I bet you think this song is about you...

ahh... Carly Simon.... the quintessential song to accompany my sinister self portrait series. Too bad I wasn't listening to any music.

Anyhow, I just thought I'd post my procrastination attempts from last night. The dog in her exuberance to be let inside the house very nearly attacked me. She did manage however to scratch my hand with her claws and guage my hand with her razor sharp rabid teeth... and get get mud on my pants and coat when she successfully bodychecked me into the gate.

Those who know me well know that I don't have a good track record with dogs. Several times while delivering the only paper that gives a tinker's damn about the North Peace I came across rather vicious dogs that were menaces to society. On one occassion I refused to deliver papers to the side of the street with one dog, two days later the dog bit my older sister's hand. Another time when I stopped delivering to this one house with a small dog who would come running so it could launch itself off the top step in order to align itself with the throat of a child approximately my height, the dog attacked my younger sister shortly after. And let's not forget the three police dogs who lived next door (okay, they weren't police dogs, but they were trained by a police officer who had to build up the fence so his attack dogs wouldn't escape vicious brutes that they (the dogs) were). These particular dogs chased me down the driveway while I was on my way to dance class. I was wearing this cute little outfit, yellow and white striped shorts and a coordinating top, that my mother told me not to wear. As I was rushing away from the vicious attack dogs (walking not running), I slipped and fell on the curb and removed a huge chunk of flesh from my knee. I made it to the end of the block (a few houses away from where I'm housesitting right now) and then I made the mistake to look down to my knee where I saw the blood pouring down my leg. So I walked around the corner and went back home, where I had the arduous task of removing the bits of gravel and dirt from my deep wound. This particular incident left a rather huge scar on my knee (back then it covered about 1/4 of my knee cap). The scar has since reduced in size, but it is still visible. It was a grotch in the truest sense of the term.

Now who would have ever thought that I would end up talking about my horrible track record with dogs in this blog post? After all I started out with my self portrait picture pile that I created in photoshop and picasa. But it was the damn dog that prompted it all in the first place. Her premediated attack on me left me shaken and sullen, and I needed a little photography therapy to soothe my frazzled nerves. Anyhow, click on the picture to see it posted in my flickr photostream. Some fellow says that I should smile more. Funny, that's what folks used to say when I was working as a cake decorator at the ol DQ.

anyhow, there is a faint smell of poo in the air... which means that the child is in need of a diaper change. After that it's serious schoolwork for me.