Slackjaw slacker

I can hear the grumbling now. "No more goddamn pictures, you lazy slut! When's the last time you wrote us anything? Can you just toss us aside so easily, Miss Assless Packrat?"

While it's true that the last couple of posts have been all about keeping the content fresh while keeping the effort low, I have to say in my defense - how could I not share me in a tiny wedding dress, followed by me in a prom dress? What kind of sick, goat worshipping one-two punch is that, and how utterly wrong would it be for me to keep it all to myself?

But yes, I am a lazy blogger.

There has been more to do here in preparing to leave than I ever thought possible; it doesn't feel right for me to still be here, I'm pushing myself to get through all this with all due haste, and as a result, I am incredibly, crushingly, oppressively stressed out right now. I've sorted through so many photos that I feel like my life just flashed in front of my eyes, but not in an "I'm gonna die!' way - nothing so dramatic, more of a retrospective slideshow, watched from a fairly uncomfortable chair. There have been a few pictures along that way that have made me suddenly bark with laughter, and then throw them aside for immediate scanning. I figure, if they're funny enough to break up my monster tension, then they might well be worth sharing.

Here's one.




You can barely see the lobotomy scar anymore...

Dig on my eggbeater hair style. Combine that with the just-about-to-drool, retarded-deer-in-headlights quality of my facial expression, and you have a pretty accurate portrait of what I look like first thing in the morning.

Maybe I should make business cards. Will humiliate self publicly for cheap laughs and crab legs.