Sorry I haven't been posting...life is hectic, to say the least. I still can't find my camera cord, but Cal sent me some of her pictures, so I'll post a few of hers instead. It looks like I may have to redo all my photos, as hpphoto will no longer be allowing its "Create Link for Auction" feature after April 26. I don't know if this means that it will screw up all photos posted, or just ones after the 26th. Eh, we'll soon find out.
(Disclaimer: Most of these include our friend Bob, as he is a camera whore.) Anyway:
First off, a photo of Bob enjoying the fruits of my digital photographic labors (which, sadly, you don't get to see yet). The Euro-pale hands in the Army dress uniform jacket sleeves are mine.
My hair after a bunch of bored and vindictive band geeks got through with it. Note to self: never mock-insult people with whom you are trapped on a Greyhound.
Another bus photo. Yes, this is how Bob sleeps.
This is Cal and Bob doing their Corey Hart impressions in Cal and my hotel room. See the person in the burgundy jacket on the edge of the photo? That's totally me.
Another Bob photo. I told you he was a camera whore. You can't really see it (blame Cal), but he's under the wheel of a tractor. We got homesick, so we reenacted a decidedly South Dakotan activity while we were at the Chicago Museum of Science and Industry. Really dumb farm accident deaths: we're number one!
Lastly, a real photo with me in it:
This is Bob, Cal, and me feeling goofy at Navy Pier. I don't know why I look so snarky, and I don't know why I look like I'm seven years old. This photo doesn't really look much like me at all (and I'm not just saying that). Perhaps it's because I'm ridiculously sleep-deprived in this picture. In my defense, I never told you I was photogenic (because I'm not). By the way, note the stylish band shirts they forced us to wear. I'm rebelling and covering mine up. It was 80 degrees that day, so I'm a dedicated band rebel.
(Disclaimer: Most of these include our friend Bob, as he is a camera whore.) Anyway:
First off, a photo of Bob enjoying the fruits of my digital photographic labors (which, sadly, you don't get to see yet). The Euro-pale hands in the Army dress uniform jacket sleeves are mine.
My hair after a bunch of bored and vindictive band geeks got through with it. Note to self: never mock-insult people with whom you are trapped on a Greyhound.
Another bus photo. Yes, this is how Bob sleeps.
This is Cal and Bob doing their Corey Hart impressions in Cal and my hotel room. See the person in the burgundy jacket on the edge of the photo? That's totally me.
Another Bob photo. I told you he was a camera whore. You can't really see it (blame Cal), but he's under the wheel of a tractor. We got homesick, so we reenacted a decidedly South Dakotan activity while we were at the Chicago Museum of Science and Industry. Really dumb farm accident deaths: we're number one!
Lastly, a real photo with me in it:
This is Bob, Cal, and me feeling goofy at Navy Pier. I don't know why I look so snarky, and I don't know why I look like I'm seven years old. This photo doesn't really look much like me at all (and I'm not just saying that). Perhaps it's because I'm ridiculously sleep-deprived in this picture. In my defense, I never told you I was photogenic (because I'm not). By the way, note the stylish band shirts they forced us to wear. I'm rebelling and covering mine up. It was 80 degrees that day, so I'm a dedicated band rebel.
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