My Trigger Finger Has Better Things To Do

(He's yelling from downstairs)

"Alexis!"

(Pretend like you don't hear him)

"ALEXIS!"

(Maybe he will think you are gone)

"AAAAALLLLLLEEEEEXXXXXIIIIIISSSSS!!!!!!!!"

(He's running out of energy.  Good.  ...Oh shit.  What's that?  Is that the dog?  It can't be the dog.  We euthanized her last week.  Crap.  It's him.  He's walking up the stairs.  Ok.  Plan B.  Pretend like you are sleeping.  Not light sleep either.  Make it seem like you are in a coma.)


(Knock Knock Knock)

"Alexis?"

(Don't move!)

"Alexis!"

(Stop breathing!  You're giving yourself away!)

"ALEXIS!"

(Great.  Here he comes.)

This is the point when I pretend like I'm awakening from a deep slumber so that I don't make it too obvious that I was pretending.  My eyes are little slits, my voice is muffled and I move at the pace of a zombie.

"...What?...  What do you want?"

And now comes the question.  The question that I've been trying to avoid.  The question that is the beginning of the rest of a horrible day.  In 1...  2...

"Can you take a picture of me?'

The misery.  I don't want to name any names.  For the sake of anonymity let's just call him... "Brad".  So I know this guy named ...Brad.  Brad is nice enough, but is going through a phase right now where he is utilizing one of those lame dating websites.  I just don't understand them.  Why not just get out and meet people?  Dating websites...  Don't even get me started.  Anyhow, for the website, each person that is affiliated with it needs to have a profile picture.  The profile picture being a sweet orderve that tickles the viewer's fancy and gets them amped up for the main entree.  The point of the picture is to use it as bait.  It's supposed to show how loving, outgoing, funny, intelligent, sexy, admired, witty and (most of all) how great you are in the sack.  Based on one picture, people are supposed to judge whether they would talk to you in real life or not.  Whatever. 

My whole contention here is this.  Brad is the WORST person to take a picture of.  Is he ugly?  No.  Actually, he has a pretty symmetrical face and takes nice pictures.  Brad's problem is that he treats everyone like they are professional photographers. 

"How should I look?  Is this a flattering angle?  Does the lighting illuminate my face in an angelic yet saucy fashion?  Should I stick my ass out more?  Girls these days love asses on guys.  How about my outfit?  Should I change it?  Is this good?  Maybe I should put my hand in my pocket.  Oh wait.  I was watching TV yesterday and it said that if your palm is facing out, then it looks like you are a giving and open person.  Now how could I project that in the photo with my heart?" 

I want to shoot myself.  Plain and simple.  The worst part comes after EVERY SINGLE PHOTO.  Brad is one of those people who can't just pose and let someone click away.  He's one of those neurotic bastards who has to see EVERY SINGLE PHOTO right when it's taken.  A process that could easily take less than 5 minutes surpasses an entire hour.  You would think that one would be thrilled with the results, but no.  After every photo-op with Brad, I get the same response.  He claims that he looks terrible and damns the websites that he uses.  He damns the camera, he damns his receding hairline and he damns me for not having a photographer's eye at capturing the essence of his true inner beauty...

"Well can you, Alexis?"

"Huh?  Can I what?"

"Can you take a quick picture of me?"

(Just off me right now)


"...Sure."