Photographic Memories

So I get word today that the crack smoking, bad beer drinking, no money (or actual award that I won in 2004) givin editors at a certain paper that I won't name right now, wants to have a write up on yours truely here and his little journal called Needles for Teeth. I have to do a little interview and everything. And I have to take goddamn pictures! I hate taking pictures, I really do. Not that I think I'm ugly or anything, on the contrarary, I've been told that I'm one of the most handsome dudes in Denver, which is true of course, why shouldn't I be? I'm rough and tough in a snazzy black suit, Sam L. Jackson my ass!

Drink my goddamn beer!!

Flynn's Beer: "So good you'll punch out the bartender and his mama!"

But I digress, I hate getting my picture taken. It all goes back to when I was a little kid and my mother took me to Sears (which is tramatizing enough), some people were there with a baby leapord and you could get a shot with the little guy, me being a cat lover I begged to get a picture with it. So I got up there, they gave you the little guy to hold and SNAP! there's your picture, well, for me there was a SNAP, and then a claw, and then a bite, and then a scream, and then someone yelled "Oh my GOD!" and then a rush to the hospital for shots in the belly, many of them, many.

So now I don't like having my picture taken, bad memories with the flash, and screams, and scratching and biting, and...

Anyway, those whorehoppers want to do a write up with photos.

Hooray for me.

I'm gonna go and get a bottle of wine now...