Tuesday, December 23

Portrait of the artist as a complete doofus

I thought my narcissism knew no boundaries, but I had no idea. Digital cameras are evil. I'm trying to justify taking pictures of myself -- you know, I need one for my website anyway, I just got my hair cut, how do I view myself, blah blah blah.

To take a picture of myself requires one of two things: Really long arms or a mirror. The only place I have a mirror is the bathroom, so first I have to make sure the bathroom is lovely. Then I take a picture and realize I should really Windex the mirror. I get a lovely boob shot except that there's this reflection from the flash, so then I have to play with the camera some more to figure out how to turn off the flash. And since I'm no contortionist, I really can't get a shot without either looking stupid because I'm focusing on the camera screen or having the camera obscure half of my face.

I gave up after about 10 minutes of this because I have things to do and I haven't eaten lunch yet. There shall be no pictures before Mountain Dew. It's a decree. An official decree.

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