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Stop taking my photo little girl, or you will suffer bodily injury

Hello, this is Sir. Happy New Year, you say? More like Crappy New Year… Why so dismal and dreary, so deplorably dark? Well…life is not the easiest to live when it consists of a series of endless photo-shoots. Yes…living with a paparazzo protégé has its hardships…

She Wants me to be an Irish Convert

First off…she picks out horrid outfits for me to wear, like I’m some kind of doll-like thing…I mean, look at this! The torment…and she has about 23,000 hats to put on my head. All to appease that dratted camera Eye clicking in my face, glazed over like that of a predator’s before the pounce…

When I look up, perhaps...she'll be gone??

Sometimes, I pretend to fall asleep and pray that when my eyes open again, she’ll have lost the camera….but I know it isn’t so, because I can hear the camera clicking incessantly the whole time I’m wishing in darkness

She exploits my tears for a photo...

Even when I start to cry, she doesn’t get the hint… “Why Sir, you’d make a perfect Scrooge with those sideburns!” (they were HER idea, by the way, so was this ridiculous coat, and all these blasted hats) She continues, “Aye, arg, you look like you’ve strolled right out of a Dickens novel!”

Maybe when I turn around, she won't be there anymore with that blasted camera....

“Brilliant!! You look just like a mobster, some horrid beast from ‘On the Waterfront’, ooo yes, work that gritty magic, fabulous! Woo work that aquiline nose, too perfect!” Is that supposed to be a compliment? Must gently remind her later she might not consider becoming a model-photographer…

I don't see how this makes a "grand" photo as you put it...

“There’s the calculating, gritty and arid city-slicker, oooo what a glare! Yes! You look just like a hit-man!” More flamboyant flatteries flow forth…

The Causeway

Sometimes, she finally stops shoving her beloved in my face to take a photo of something a bit more practical. I get some relief to brood.

Thank Goodness, she fell!

Sometimes, I can steal away whilst she’s busy falling into the river or something. Maybe even while she’s occasionally photographing something of interest…or something not so interesting…

No Peace...

Drat! The ambulating camera found me…”Oooo Sir, you have a Bogart look going there, I MUST capture it!” Another thing this camera-fanatic lacks whenever the “eye” is poised in hand, is decorum. See…car-fanatics or motorcycle enthusiasts or avid surfers still have a lot of time where they must be apart from their beloved darlings. They cannot tote their surf-boards, Corvettes, and Harley Davidsons everywhere they go- they can’t take them into the middle of the farmer’s market (hmm…some might try), to the theatre, or into a quaint little bistro or café for their dainty tea-time appointments. But the camera fanatic is different. She drags the thing everywhere with her like Linus and his blasted blue blanket. Her beloved is glued to her hands and poking in my face everywhere I turn…

I went in here to escape...with all these people, and she still found me with that blooming camera...

And the hats….Here our demonette was photographing so avidly that some nice lady came prancing up and giggled into my ear, “You must be quite beautiful to have so many photos taken of you! Haw haw!!” Her husband, a huge hulking guy in a fleece jumper, was beet red. Then the lady kissed the hat…I don’t know how she could stand it, darn things reek of cigar ash. Where does Babs find these blooming hats, anyway, and how did she accumulate SO MANY of them?! Meanwhile, Husband looks like he’s gearing up to beat my face so hard the darn hat will go sailing clear across the room…

The Panhandler?

When she’s not having me break up marriages, Babs also likes to “pose” me around downtown, to do a “noir” shoot… “Brilliant, brilliant Sir!” she chimes at me all the time, “You look suave, perfect, so smooth, so noir!” I know what she’s really made me look like…a panhandler…

You're not Fooling Me...I know who you've made me look like....some kind of goon in a checkered hat

Or this guy. She’s not fooling me…

Got Da Blues I Do

So, now a New Year is rolling in. I suspect 2013 is going to be filled with more and more of these “brilliant shoots” with Babs and her dratted pet camera…so, I’ll cry here in the blue light and think of days of old when she was only so high and gave me licked-dry doughnuts for a gift and thought it was funny to throw footballs in my face, call me a “bobo” and draw unflattering pictures of me- but did not OWN A BLASTED CAMERA! P.S. If any future prospective employers find these infamous photographs (that I know my tormentor will slap online with chop-slaking glee), the possibility of obtaining such job will become…toast…

A most content and deeply chuffed New Year to all, happy 2013 from a slightly disgruntled Sir and a wee smiling toad, Autumn Jade.

Cheers!

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