There isn't enough mind bleach in the world...
Last time Mother Vorlon came to visit me, she bought along her newfangled digital camera in order to show me the pictures of her and my Dad's recent holiday (she hasn't yet mastered the technology to the extent that she can upload and email her pics). Anyway, fed up at her holding the camera at an angle where I couldn't see the screen and scrolling through the images at the pace of an arthritic tortoise, I grabbed the thing and started to flick though myself.

"No! Stop!" she cries.

"Eh, what?" quoth I, confusedly. At which point she uttered the words that will be forever seared into my synapses:

"There's some pictures your Dad took on there, of, um... me...." *meaningful look*

So I did what any mature adult would do in my position. I hurled the camera into the depths of the sofa, clamped my hands over my ears and let out a scream like that of a traumatized manatee. (Actually, i have no idea what that sounds like, so maybe I didn't.) A minute later, when I could bring myself to look at the foul slattern again, she had a strange expression on her face. She looked... offended...

"They're not that bad, " she said, "I've lost weight."

Cue repeat hands/ears/screaming drill.

No apologies for length, my Dad wasn't in the pictures. Well she didn't say he was. God, I hope he wasn't... burning pain in brain... aaaargh!
(Vorlon, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 13:12, Reply)