Blast From the Past
I keep getting this e-mail from kodak:
Dear Terra,
Buy our shit or your pictures get it.
Signed,
The finance people at the place where you freeload your ugly ass
pictures.
aka, kodak
I'll be honest.
I never really paid attention to this email. I mean, fuck it. I probably don't want those pics anyway.
You hear that kodak? FUCK YOU! Take my pics and torture them in the ringer. HOO HAW I DON'T GIVE A SHIT!
hehe.
Oh. Wait. Maybe I do.
So I logged in to check what the fuck I even had in there. Which is when I saw this picture.
Oh yeah. August 2004.
And all of a sudden I had this rush back to the person I was when this picture was taken.
We were sitting on my front porch, my hair was in complete fucking shambles, and it seems to me that we had slept in and were now soaking in the sun. Wasting the day away until it was time to get up, complete chores, go about our bizness.
I hate all pictures taken of me.
I confiscated the camera, but I had no idea how to work the damn thing, and so he convinced me that no pictures were taken.
I looked at him suspiciously. I fucking HATE people taking pics of me. But, since I was so digital camera stupid at the time, I finally chose to believe him.
Flash forward two weeks.
We're in the car for a long road trip, which I don't want to be on. For a week I've been thinking about breaking up whatever the fuck it is that we are doing.
Which is why I wanted to break it off.
If you don't know what you're doing, or even what kind of relationship you're in, then chances are you're doing NOTHING, and in no relationship at all.
In the car he hands me the camera and states that I'm official camera man. I'm flipping with the controls trying to figure out how to work the monster when I spot pics of pretty girls.
that's right.
pretty GIRLS. As in plural.
Now what the fuck am I doing in this damn car? I was so pissed.
But,
Well. It's not like I hadn't given some guy my number just two nights before. And technically we weren't exclusive. So was I really pissed? No. I just thought he should've had enough class to take the pics off his camera instead of leaving them for me to find.
Twice later that day I sneak peaks at the girls trying to figure out if they're his cousins, but if they are they're not any of the cousins I've met.
fuck.
I'm dating, or not dating, a slut.
huh.
Finally, later that day, he takes the camera from me and starts cycling through them, providing narratives for everything I've taken and everything he's taken.
When he get's to the girls he says loudly, "Oh! Who are these pretty girls?"
"Um. I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"No. I assume they're friends of yours."
"Terra. These are pics of you."
"What?"
And they were. Hah. What a funny/sweet memory.
That guy's a really good friend of mine now, but we are definitely not those people any more, and until right right now, I forgot we ever were.
PS, have you checked out my castpost? the song changes tomorrow.
