Claims to Fame
Rob writes, "My photoshop claim to fame: the way the crop tool greys out the rest of the image? That was my idea. I sent it to the Abobe features request thing back in ooh probably about 1998. (After spending a frustrating day cropping images for a dull
website, and wishing the tool worked better.)"
What crappy claims to fame can you make?
( , Thu 24 Feb 2005, 12:49)
Rob writes, "My photoshop claim to fame: the way the crop tool greys out the rest of the image? That was my idea. I sent it to the Abobe features request thing back in ooh probably about 1998. (After spending a frustrating day cropping images for a dull
website, and wishing the tool worked better.)"
What crappy claims to fame can you make?
( , Thu 24 Feb 2005, 12:49)
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Meeting Mr and Mrs Black America
By odd chance and the flimsiest of pretexts, I found myself pitching a television program concept to Oprah Winfrey. Told I had five minutes, I was unexpectedly quite good and kept her interest for a half hour, at which point I abruptly ran out of spin, touched her plump, limp hand, and exited. Propelled out of her dressing room by an adrenalin rush, I rounded a corner too quickly and knocked myself senseless against the rib cage of a tall Black man. He extended an arm to help me up, but I chose to shake his hand and remain crumpled on the floor. "Well, LOOK WHO'S HERE!" I babbled idiotically. It was Jesse Jackson.
Oprah did the program, by the way, and it went quite well. A few weeks later I called my dad to tell him about it and learned he had been a guest on her show around the same time. Apparently it did not go so well, as the epsiode was never aired. He got to ride in a limo though.
( , Sat 26 Feb 2005, 16:06, Reply)
By odd chance and the flimsiest of pretexts, I found myself pitching a television program concept to Oprah Winfrey. Told I had five minutes, I was unexpectedly quite good and kept her interest for a half hour, at which point I abruptly ran out of spin, touched her plump, limp hand, and exited. Propelled out of her dressing room by an adrenalin rush, I rounded a corner too quickly and knocked myself senseless against the rib cage of a tall Black man. He extended an arm to help me up, but I chose to shake his hand and remain crumpled on the floor. "Well, LOOK WHO'S HERE!" I babbled idiotically. It was Jesse Jackson.
Oprah did the program, by the way, and it went quite well. A few weeks later I called my dad to tell him about it and learned he had been a guest on her show around the same time. Apparently it did not go so well, as the epsiode was never aired. He got to ride in a limo though.
( , Sat 26 Feb 2005, 16:06, Reply)
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