My old school has recently (as in, in the last year or so) put all it’s old year photos on the interwebnet. Which was probably a nasty move.
I’d known about this for a wee while now, but, in another nasty move, someone sent the link to me again today.
And I opened it at work. Which was probably a silly move, since questions such as “can we see if we can find you?” ensued. And could they find me? They could not.
Usual rules apply: there are no prizes; no cheating by going and looking at the site for clues; those with prior knowledge of said photograph are ineligible for the non-existant prize.
As an aside, the people in the office say that I now look nothing like that picture. Hell, in that picture, I had hair. And the badness of the hair is one of the prime reasons why I no longer have hair. And I was a scrawny, short, annoying bastid. Which is pretty much where my self image is grounded. Oh well. Apparently one of the hardest things to change is how one sees oneself. Have I changed? I hope so, but I don’t see it myself.
Front row dead centre
Got it in one. How is it that people off of the internet, who only see a few select photos of me, can recognise me there when people who sit in the same office can’t?
The people who see you every day have built up a picture of you in their minds that may be at odds with your actual looks.
But, said she huffily, just someone of the internet, do the people in the ofice DREAM about you like I did last night. In my dream you had decided to take holy orders. You lived in a little ‘cell’ with the most hideous wallpaper but you didn’t care because you were so not gay. This order allowed you to keep and run an amazing motor. I hadn’t a clue what it was but it was red and gleamed and you said it went very fast. Maybe the Father Superior was Jeremy Clarkson? One snag tho’. The order was very strict about celibacy!
Ah, but if I had a fast car I could get very far from the order very quickly, and leave all it’s rules behind.
And where did I say just someone of the internet? I meant it as ‘someone whoi has met me once and has otherwise only seen a carefully vetted selection of photographs’ as opposed to ‘someone who sits in the same room as me for 8 hours a day and has done so for nigh on 2 years’.
Do you didn’t use the word just and if you had I would have enclosed the word/words in quotation marks. And the point of my dream was you loved being a priest. Loved it.
Haha – my aunt V would be soo happy – hers prayers answered and all that :-p
Joe: IIRC, she was praying for you, and I just got mentioned in passing.
Nelly: now you’re just being mean… How could a man ever love a job with no heavy lifting, little paperwork, little interference from the Big Boss, lots of throughput of nice, untracable cash…
Hang on, I could be missing a trick here…
You went to St. Malachy’s? This is probably the weirdest thing ever, but you don’t happen to know anyone that goes there now do you? Specifically, a bass-player named Anton?
Er, no, don’t know anyone there now. About ten years too late for such things, really…
Aww, Ed… cute!
That is all.