Seriously, whose idea was it that authors need pics?
DO you really want to know what some unwashed laptop-potato looks like after a day of swearing at computers and/or small children and animals? No. I thought not.
Also, I am horrendously vain, and ugh. NO PICTURE WILL EVER SATISFY MY VANITY. But I needed a pic for the Apocalypsies blog, and since every pic with me in it I’m either drunkenly falling over a chair, drunkenly spilling my drink, drunkenly ashing my fag and missing the actual ashtray, or…well, you get the picture (AHA! A PUN!) So yeah, I couldn’t exactly send one of those.
So I needed to take one. And yeah. First off, I couldn’t find a hairbrush (still gone, and since I never brush my hair I don’t worry about that normally, but now that I think about it, it may explain why my children have weird blonde birds’ nests on their heads instead of, you know, actual hair.) Then I couldn’t decide on an appropriate expression.
I tried looking all suitably gloomy and goffic, but just looked moronic. Then I tried smiling, and my webcam had a seizure and my computer crashed. So much for that.
Finally, I settled on an eyeroll at the pointlessness of my endeavor, and that, my friends, is what I stuck with.
And in honour of Movember I grew a Dali, and yes, that is completely real. Not bad, eh?