Ok, now that I think about it I do like boobs. But none of that other crap.
That said, last Thursday I felt just like a typical Bud Light commercial dad. You see, last Thursday was Veterans Day. This meant that Monica was home for the day and expected to spend it as a family. This was all fine and good, except for the part where she thought it would be a good idea to spend it as a family at the mall- specifically the photo studio called 'The Picture Place' or 'The Picture People' or something like that- just a few weeks before Christmas. I almost immediately found myself wishing I had some sort of device where I could sneakily watch Internet videos and analyze football stats, and I couldn't help but to start subconsciously speaking to my family in a short tone.
As soon as she told me that we had an appointment to get the baby's pictures taken I knew I did not want to go, but I said I would because I am a nice guy and, let's face it, any enjoyment I would have taken out of having a few hours at home by myself would have been shattered when Monica came home with her hair all messed up, looking all stressed out and pissed off because she had to wrangle the baby through the mall by herself. So, I agreed to go and pretended that I cared what the baby wore in the picture and who we were going to send them to when they were done. Personally, I hate professionally done photos. I don't get it. If you were a grandmother wouldn't you rather have a cute photo of your grand kids in their natural habitat than some artificial shot created in front of a white screen? I think most of the time the kids in the pictures don't even look like they do in real life. But that is just me.
We got to the Picture Place to find about 6 million kids and their stressed out, bitchy moms lining the walls of the store and meandering about outside with scowls on their faces and Starbucks in their hands. Apparently, the mid-week off day provided a perfect opportunity for awkward holiday family photos for all. This was, in my world, the equivalent of toiling in Hell for an afternoon. The photo place pissed me off just about immediately when it became apparent that the appointment we had made pretty much meant nothing. We gave the lady our name, we checked in and we still ended up sitting among the masses for over a half hour before any action was taken. This is fine if you are getting your oil changed or waiting for a table at a nice restaurant with a bar. Not when you are sitting next to some lady with 5 kids dressed in Christmas pajamas all bitching because the are hungry. While Monica chased the baby through the crowds and tried to get her to play with toys I sat. I listened to children being scolded because of their attitudes. I listened to moms gossip about their caddy friends and quietly complain about how busy it was at the photo place. I watched the efficient Picture Place manager direct her employees and keep order, and I watched as a group of shopping mall photographers tried, usually in vain, to pose children in all sorts of unnatural, awkward positions, usually with shitty holiday props.
As if the room was not crowded enough, a man dressed as Santa soon showed up and started meandering around like he just walked in to a high school reunion. He was leaning against the wall shooting the shit with employees, standing around with his hands in his pockets and doing a mediocre job of interacting with children, which garnered a wide variety of reactions. Some kids ran up to him and gave him hugs, others made snotty comments like 'That's not really Santa.' Yeah, you little douchebag, obviously that isn't really Santa. You think Santa came all the way here just so you could ask him for a Nintendo DS? Fat chance. At this point I was so angry at this little snot that I just wanted to yell in his face that there was no Santa. I did not. Impressive restraint by me. The baby was pretty shy when he was around, but in the end she liked him and even gave him a high five at one point. Weird. For the rest of the day she kept saying 'Santa is a nice guy.' His interactions with the children were fleeting, he wasn't set up anywhere, he was just wandering around the store. He asked them all what they wanted and then offered commentary on their choices, like 'I am hearing a lot about those this year' or 'Those are pretty expensive, you know.' The sad thing is that most of those 7-year-olds are going to probably get cell phones for Christmas, and they are all going to be nicer than mine. Children should not be allowed to have electronic gadgets. It was at this point that I was really pondering walking over to the Apple store next door and just pretending that I had interest in buying a fantasy football avoid my family phone. Just to get the hell out.
