won’t fill you up.
Ianderthal
My name is Ian. If you must know something about me, I have the face of an angel, dance like the devil and will tower over you like a mountain. Some have dared to call me by my whole first name, though local authorities are still baffled about their whereabouts.fancy a gander at my portfolio?
Nov 12, 2008
Nov 9, 2008
Nov 7, 2008
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Nov 11, 2008
Nov 10, 2008
“They could charm the paint off walls, these fellas.”
I have this habit. Though it isn’t particularly unhealthy or harmful, I’ve slowly picked it up over the years. Sometimes I do it and don’t realize it.
I check myself out in the mirror. A lot.
Not just right before I head out the door. Anything reflective will do. A newly washed car. The sliding doors in an elevator. Spoons. Your eyeballs. The frequency is so outrageous that Carly Simon must have seen me coming 30 years early.
And I know what you’re going to tell me. “Ian, if i were as roguishly handsome as you, I’d do the same, you scoundrel!” Outlandish and utterly fictional statements aside, you are judged on how you look. Applying this mentality to photographs, attempting to perfect your pictures can go horribly awry.
Brighten up the teeth, sure. Mask out some hair, understandable. Getting rid of some underarm flub, no problem. Just make everyone keeps their limbs.
Please, photoshop responsibly.
Check out more bone-headed blunders at Photoshop Disasters.
View →I usually don’t recall my dreams - with the exception of last night’s.
Trees aflame, children crying, the skies a red delight.
An ugly monster, eight feet tall, plucked me where I cowered.
His saliva, hot as candle wax, strew about and showered.
Then as my soul departed to end my earthly play,
he held me close and whispered,
“Have a bandit day.”
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