sour puss

During Saturday's impromptu basement clean-up, I found another interesting item which I will now to share with you...

Because really, is there a better way to chase a tale of lusty lesbo lit than with a photo of myself at age 4? I think not.

Cute, right? I vividly remember sitting for this picture in Two Guys, a now-defunct retail store. The photographer really earned his money that day because I refused to smile. I wasn't deliberately being insolent or contrary. I just didn't find the situation entertaining enough to show my pearly whites.

It wasn't for lack of trying on the photographer's part though. The man danced and pranced around, sang, snapped his fingers, spoke in stupid voices, you name it. In other words, he made a real asshole of himself. And there I sat stone-faced. My poor mother tried everything but my lips wouldn't budge. The best the photographer could do was capture me in a state halfway between sullen and bored.

Some things never change.