Visitors

My dad's friend from somewhere,
A man, plus his daughter.
The daughter, about 13 or 14, nice, voice too high and sweet and cute for her but hey, she seemed like a nice person, very polite.
The man. Short, happy, a bit on the *acquired aesthetics* side. (Think of it as in, acquired taste.)
He has a thing with photography. And I don't know if they planned this or if he decided to bring his hobby with him, but after the protocol tour of our house and its exteriors (accompanied by fitting oohs and wows at a particular tree or perhaps the height of the ceiling of the living room).

So, he snaps cheerfully away at my younger sister with our cat, I dunno, sure, go ahead, I think, as I continue to live on the internet. (Blogs are so fun.)
And then they make me go into the living room, to take photos of ME. I don't know about you, but at the time, I felt a little bit too uncertain about where this was going to go. I don't like solo photos by other people when the other people aren't professionals. And this guy, well, he wasn't in a company shirt, nor did he have a name badge. It was just 'nameless guy with a face that certainly did not make me want to smile at the camera'.
I mean - if it was, say, a lovely plump old lady who resembled a bit of Mrs Weasley - well then I'd have certainly did my best to look nice. Except this guy was no Mrs Weasley. You have no idea how off-putting and creepy it felt, him, circling around as you sit there on the edge of the fireplace (I know how that sounds), and he tells you to put your head to the left and relax and look natural and then to stop leaning against the wall and smile and show some teeth and then to look happy and to do this and that and OMG I think, this guy is so not my best friend at the moment.
Especially with his face and voice, well I only felt like cracking his stupid camera lens.

Now - don't get me wrong. I like photos. If you know me, then you'll know I like to jump to the front of every group photo and strike a dramatic something or other. But this was not with friends, this was not mucking around on a digital, this was exploitation of innocence of a teenage ego.

So you ask me, why did I not crack his stupid camera lens?
Because my dad was sitting there and well my sister had already had some shots taken so what have me right to punch a parent's friend?
The worst part is -
After a final few family portraits, he says to my mum to not worry, he'll edit her wrinkles off.
EXCUSE ME?
I was so flipping flabbergasted: Should I have smiled, that he was so considerate to think of the wrinkles (which by the way are nice and motherly) or should I have frowned, that he just called my mum a wrinkled old prune?
No, I did not want pics of a 24-looking plastic for a mum.

Now, lemme see those pics.