Finally, after what felt like six hours, but was really just like 45 minutes, we got called over to our little photo area. Surprisingly, the baby had no apprehension about getting her pictures taken at all. I thought for sure that she would do the whole stranger danger thing and freak out, but she was all set to go. Maybe it was because she had a lot of time to watch the other kids doing it. Whatever the case, she was having a great time, rolling around on the floor, posing in weird ways and laughing her ass off. As for me, I had just about had it by the time it was our turn to go. It had been a long time, I was hot and sweaty and had just spent the last ten minutes holding about 8 bags and sitting on a stool next to a mother who was having an argument with her spoiled daughter about going to Pretzel Time. I was ready to take the damn shots and get out.
The baby's antics were amusing enough and were kind of keeping me going, but as soon as the photographer opened her mouth that all went away. Photographers at the Picture People establishment have a certain way of dealing with children, and it is obnoxious. They make loud noises to get their attention and they try to make them laugh. This is fine. I get why it works and I get why they do it. However, our particular photographer was a bit too much for me to handle. Her voice was very, very loud and she kept making the noise that crazy old women make when they are trying to get the attention of a house cat. The most irritating thing, though, was the fact that she kept yelling 'Say stinky feet! Do you have stinky feet?' Ugh. Shut UP lady! Anyway, the baby kind of liked her so it was fine, but in all of her noise making and distraction she seemed to forget to actually take pictures. She was so concerned about getting the right professional pose that she missed a ton of good faces. Of course, I am again of the mind that a 'good picture face' is a natural, funny, cute, smiling one, and apparently everyone else seems to think that she needs to look like a store mannequin. So, along we went with this charade for about 20 minutes or so, mixing in a stool that she never sat on, a ball that she kept throwing at the photographer and a lot of spastic dancing. It was all hysterical, if it weren't for the 600 other people around me, the 107 degree temperature inside the mall and the continuous, obnoxious, loud old lady cat noises.
Once the shots are taken you are summoned to a computer where someone sits down and shows you the shots that you want to pick out to buy. I was in charge of the baby who decided that this was the point in time where she wanted to pull out all of her baby wipes and pretend to clean the inside of the photo store, which given all of the children prancing through there, was probably a pretty decent idea. My favorite part of the day was when she ran behind the counter where the tyrannical manager was working. I was a little disappointed that the manager wasn't there to freak out and yell at us, but then I realized that some snot mom spilled her coffee all over the floor and had sprung the staff in to action to help her clean it up. She, in fact, showed no remorse for the spill, either, despite the very clear 'no food or drinks' sign on the wall. She came over to the counter with this entitled look on her face and said 'I spilled my coffee, we're going to need some paper towels.' She is lucky I didn't work there, because I would have not have been as nice.
The pictures came out fine. They look professional, like picture day at school with a touch more whimsy. I would still prefer a shot of Av in her sweats dancing in the living room, but, hey, at least we have some Christmas shopping taken care of. In retrospect, it would have been a pretty funny day if we had just gone and been able to have her picture taken without the super long wait and the hoards upon hoards of families in seasonal sweaters, but that is the way it goes, I guess.
We still had to hang around the mall for another half hour or so after waiting for the pictures to be developed, and that was when I really thought I was going to lose it. Again with the cranking heat- sure it is November, but it was like 45 degrees out, no need to bake all of us- and the stupid amount of people everywhere, I was in full out 'dad is missing his football game' mode. I was ready to split. But first we had to wait, and while Monica was waiting in line at Picture Hell Av took her cup of water from Pretzel Time and hurled it across the mall. It was like slow motion as I watched it explode on the ground in front of the hand cream kiosk. I didn't even ask for paper towels, I just went the other way. Maybe I was a bit too harsh on that other mom with the coffee.
Here are a few pics. Many of you may find these gift wrapped and in your mailbox around a month or so from now, because I sure as Hell am not going to buy you anything from the mall. That is a promise.
This one is nice, but it looks like she is haunting some old hotel somewhere. Also, I promise you that she took off running toward something a split second after this was taken. Below, you will find a photo of her flailing on the ground. She had some pretty sweet poses in this sequence and some goofy ass faces. Unfortunately, as I mentioned, most of them were missed because the photographer was too concerned with yelling 'STINKY FEET!' and trying to get her to lay a certain way. C'mon lady.
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