The Blog Formerly Known As Practical Paralegalism
I’ve already confessed I’m excruciatingly shy, and taking pictures of myself still feels weird. But self photography is not only helping my sartorial style, it’s helping my actual photography skills develop, too.
This morning I felt really bold. Either my coffee was extra strong, or my anti-depressant dosage is getting just right, but I wanted to take some pictures in a more public setting, partly because I was intrigued by the yellow fog creeping ’round on little cat feet.
So there I am, camera set up, remote in hand, doofus-ly (no, that’s not a word) snapping pics of myself while reminding myself to stand up straight and not pose pigeon-toed, when a man in the adjoining parking lot starts yelling at me.
I can’t hear what he’s yelling, so I walk to the edge of the parking lot, and say the equivalent of, “EH?”
And then he yells really loud, “STOP TAKING PICTURES OF MY CAR!!!!”
I am bum-effed. Well I was. I finally found speech, and yelled back, “I’M NOT TAKING PICTURES OF YOUR CAR!!!” I wish I’d thought to yell, “Your wife hired me to follow you!” but I never think of super witty retorts until it’s too late.
So he sez, “THAT’S A CAMERA ISN’T IT?”
I had to admit it was indeed a camera, and then politely said it was not pointed at his car, and I was in fact not taking photos of his nondescript black sedan. (As a legal professional, I’m cognizant of not including legible license plate and/or house numbers if they happen to be in photo settings.)
“Oh, it’s okay then,” he generously pronounces, and merrily waves as he walks off.
“Well thank you very effing much,” I mumbled, probably rather loudly. (Perhaps the anti-depressant dosage could be adjusted a tad).
I also got yelled at and then profusely apologized to at work today, which is fodder for a whole ‘nother post, but I’m going to sign off now and go back to reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower, based on The Teen’s recommendation. Nope, I haven’t seen the movie. I don’t do movies before books.