You're All Invited to Buy Me Polaroid Film and Then Come to My Birthday Party and Get One Picture for All Your Trouble. Oh. And Free Cocktails!

I love Polaroid. It's a love that began at age 12, when I found a stack of Polaroid pictures stuck together in an old shoebox that someone - my mom, probably - had snapped of me when I was wee; that continued when I bought my first vintage Polaroid camera at a musty thrift shop in San Diego at age 21 (later stolen by the asshole ex-boyfriend  of my vegan roommate. The vegan part is not relevant to the story, but I always think of her that way, so...); that deepened when I took up photography in 2008 and was given a Polaroid and some expired film as a birthday gift; that I fear will never, ever, f*cking ever die, and so I'll end up destitute, penniless and starving damn near to death since The Powers That Be no longer make Polaroid film. Sigh.

I woke at 3am from a recurring nightmare about an albino goat, and had an idea for a sort of collaborative art project. (I promise it doesn't include goats of any color.) That happens sometimes. Other times it happens that I wake at 3am from a nightmare and take a bubble bath, or swig vodka from the bottle, or watch a zombie movie, or clean my antique crystal decanter collection.

My idea is simple. It involves you. Keep reading.

I want to take Polaroid pictures for an entire year.

I want to pair them with nonsensical words like the ones you're reading now, into a story. My story.

I don't know yet what kind of story it will be, because I don't know what this year has in store for me. Could be an epic tragedy. Or a tale of redemption. Or a romantic comedy. Or an apocalyptic albino goat-slaying sci-fi thriller. Or some freaky combination of all of these things.

On my 33rd (sssshhh... don't tell anyone how wicked-old I am) birthday in December of 2012, I want to host a cocktail party where this visual story will be beautifully curated and displayed for your *viewing pleasure. That's right. You are invited to my party.

I want to give you a 'birthday gift.' An original Polaroid from my story that you can frame and cherish in your home, pass down to future generations, re-gift for Christmas or douse in gasoline and light on fire. (I'll sell prints of my favorites, too. You know... to offset the cost of all the alcohol I'm going to have to buy to get you to come to my party.)

If you can't come to my party in the flesh, I want to mail you your favorite Polaroid. Because it's better to give than receive. And because I like you. And because spending time at the post office during the holidays is super-fun and bears absolutely no resemblance at all to the 7th level of Hell.

And here comes the bit about the collaborative part of this project. Ready? In order to take Polaroid pictures with my beloved vintage Polaroid camera, I need Polaroid film. Which isn't cheap. So, I want my friends, family, complete strangers who cyber-stalk me, actual stalkers, random dudes who offer to buy me a drink at the bar and anyone at all I come into contact with over the next 12 months to find, steal or buy me some film.

Yep. Pretty cheeky, I know, but remember the part about giving and receiving?

If you're interested in collaborating with me to make art, and coming to party with me at the end of the year to celebrate my oldness, my story and our mutual love of cocktails and Polaroids, I want you to send me an e-mail. Or chat with me via Facebook. Or text or call me if you have my number. Or - if you're not a creep ass - come talk to me when you see me at the cafe, library or grocery store.

 I'm super-excited about this and I hope you will be, too! Enough to throw down for film! Yay film!

*Please note: your viewing pleasure will be directly concurrent with how many cocktails consumed.