Such was the case for me. Anyway, as the custom goes they called us to our yearbook doom over the intercom and my chatty class--all little of us--trudged down to the activity room. I waited in line, staring at the trophies, until out of nowhere it became my turn.
When the photographer asked me how I was doing I looked at him eye to eye and let him know, "I'm doing awesome, thanks!"
His response was a mix between a 'ch-teenagers' scowl and a 'I can't wait until my lunch break' frown. So, deciding I'd made my point, I proceeded to plop my apparenly-overly-optomistic self on the tiny black stool.
"What's your name?" he asks.
I answered (using my inside voice this time) and chickened out on making a goofy expression by simply painting what I hoped was a decent smile on my face.
"Ah, you're the boy chaser aye?"
I knew he'd just said that to the last girl he took a picture of but I couldn't help but chortle ;) at his perception--or lack there of.
Oh yes, them boys don't stand a chance against my nerdy report cards and skills for tripping over my own feet. And I'm sure my jeans and t-shirt just hold them captivated, not to mention the fact that I borrow my little brother's gym shorts.
Yeah, that photographer basically made my day. I should've snuck him a tip or something.
No comments:
Post a Comment