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wait, who let september happen?

Yesterday, I kited myself off to the suburbs for a photography outing. The set-up was simple: a friend needed guinea pigs for his portraiture assignment, and a whole slew of dirt-poor and socially terrified authors could do with having an up to date publicity mugshot if the offer was on the table.

As I was getting ready, the pterosaur decided to try and prepare me for the process by pulling out his own camera and bombarding me with photos, paparazzi-style. Mostly, I pulled faces at him, talked all through his efforts (which always results in photos of me wearing the most bizarre expressions), and generally acted like a muppet.

Here, for example, I am channelling my inner marabou. I don't think I'm particularly successful because I've seen a marabou exactly once, and at no point did said marabou look in any way bemused.

Unfortunately for all concerned, this panic-induced mania did not change when I actually reached the proper shoot, I must say. Which I suppose will have given the poor photographer excellent training in dealing with difficult subjects, but at the same time, there's now a very real chance there will be photos of me looking like some sort of science exhibit (Sept 2012: Crazy Lady, Looking Terrified) going into someone's portraiture assignment. I've decided to consider this a win for diversity.

And hey, after all that malarking about, I was fed a hearteningly strong cup of tea and the most delicious twitter cookies.

Tweet! Tweet! The cookies: on Twitpic

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