It would be awesome if you could give me three comments on what did and did not work. Feel free to point out as many grammatical mistakes as you like. JSK 9/21/10
Capturing the Moment
Sniper687: dude get the d40
Nikkor50: No
NIkkor50: That is like the entry version.
NIkkor50: I want something better.
Sniper687: whatev…
Nikkor50: Think I should get the D300 or the D500?
Sniper687: dude
Sniper687: i have no idea.
Sniper687: you were the yearbook photographer all these years uou choose
Funny thing about being a photographer: you don’t usually end up with a lot of pictures of yourself. It’s because when you pick up a camera, you’re always on the wrong side of the lens. After all, you’re the only one that knows about the rule of three or that with DSLRs you have to look through the viewfinder. You’re the only one that knows about F-stops—that you need more light when it’s dark. But somebody has to capture the moment, right?
Nikkor50: Yea…
Nikkor50: I mean, I like the D500, but don’t know if it is worth the extra $.
NIkkor50: You know?
Sniper687: right…
Sniper687: neway
Sniper687: you get every1 to sign your yearbk?
Sniper687: i need jess’s sig
Sniper687: i didnt see her today did you?
Nikkor50: Yea. I saw her in English.
Nikkor50: Dude, isn’t she in your math class?
Sniper687: oh ya
Sniper687: wierd
Sniper687: musta missed her
…
Nikkor50: So you figure out who won?
Sniper687: dude your an editor for the yrbk.
Sniper687: isnt tht something you should knwo?
Nikkor50: Nah… doesn’t work like that.
Sniper687: jess won
Nikkor50: Really?
Sniper687: oh big srprise
Sniper687: mr. yearbook photographer
Nikkor50: So?
Sniper687: she had like three pages of index
Sniper687: i only had 27 pics
We have this contest every year to see who can get the most pictures in the yearbook. Travis won our freshman year, but he had an unfair advantage—his sister was the yearbook editor.
Nikkor50: Stop complaining.
Nikkor50: I put you on the cover!
Sniper687: oh yea
Sniper687: hahahaahha
Sniper687: thanks!
Sniper687: I tried to get them to count that as five pictures
Sniper687: but ang and jess said no way
Nikkor50: kikiki
Sniper687: just ask her out man
Nikkor50: wtf?
Sniper687: dude
Sniper687: how do you explain 46 pictures?
Jessica Sunni Colon guffawed at me for the first time when she walked into Mrs. Charlotte’s 4th grade classroom. I was drawing a malaria-ridden dog with a broken neck while trying to draw a giraffe. She’d guffaw at me in 5th grade when I smashed my frontier cabin diorama on the ground after slipping on some ice, and in 7th grade when I got pantsed in gym by Luke Graton. But in 9th grade, we learned to guffaw together as we agreed to determine if the mystery substance in Introduction to Physical Science was salt or sugar less by scientific method than by gustatory guess and check. Her guffaw never changed. She still tosses her head back, her hair thick as angel hair pasta cascading over her twitching ears, her self-conscious hand shooting up to cover her crooked upper-left central incisor. But it changed a little for me—from a slightly grating cacophony of a two-year old banging on tympanis to the gentle pitter-patter of dandelion puffs tickling my ears.
Sniper687: ang only git 33
Angela was born for high school. In 7th grade she told us that she was going to join every club there was at Crestbrook High. She exaggerated. She only joined 26 of them. Her club pictures alone put her at 26.
Nikkor50: What about jack?
Sniper687: twenty somethign
Nikkor50: that’s iT?
You could’ve probably send Jack’s Varsity jacket to Iraq for them to use as a flak jacket. He had so many pins and letters that needed to be sewn on; he needed a second one. He had at least thirty pictures in the sports section alone.
Sniper687: noone got evn close
Nikkor50: Jack only got twenty-something?
He needed to order a second Varsity jacket.
Sniper687: THATS WHAT IM SAYING!!!!!!
Sniper687: anyway
Sniper687: we’re trying to think of place to eat
Sniper687: momos or that new place on 41?
Sniper687: waddya think?
Nikkor50: Applebee’s?
Applebee’s is where we go at 11PM.
They have this phony marketing ploy in which they plaster their walls with memorabilia and pictures from the local high schools. Each school gets a little section of wall. The other high school in town is right by the door. They have this huge mural of their soccer team plastered there so that from a distance it looks like number 8 is ramming his cleat down the mouth of the unfortunate patron who unassumingly sits in the second booth from the door eating his hamburger or whatever. The local Catholic school probably has the best section of the restaurant. They have the corner with the wrap-around booth that has just enough space for nine people to squeeze into, rubbing elbows as they eat. But their school color is this macabre maroon that makes it look like the school-girl uniform tacked to the wall belonged to the girl that supplied the paint for the walls. Crestbrook High was relegated to the back corner behind the bar by the bathroom. We sit there every time. We are just there for the half-price appetizers anyway. We’ll take our licks for a $3 nacho grande—fake ground beef and all.
Sniper687: yo.
Sniper687: this isa graduation bonanaza!
Sniper687: we cant go to applebs!
Nikkor50: Sure we can.
That’s where we go.
Sniper687: dude you always suggest appleb
$3.50 Chicken Quesadillas…
Nikkor50: I love that place!
Because behind the life size picture of Sandy Oh and Derek Spekowitz, Homecoming King and Queen of 2008, in the panoramic shot of the only football game I went to my entire four years at Crestbridge High School, the one with all the cheerleaders standing out-of-uniform in the foreground like mannequins in a Macy’s Thanksgiving storefront, was the only picture I’d ever taken with her. Just a hair out of focus, but clear enough to make out her angel hair pasta locks cascading over her twitching ears, and her hand over her mouth… as if her crooked tooth was anything but beautiful.
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