Me an' a tie? Tie an' I! Never thought you'd see it - weep an' believe it; it happens to the worst of us.
Nice reflection of the bald head in the window, nice shot of the snotty nostrils in the foreground. Call me a sophisticated, high-powered, dynamic Wall Street-style, wheelin' an' dealin' business man. Call me what you like.
Life's a game. Rules are made to be broken, just a little bit. Like never wearing a tie. Depends where you wanna go. Swore I wouldn't. Damned if I would. Then I did. Some clubs can be fun... in short doses.
How many people believe in the rules anyway? How many people take them seriously? Or at face value. Call yourself a man? Where are your battle scars? Call yourself a woman? Why are you still whole? Call yourself a Christian/Muslim/Jew? Where's your cross/beard/cap? Call yourself a mug? Where's your Power Balance bracelet?
The list goes on. What club are you a member of? Really?
Luuuvvvelly flowery wallpaper, Brian! Can't remember where this was... hang on... oh yes, reflected in a round shiny thing of some sort which I can't place for the life of me. I don't really look like that, you understand - it's COMPLETELY distorted. I'm actually a rather suave, urbane middle-ages (ha! first time I've written that) gentleman, not the renegate rogue-type you see here. It's all done with mirrors, you see..
I tried taking another 'mirror-distorter' yesterday which I noticed as I sat on the bog of one of those peepods you find sprinkled around Paris. Due to the extremely wide angle of the good old iPhone, however, and the difference in point of view of its lens and my eyes, it just gave me some rather disturbing pics of yet another middle-aged perv taking pics of himself on the shitter, and not the weird and wiley effect I was after at all at all.
So when all's said and done, I'll stick with the dodgy wallpaper, wherever it was, and leave it at that. I'll also have to stop including the actual camera in the shots at it's starting to smack of amateurness if you ask me. Not that you did, but that's what comes of posting to a blog no-one ever comments on: dilerium sets in and you start talking to yourself, but seriously. At least I don't refer to myself in the third person. Not yet anyway.
Sab will be back soon, and he thanks you for visiting. Not that you did. You know what he means. Please tell him. When you get a round toowit.