Fabricated spontaneous joy makes me want to punch a side of raw beef Rocky-style until my fists are swollen like grapefruits. The wedding party leap is perhaps the most egregious example of this. Although, I will give it to the first cat who did it. I'm sure it set the wedding photography industry ablaze. But c'mon. I'm trying to lay the groundwork with Charlene, the marginally attractive funtime gal in the peach chiffon. Don't make me act like a goof. It's undignified. Plus, I don't need my flask popping out and upsetting the bride on her most magical of days.
No comments:
Post a Comment