Picture Perfect

Or, in my case...not so much. Because pictures and words can go hand in hand...

Here it is, Ladies and Gentlemen--proof that I'm not all about words all the time; and more than that, I'm not all about the deep and depressing (let alone the deeply depressing). I still refuse to drop the 'tude, but this post is all about the lighter side of life. Maddy's face says it all. I entertained her for an hour and a half with a handful of pencil crayons and a camera. Oh, to be three years old again.







The cottage, complete with a view of the little red boat. The front door is a recent addition. Someday, maybe I'll tell you the whole story about how capable of deceit my father actually is. If you look carefully you can see the ski rope tied to the tree in the far right: it's keeping up my hammock where I spend the majority of my days up north. Usually the front of the cottage is littered with more water toys, but Shane took this picture when we went up for Thanksgiving. Brrr....

This might be the last surviving picture of me someday. Now you can see how exciting my life is--I went to Shane's house for his birthday dinner and got to look over paint samples with his mom before they fed me. Does that glass sitting in front of me send a shiver of hope through you? No such rum. Just plain coke. Shane has begged and pleaded with me to just leave this picture alone. It's not that good...but let me show you what my pictures usually look like.






Because I only trust the camera after a few rum and cokes...and umm...ya, I'm not gonna lie--there's no other excuse really for the horribleness of my face on film. I blame my lack of photogenes...The first person to say, "Wow, now I know why she is so bitter!" will be excommunicated. I don't even know what excommunication means in Weinism, but if I have to dream it up you can count on it not being any prettier than this picture.





Living, breathing proof that genetic speculation is majorly flawed. My older brother is at least twice my weight and stands about 15 inches taller than me. Takes a better picture too. Talk about getting the short end of the stick....

The most Brendany picture of Brendan I could find. Because I just had to prove that I don't have anything against pictures on blogs, I also just had to put up a picture of the sole inspirator. (And make up a new word in the process) See how happy this whole post has been? Birthday pictures...exotic locales...cheesy anecdotes...smiling faces...and I kept the self-deprecating humour you all love so much. The key to life is balance...that and knowing when the Benedryl is beating out your tired little brain. Time to call it a night. Stay tuned for more witless banter. Don't get too attached to the pictures though--they take half of forever to load and I rarely have that much time to spare. I'm much too busy contemplating the apocalypse. Don't forget to convert.