photo friendly
I was looking at the book today. I don’t know why, because it’s not like i have a shitton of time on my hands. But i didn’t realize i had cracked the 100 mark on photos tagged. Congratulations to me right? That’s a pretty important milestone; if you ignore that most the photos are taken on about four cameras it proves I’m one popular bastard.
It was a long road to this point, but I thank the fans and, of course, Jesus most of all. If it weren’t for him, chilling all naked on those hunks of wood the ignorant masses wouldn’t have a place to go and I wouldn’t have the peace and quiet of Sunday mornings to recover from an ultra-social life of decadence. I thank the loan officials for opportunity to transition into higher learning and thus kill countless millions of sensitive neurons. There’s no better way to find, keep, torture, lose, and embrace friends than soaked in the warm bath of booze.
I found myself curious though. With a glance to the first set of photos, I realized I rarely look at the camera yes, many have told me, but I rarely hear them with the sound of my own greatness drumming in my ears like so many tribal percussionists at a fertility celebration. As I looked further there are three photos where I am definitively looking at the lens of whatever camera happened on taking the snap. In two of those I am so schwasted that it’s a heroic feat to be functioning. In one, I’m even holding a cake, with one hand and everyone says Hercules had it rough. In the other I’m bold enough as to rip a transit pass emphatically in two. The first I remember, the second… no so much.
That means there is only one photo on the book that I am coherent and looking directly at the automated optics of a lens. So which photo is it? One with Echo congratulations taken at New Year’s a couple years back. I don’t remember the photo being taken, but I remember the night relatively well. I believe certain pathways have shifted in relation to the survival instinct and some details were lost.
Why the neuronic adaptation? Because it was probably the most bored I’ve ever been at a celebratory event since my Baptism. The conversation was light and uninteresting. I wanted to make out with one of the other participants. It was the only thing keeping me in the cage of yawn while I itched to join a champagne train or chug-challenge in the other room. I received calls from the kids back in M.K.E. and wished I hadn’t chosen M.P.L.S.
My brain apparently a little-known chunk of the survival reflex numbed itself to the point I actually posed for a snap. Posed. Smiling. Disgusting.
Quickly, the top five reasons the book is better than the space.
1] privacy settings kick ridiculous amounts of ass. an example, if you aren’t a friend of one my friends and in my network, you can’t see me. Sweetness. But that also means not all of the threes of you will see the photo, spoken of above, [link disabled] here.
2] it’s not owned by Fox News Corp those fucking assholes
3] no ugly backgrounds and shitty songs playing automatically
4] better messaging platform and options for contact
5] photo functionality is solid.
Echo Says: