Tomorrow afternoon, I'm going downtown to meet up with a photographer for a major metropolitan newspaper to Have. My. Picture. Taken. And what with journalistic standards and all, they don't intend to Photoshop out those blemishes. (I've been breaking out lately, and really, am I not too old for such dermatological nonsense?)
Omigodomigodomigodomigod whatamigoingtowear? I have to go shopping. Dammit! Why is this spring break week? Why are my daylight hours not kid-free this week? Between the play dates scheduled for today and tomorrow, I will scarcely have time to shop. Unless, of course, I actually take the kid with me to a store, or go shopping in the evening when I would prefer to wear pajamas. Gee, when you put it that way, it really doesn't sound like such a crisis after all.
But a portrait? For the newspaper? Gack!
(Tomorrow's hero prize goes to my mom, who's taking the afternoon off work to keep the boy busy while Mommy has her glamour-shot experience.)
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
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5 comments:
Why are you to be in the paper? Did you knock over a liquor store? Rescue a busload of nuns and orphans? What?
Heh, you have to send us a link to the article, you know.
Sergei, either you don't remember every single word I've written, or you didn't read the March 14 post. I don't know which would be more upsetting...
Oh, I read it. I didn't pay any attention, but I read it. Think of it as a sign of affection - I do the same thing to my wife. :)
Great, just what I need—another man who hears the sound without actually listening. Does your wife know you're such an inattentive flirt?
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