My dear old friend Lanie (and when I say "old," I don't mean that she's "old," because she's not--I just mean that we've known each other forever) (and when I say "forever," I mean that, like, okay: even though I've lived a life filled with questionable fashion choices and hairstyles--I suppose we all have our fair share of questionable fashion choices and hairstyles, but I like to think that I have more than my fair share--I've known Lanie long enough for her to remember some of my earliest sins) (and she has proof) (photographic proof) (because as I was saying, my dear old friend Lanie) just emailed me a photo she found from our high school days (my 10-year-reunion was fun, by the way, I'll write more about it later).
I think the photo is totally embarrassing, which is why I'm posting it here, because why have a blog if not to post your most embarrassing photos on it, right?
I assume that I'm dancing in the photo, but because I'm looking at the camera it almost looks as if I'm posing for the photo, and that's just weird, because if this photo wasn't taken mid-dance-crunch, then what the hell?
Also, I know I set up that this was going to be a photo showing off a questionable fashion choice and hairstyle, and at first I thought I was sporting a mullet in the photo, but on closer inspection I think that's actually patio furniture in the background that's tricking my eyes into seeing a mullet. If I'm not mistaken, this photo was taken a few months before My Big High School Mullet. And I suppose that the clothes are fine, except when you take into consideration the fact that I loved this shirt so much I wore it every single chance I could get. As in: I swear I wore this shirt, like, four times a week. (Jesse, back me up here--you totally recognize the shirt, right?)
Enough diddle-daddle. Here's the photo I just found in my inbox, curtesy of Lanie:
Don't you want to dance with me?