Greg called in sick to his blog today. He’s pretty much already in bed for the night and blowing off this post. So, in lieu of Greg’s usual wit, enjoy some photos straight out of his scrapbook album he made with some childhood photos. You’re welcome.
Just me and a bearskin rug. Sassy . . . but tastefully done.
Um . . . not much of a cat guy, thanks. Nice kitty.
There we go. Much better.
I’m not sure which is worse: Shelly’s hat or my drool stains. I do have a pretty content look here, though. Just get me some nachos and find the remote. The game’s on. (Cousin Shelly, Spring ’69)
Always the ladies’ man. (Cousin Tanya, Summer ’68)
In an early demonstration of my tragic lack of coordination, I lost a tooth on the front steps. It must have been a well-placed shot. It not only knocked out the baby tooth, but I still have the chip it left in the grown-up tooth underneath.
Damn, I was a cute kid. I mean, look at that.
Okay . . . I’m rethinking that cute kid thing. This is bad.
This is it. This may just be the best shot in this album. The shoes. The pants. The jacket. The pose. And the best haircut Tupperware® has to offer. It’s all good. 1971
Jump! Jump! (Greg and Christine, 1974)
Oh my God, what the hell happened here? Was this the best shot they could get? And where was Mom to help straighten things out? She must have been combing Christine’s hair. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine.