Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Oh, Wilbur, I do believe I am blushing.

Imagine my panic and sheer delight when I saw the words: Equine Wedding Portrait Photography, all mashed together in the same sentence.

Giddy up.

I normally steer well clear of horses and weddings for a variety of oddly, similar reasons. Both scare the crap out of me. Both are a big, fat waste of money, and take you down a path you really aren't convinced you want to be on. Both horses and brides spend a great deal of time and energy getting Brazilian waxes, braided tails, and hooves trimmed, so they can trot around all happy and "look at me", just before being lead back to the barn. Forever. And, if one or the other gets spooked, someone ends up flat on their ass wondering what the hell just happened. Plus, trust me – once the blinders are off and the saddle bags start to slide, it's lipstick city.

Whoa, Nelly, get back on track.

Picture, if you can, my double delight to think I'd stumbled upon a freakier than Michael Jackson type scoop. Equine wedding. A true-to-life 'Girl Meets Stallion' beastiality romance. My mind was racing off to witness some sort of Mister Ed stud marrying the farmer's daughter, who incidentally dropped 60 pounds before the nuptials, then bounced back to looking like a Clydesdale before the honeymoon was over. Bloody brilliant fodder for creativity I say!

And, please tell me you are old enough to remember Mister Ed. If not, fuck off and go read Harry Potter or Confessions of a Shopaholic.

Okay, bear with me for a moment while I regain my composure. I just did a spell check for beastiality because my computer keeps questioning the spelling (or maybe it is asking me "why?"). Anyway, I am currently more disturbed than when I accidentally saw my grandmother's private parts (beaver) in the hospital once, when her nightie rolled up. While spell checking, I innocently (no longer) opened a beastiality website and now it is taking every fibre of my being not to go back to see if that young lady was really doing to the German Shepherd what I think she was doing. Jesus, I thought I loved my dogs but please make those images go away. They are burned into my corneas.

That dog was really happy to see her.

Anyway back to my incredible journalistic breakthrough with the equine wedding. Sadly, all my hopes for a title like, "Stud Trots Down Aisle with Cocktail Waitress" have been dashed. Instead, I bring you Christine Donavan, a talented, local photographer who captures boring old horses and stupid old weddings.


Yes, Christine Donavan is a wedding photographer. And, she is a horse and pet photographer. What really pisses me off, is the two lines never cross. The line never blurs, even a bit, although she does have the odd shot of people with their dogs but nothing even remotely close to what I saw just moments ago on that sick, sick, website.

Jesus. You'd think Christine, with her eye for capturing the moment, would offer up just one drunk bridesmaid out in the barn with Mister Ed's cousin from Baltimore. A Polaroid even.

Is that asking too much?

Find Christine Donavan's work online at: or email her at: