Paul : Oh let's take a group picture.
Aaron : Oh no, I'm not ready. My hair is in a mess. I'm not dressed.
Paul : That would teach you not to go out looking like a rumpled hobo out of a dumpster.
Aaron : Don't tag me yeah.
Which has become almost his vaunted catch-phrase.
These days apart from the hipster millennial eschewing modernity by shunning the internet, even that reclusive mountain hermit probably has a Facebook account. Or a Twitter account. And that Instagram account. No doubt all perfectly curated to exhibit their best online presence for their selected audience.
Their best foot forward since God forbid someone actually catches them looking less than what they are supposed to be.
Which is why Ambiguous Aaron religious untags himself from photos he finds himself looking so much less than presentable. Unsurprisingly often though since he strangely adopts a sloppy hobo beachwear look whenever we all have dinners out. Really boggles my mind sometimes since why would you knowingly want to look terrible? Doesn't stop his need from wanting to eradicate the picture unsuitables that's just shy of fleek since everything else on his album is perfectly crafted to present a rigidly professional, suave appearance more suited for LinkedIn.
He's not the only culprit afraid of being caught out looking absolutely disastrous. That I can at least vaguely understand.
But these days I even have Miz Grundys who are afraid of having fun. Or at least terrified by the idea that someone out there might actually catch them in the unforgivable act of having a lil bit of fun.
Grundy : Not too many pictures yeah.
Paul : Afraid of overexposure?
Grundy : Not really. Just can't be having too much fun.
Paul : Too. Much. Fun.
Really. What is that? We're out having a civilized dinner. Not downing tequila shots and smoking marijuana at an underground midnight rave - which I would honestly rather be doing. Not my friends though. Apparently there are freakish oddities who would prefer to be seen as desperately diligent drudges with their noses permanently stuck to the grindstone.
Or at least to have their Facebook appear that way.
Fuss much? Don't think I've ever put that much thought into what I'm placing up online. As long as I don't have disgusting crud hanging off my face, I'll post it up.
Aaron : Oh no, I'm not ready. My hair is in a mess. I'm not dressed.
Paul : That would teach you not to go out looking like a rumpled hobo out of a dumpster.
Aaron : Don't tag me yeah.
Which has become almost his vaunted catch-phrase.
These days apart from the hipster millennial eschewing modernity by shunning the internet, even that reclusive mountain hermit probably has a Facebook account. Or a Twitter account. And that Instagram account. No doubt all perfectly curated to exhibit their best online presence for their selected audience.
Their best foot forward since God forbid someone actually catches them looking less than what they are supposed to be.
Which is why Ambiguous Aaron religious untags himself from photos he finds himself looking so much less than presentable. Unsurprisingly often though since he strangely adopts a sloppy hobo beachwear look whenever we all have dinners out. Really boggles my mind sometimes since why would you knowingly want to look terrible? Doesn't stop his need from wanting to eradicate the picture unsuitables that's just shy of fleek since everything else on his album is perfectly crafted to present a rigidly professional, suave appearance more suited for LinkedIn.
 |
| Perfectly packaged for your consumption. |
He's not the only culprit afraid of being caught out looking absolutely disastrous. That I can at least vaguely understand.
But these days I even have Miz Grundys who are afraid of having fun. Or at least terrified by the idea that someone out there might actually catch them in the unforgivable act of having a lil bit of fun.
Grundy : Not too many pictures yeah.
Paul : Afraid of overexposure?
Grundy : Not really. Just can't be having too much fun.
Paul : Too. Much. Fun.
Really. What is that? We're out having a civilized dinner. Not downing tequila shots and smoking marijuana at an underground midnight rave - which I would honestly rather be doing. Not my friends though. Apparently there are freakish oddities who would prefer to be seen as desperately diligent drudges with their noses permanently stuck to the grindstone.
Or at least to have their Facebook appear that way.
Fuss much? Don't think I've ever put that much thought into what I'm placing up online. As long as I don't have disgusting crud hanging off my face, I'll post it up.
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