Got a request today asking that, since I'm "out", can I post some pictures of myself so you guys can tear my ass apart. Sure, why not? I already know I'm not photogenic and I'll lay it easy on myself by giving you guys the pictures that don't highlight my drunken inability to dance or speak or keep my eyes uncrossed. Okay, maybe one dancing picture...
Bad dancing picture, I know people with epilepsy that have better moves than me. Also, this outfit looks hideous on film but is kind of adorable in person, I swear.
Okay, I used to think this was a nice picture of me, but apparently I got a lot of flack from two blogs about looking like someone who, and I quote "was a simpleton who drove to 7-11 with a baby on my lap". It was a BBQ people, in July, in New York. a.) it's hot, b.) it was at my own house with my friends, c.) I hate children more than anything and trust me, I wouldn't dare let one in my Jeep, let alone on my lap where the smell would rub off on me. I'm from Long Island, not Kentucky.
Here's one for the rumor whores...me and my two best buds at a soccer game in Chicago circa 2009 I think? I cut them out because I don't know how fab they'd feel being on here. My eyes are shut and I was hungover working on like, 2 hours of sleep after having shopped the Miracle Mile or whatever the fuck it's called for 4 hours. This was easily the most bender weekend I have ever had in my life. I survived on vodka and Corona. We made Vegas look like The Discovery Zone. Yeah, I look like shit, because I felt as such. Sue me. I was lucky I had the strength to even put jeans on and not sweatpants.
And finally, another one I can laugh at myself over. When my ex-laxer boyfriend went back to college, I got some pictures done because I had played an April Fools joke on him that I got picked for Girls of the ACC (in my push up bra DREAMS) edition of Playboy, and he believed it but was excited, not terrified...so I got some lame pictures done to give to him when he went back to college. Obviously my 5'4" (5'5" on my license) stature isn't the only reason I am not a model. I swear, in person, I don't have that "dead behind the eyes" thing going on.
So go, you psycho stalkers and tear everything to shreds. I'm giving you the ammunition. Go! Run! Scurry!