Yeah, take a good look at it.
AHHHHHHHHHHH!
One word comes to mind: yikes. Was this an "it's early Monday" thing? Doubt it. Was this a "I'm too sexy for my ID picture" thing? Doubt it. Was this proof that every picture I take is a crappy one? Probably. So now I'm stuck with this scathing representation of myself. Every morning I put in in my pocket and wince. So when you don't see me wearing my ID around my next, you'll know why.
But, over the past three weeks I have been able to come to terms with this atrocity.
First there was denial: "There is no way that I look like that. Look at the quality of the picture! I swear it's the pixel resolution's fault!"
... then anger: "I don't care if I can't open doors. I'm not bringing this thing anywhere."
... barganing: "Maybe I could just take Patrick Jarenwattanon's. I mean who would even notice?"
... depression: "I have lost the will to live."
... and finally... acceptance: (see next paragraph)
So then I started thinking, "well this IS radio after all." Ahhh the beauty of radio: the beauty of non-beauty. Here we are behind microphones and computer screens. And will anyone know a difference if we are wearing tuxedos or bathrobes? Doubt it.
Thanks ID picture for being such a pain in the ass, that I actually like taking you around.
-pjf
1 comment:
no worries... when I got my DC ID taken I looked like a boy. a thirteen year old boy. ps. i'm not.
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