Here is a little known fact about me: I am very particular and territorial when it comes to things. Like, all things. Here is a story about that.
Back when Henry moved in with me, I think this was 2002 or some other ridiculously depressing long time ago, he decided to come home one day with a new cordless phone. After he took it out of the bag and ran his hand along the box while going through the exhaustive list its merits, I very calmly (read: screaming with a blown top and smoking ears) asked him to return it.
“Why?” he asked dumbly, which is how he asks all of his questions.
“I’m sure this phone is a real diamond in the technological rough, but I was not consulted before this purchase, therefore I must calmly and maturely ask you to remove it from my house.”
Of course, Henry threw one of his tantrums and chucked a catalog at my face, demanding that I pick out one myself.
So I did.
And it was pink.
And it had “princess” in its model name.
And it was made by Disney.
And it practically incinerated the shit out of the box it came in, what with all the scintillating it was made to do.
And it came programmed with a variety of classic Disney songs to use as ring tones.
I hated the shit out of it, but the fact that I was able to capture images like this one made it all worthwhile.