'Picture' Perfect? Not quite!

A picture speaks a thousand words, someone said.

I’ll say it does two thousand! Phew!

There are two kinds of people in this world – those who like to splash their vacation pictures all over the sun and moon, and gush on and on in that nauseating monotone about the verdant mountains / scenic beach they visited for summer. Not to mention the cute ‘friend’ they hooked up with.

And those pesky sorts who will corner you over the phone, over social networking sites, at the gym, in the mall, at the neighborhood bistro, hell - right at your work desk, and demand to know (in that hugely-annoying sing-song falsetto) why you still haven’t mailed/ posted the url of the pics you took while you were on vacay.

Of course, there is a third set of people – which includes me.

Those who don’t care a rat’s ass about showing pics of their holiday snaps to people who for brevity’s sake, we’ll term somewhere between strangers and acquaintances.

And who are equally indifferent about being made to see yet another carefully-maintained album of some poor joker’s last trip to Waikiki. Frankly, I care two hoots about hearing some bozo’s account of how much fun they had on the sun-kissed beaches, languorous breakfasts overlooking the ocean and all, while I was working my rear off at the workplace. Doing my job. And probably his too!

My eyes glaze, my auditory senses take a backseat, and I wait impatiently for him to rattle off his rehearsed script.

And nope, the trinkets you bought at the flea market don’t exactly fascinate me. Those orange flip-flops are hideous, that floral dress would probably look better on a dead Jersey cow, those Chanel sunglasses scream ‘FAKE’ from a mile away, you were ripped by that ‘local’ who passed off a cheap bottle of port wine to you as Pinot Noir, you paid way too much for that straw hat (and to top it – it’s not exactly your color), and those beads – who do you think you are - a Zulu tribesman?

And please don’t bore me to death by showing me yet another ‘angle’ your ‘super-genius’ younger sibling took of you throwing pebbles like a retard into the rippling pool. He / she undoubtedly deserves a worthy mention in the Mensa International.

Good for him / her. Just spare me the details!

I also do not want to know about the glorious weather you enjoyed and how deep your lady luck runs, since the weather Gods were kind upon you, and rains did not disrupt all the canoodling you had planned.

I don't mind a couple of lines, or max, a paragraph, but Gawd - don't take my polite nodding as signs of encouragement to tell me about the coconut you kept in your room as a lucky charm!!! I'd appreciate brevity, not a full blow-by-blow account of those two wonderful weeks. Frankly, you'll either leave me gagging or frothing at the mouth. And believe me when I say I don't look appealing either way...

The only pictures I like to see are those of dogs, not because I am one myself (ahem ahem), but ‘cos I love them. Don’t make an exception to this rule and try to sneak upon me some pictures of friends / cousins / kids, because if you ask me how they look, you’d better be prepared to hear my no-holds-barred chili-laced commentary.

You shouldn't even get me started on the pictures of the red-eyed retards, asses hanging out of their pyjamas, groping hands at all the wrong places, puking all the cheap alcohol they had managed to lay their paws on. I’m a democrat – so let me tell you that there are three places for such snaps –
the fireplace,
the deep sea,
or
six feet under the ground.

The same goes for pictures of men lying half-naked in hammocks, scratching their you-know-what beneath those red Santa knickers. George Clooney can’t carry off that look, pecs notwithstanding. What makes you think you can?

And since we are on the subject – perhaps it would be best to altogether skip that pic of the ten of you eyeing the complimentary buffet like a pack of hungry wolves.

Numerous interactions with people like the ones have wisened me, and now instead of an open, ‘Hey, how was your vacay,’ I leave nothing to chance, and instead put a closed ‘Bet your vacay was fun, eh!’ When the intended recipient of the question nods or replies with a ‘Yes,’ or a ‘you betcha!’ I give a high-five or slap him on the back, and move on with an enthusiastic ‘Way to Go, man!’

My ears don’t hurt, and he gets a nice sorta feeling at being asked...

Works all the time...

Go on - try it. You can't go wrong with that one.

And remember, you heard it here!