From Polaroid to iPhone, I guess some things never change

When I was around 3, I was fascinated by my parent's Polaroid camera. On at least one occasion there is a long standing family story about me going up to the camera, pushing the button and taking a picture of myself. When dad confronted me about taking pictures of myself asking, "Erin, did you push the button on the camera?" Without thinking it all the way through, what with only being 3 and all, I confidently answered no. That would have been great save for the whole POLAROID picture part of it... you know the tangible photographic evidence that was simultaneously spitting out of the camera. It would only be 30-45 seconds before my squished up little face would start to appear on that flimsy polaroid film and I would be completely busted.

Flash some 30 years later to last Friday. I got a little bored waiting for tpd to return home from a seemingly never-ending happy hour with some co-blowoffworkonfridayers. So when the St. Louis February weather was warm enough to sit on my deck and enjoy a cold brew, what else could I do but to take pictures of myself with my way cool iPhone (ps - that's a rhetorical question)...

In the beginning, things were going great and I was getting some killer Facebook profile shots, don't you agree? The lighting, the freshly washed hair, the 18 ounce Schlafly glass... it was a Social Network profile photo dream come true...

But, just when I think taking pictures of myself can't get any better, an all-too-familiar cigarette smoke smell and barking little rat dog sound snapped me out of my iPhone photo shoot...

Internal dialogue running through my head will be brought to you courtesy of Italics... Maybe she didn't see you holding the phone way out in front of you and tilting your head in that no-double-chin sort of way... Surely the shutter snap sound you recently adjusted to the highest volume can't carry that far. Don't turn around. Don't. Turn. Around. And then.... I turned around.

I saw the puffs of smoke before I saw her. Dammit - she's outside smoking...dammit she totally saw the whole thing. Drop your phone, hide it, put it down now, you moron. She probably didn't see it or even if she did she didn't know what it was, right, RIGHT?!

"Hi!" I call out in such a self-assured, confident sort of way, that surely she won't know I was taking pics of myself (that same stunt I had tried to pull on my dad - at least this time the evidence was safely hidden IN my phone).

"New phone?" She answers back. Dammit, dammit - she totally knows what was going down just now who are you kidding... just come clean, idiot, make a joke, chill the eff out, everyone takes pics of themselves, right, RIGHT?!

"Um, oh yeah, I just got the new iPhone (so not true) and I was just sorta playing with it... you know, taking a few pics of the dog and what not..." I say back to her. Dammit, dammit - who says what not? Why did you just say that to her? Is 'what not' the new word for "myself'" cause SHE KNOWS that's what you were doing. Now she thinks you're a complete idiot, pack it up, go inside and for the love of god, STOP TRYING TO OVERCOMPENSATE BY TAKING MORE PICTURES OF THE DOG NOW, you're starting to freak him out, too...

Sorry Brogan, I had no right to drag you down with me.

The bottom line, I blame all of this debacle on tpd. Long withstanding issues of photographing myself aside, had he not been late, I could have made him take the pictures of me (yes, I do that, too) and then it wouldn't have looked quite so weird. So, yup fault = husband. Husband FAIL.

ps - I'd ask you all to tell me that you do this too, but you won't will you? No one does this, do they? Go ahead, tell me, I can take it.