. I’ll explain why. I was looking at a previous blog. I was talking about working for a photographer who wasn’t nice to me. You see, I’ve come to realize that when you’re under a lot of stress you take it out on your assistants a lot. I mean it’s kind of like having a pot of boiling water with a cover. Something’s gotta give, and unfortunately, your assistant is right in the path. It’s not that you did anything wrong. Well, maybe I did some things wrong, but you’re the first person in the line of fire. Things like dropping a Nikor lens out of a helicopter, leaving the film on the beach, and backing a van into the bay don’t help. I wasn’t such a great assistant. OK, that was A, for Assistant.

B is gonna be standing for Bar. You see, I was a bartender in college. It was a great way to work your way through college. Good tips. I always got good tips because I was a little heavy handed on the drinks. Oh man, one time these secretaries came in for happy hour. I made them a drink: 1 oz of Gin. 1 oz of Vodka. 1 oz of Triplesec. 1 oz of Silver Tequila. Poured it over the rocks and added a splash of coca cola, a splash of sweet and sour mix and the piece de resistance was a floater of Biccardi rum 150 proof. It was a very flammable mixture. OK, so imagine this, I’m trying to get out of the bar to take a bathroom break, and there was a little door to leave the bar. Well, there was a secretary that had had two of my famous drinks. She was standing right in front of the door. She had her dress hiked up to her hips and her legs spread, and she said, “Come on through Baby!” I don’t think I’ve ever held a pee so long in my life. I didn’t dare exit the bar. It’s pretty funny being sober and watching everyone around you get absolutely ripped. If there was a group of people, I would ask who the designated driver was, and give them a free drink every other drink. A helluva way to work your way through school. OK, that was B for Bar.

Oh yeah, I forgot to add something I wanted to tell you. There was a new waitress who was kind of uncomfortable in the dress she had to wear at the bar. It was a Mexican themed bar and she had a high slit up her leg for the dress and a low cut top. Very Mexican, right? There should have been a brass stripper pole  involved. Anyway, she had a tray of margueritas, strawberry margueritas, and she couldn’t get throughout the crowd because it was very crowded, so she held the tray above her head. Well, I was watching her and she was heading right for a ceiling fan. I kept trying to yell to her to watch out, but the music was too loud. And then it happened. She hit the ceiling fan and strawberry marguerites and broken glass went everywhere. It was rather amusing actually.

I’ll go back to C. I’m kind of gonna mix this blog about the past with the present. Way in the past, when I was running, you had to have a lot of courage because those races were tough. Anyway, when you have a traumatic brain injury, you have to have a lot of courage. It’s gonna test your limits. That’s for sure. And the other C word is Can’t cause you can’t do this alone. You’re gonna need family and friends to help you through this. That, or get a dog.

That’s about it for this week. Love and miss you all. Here’s my link to the blog where I talk about the present. 

Love, B. Nice

November 10, 2015


Hi everybody. Welcome to my blog where I talk about the past. I would often think about my past to get through the days.

Oh man, this one time, I was doing a portrait for my dog book, Rescue Tails. I called up a celebrity and asked him if I could do a portrait of him for my book. The celebrity said, “Sure, come on over.” Well, I got there in the afternoon to do the portrait of him and his dog. He was sitting there alone. I said, “Where is your dog?” He said, “I don’t have a dog. I thought you were bringing a dog.” I said, “I don’t have a dog.” We sounded like a couple of stoners. The celebrity said, “Eh, let’s just borrow the neighbor’s dog. He plays with my kid all the time.” It was a good shot, and a lot of fun. I think it looked like his dog. A good day anyway.

I worked for this one photographer in London. I was a freelance assistant. The guy I worked for wasn’t nice to me, but at the end of the day, he was real cool. We would always cook an amazing dinner. The guy could really cook. It just shows that when you cook with someone you kind of get lost in the moment. It’s kind of like surfing. Surfing was like that. You just live in the moment. It’s kind of just opposite of now. You tend to think about the past or the future, cause the moment is kind of depressing.

I was gonna tell you one more story from the past, but my friend here reminded me I probably shouldn’t tell that story, so I’m gonna make it a short one and say good bye. Have a good week. Love and miss you guys. Love, B. Nice

Here’s my link to the blog about the present.

November 3, 2015


Hi everybody. Welcome to my blog where I talk about my past.

I was reading the last blog, and it reminded me of a couple of other people I sat next to on an airplane. I think I told you before, but, I worked with this one model that had basically never left her city. I told her I was taking her to South America. She kind of freaked out cause she had never been on a plane. Well, unfortunately our seats were at the back of the plane. That’s the worst place you can be for your first flight. Unfortunately, we also had major turbulence. Now this girl, this petite, feminine girl was very very loud. The minute we hit turbulence she started screaming, “Oh no, no, no! What’s that? What that? No fucking way! Oh God. Oh God.” You got the idea. She was holding on to my forearm like a vice grip. After a while I lost feeling in my arm. We didn’t get many drinks on that flight.

Another girl I sat next to I was talking to her about her previous shoot. She started describing the clothes, the magazine, the hair and makeup, etc. etc. I thought to myself, “Wait a minute. This all sounds very familiar.” And it turns out, she reshot my story. Apparently the magazine I worked for before this flight to Tunisia didn’t like the story I shot, so they reshot it on the model I was using. I already told you about why my shoot was a disaster, and why they had to reshoot it. It was pretty funny actually. It also changed my life. I didn’t stay in Paris after that disaster.

But, by far, my favorite girl I sat next to on an airplane was my friend who I worked with a lot. I told you this story before, but I’ll tell it again because it’s great. My friend upgraded us to first class. We had a bulkhead seat in first class. A great place to be. Anyway, we started watching a movie, having some champagne. You know, having a good time. Then she looked at me and said to me, “I don’t feel so good.” So I got her a bag in case she got sick. Well, we started watching the movie again, and drinking champagne. She looked up at me with her beautiful eyes and I noticed a little sweat on her cute little nose. Then I noticed a little bit of saliva on her beautiful lips. She then proceeded to scramble for the bag I got her and immediately hurled into the bag. She kept on power hurling into the bag. Filled the entire cabin with the smell of puke. The couple next to me were mortified. They looked over at me very concerned and I just looked at them and said, “Hi. How’s it going. Nice flight right?” She carried that bag I gave her all the way though customs. It was pretty funny, especially when they asked if she had anything to declare.

That’s about all for this week. I gotta save some stories for you for next week. Love and miss you guys. I’ll talk to you soon. Love, B. Nice

P.S. Here a link to my blog about the present.