Thankfully I don’t have this problem at family gatherings, as none of us are that into prserving family get-togethers for posterity. But I do get the “Smile, things can’t be that bad!” from people all the time. My natural expression, even when I’m in a good mood, gives people the impression that I’m looking for puppies to kick. I was once walking down the Strip in Vegas at something like one-thirty in the morning, going back to my hotel after getting out of a midnight topless show and having had a pretty good day at the slots, and a girl in a car pulling out of a parking lot yelled, “Smile! You’re in Vegas!”
Damn! You should have flashed that Lecter smile at Grandma and I bet she’d never ask you to “really” smile again!
My family suffers from a related affliction. At every single family gathering, my mom insists on posing the ENTIRE family for a series of family photos because, as she morbidly rationalizes, “this might be the last time we all get together”. We have about 2,300 photos spanning 20 years of “the last time we get together”.
Wang-Ka, that was great! I rarely laugh out loud at even very funny posts, but this one had me giggling throughout.
I wish I’d come up with a similar smile during my years as a Disaffected Youth. I was plagued by people trying to get me to smile, not merely for photo ops but in my ordinary life – while riding the bus, waiting in line at the laser tag arena, opening my locker, and so on.
It’s not like I went around scowling or refused to crack a grin when I was happy or amused. Yet somehow even strangers felt the need to tell me to “Smile, you’ll look so pretty!” How I would have loved to prove them wrong with a Sociopathic Smile of Doom!
You think that’s bad? My parents are professional photographers. I think I’ve spent about 1/3 of my life posing for pictures.
Oh, and you haven’t lived until you’ve had to stand akwardly with a prom date while your dad set up the backdrop, reflectors, and enough lights to light up a goddamn football stadium and then proceeded to “pose” you for a good hour.
On the other hand, I’ve got a lovely collection of professional portraits taken of me and every boyfriend I’ve ever had hanging prominently in my parents house, which makes for interesting “bring him home to meet the folks” experiences.
And you look like Hannibal Lecter in the picture. No wonder you only had to do it once.
My step-mom is an amateur photographer. She does some posed pictures, but my SIL asked her to take some pictures at her wedding.
They were mostly candid shots, very beautiful, like Grandma dancing with the 6-year-old ring bearer, the bride and groom sharing a quiet kiss at a deserted table, the groomsmen laughing a private joke.
Oh, c’mon. What could it hurt? I’m particularly interested to know if it was the first flaming rum drink that got you, or maybe number six or so. I’ve never had any kind of flaming drink, myself, having always labored under the impression that refreshing beverages should be icy cold. But I do have a (rather pitiful) 'stache, so let me know the worst that could happen should I ever succomb to temptation.
I’ll never understand the logic of “posing” for a camcorder. People do it all the freaking time at work and it drives me nuts. (Okay, luckily few people do it at my location, though there are plenty of hold-up-the-ride-while-you-photograph-your-family-sitting-in-it-even-though-you’ll-never-be-able-to-tell-where-you-are people). But hey, I’m sure the other 1800 people who are supposed to get on this ride this hour don’t mind you holding them up.
My dad and I are in total photographic opposition. He likes taking pictures of people in front of things. Me, I just like taking pictures of the thing itself. If I want a photo of people, it’ll be just that, a photo of people, framed properly and taken from the proper height to make the subjects look their best.
Even without people in the photo, we differ. In fact, I once won an argument with my dad about how best to frame a particular picture - we each took it our way, and after the pictures had been printed, well… let’s just say my dad doesn’t tell me how to take photos anymore… much.
By the way, hilarious OP.
I still haven’t figured out why we insist on photographing our Thanksgiving dinner. I suppose the photo of us around the table is necessary, but we actually photograph the table setting and the food before everyone sits down! And it’s not like we ever care about those pictures afterwards, but year after year, we take them!
I’m not entirely against posing, if it’s amusing or something. From morelin and I’s trip to Savannah, you’ll find numerous pictures of me directing cannon fire, looking like I’m going to pee on something. And I’ll take snapshots of interesting stuff. But it takes me a few seconds. I don’t want an elaborate pose. I just want the damn picture.
People kept BUYING them for me, and egging me on to DRINK them. Tricky, certainly, but not impossible. I did kind of wonder why complete strangers were buying me flaming rum drinks, but far be it from me to turn down a freebie.
Well, around the fourth one, I kind of overdid it, and wound up accidentally spilling a little. Interestingly enough, it soaked my beard, which did not burn, but the flames crisped my mustache and nose hairs. A wonder I didn’t inhale the flames and hurt myself.
Fortunately, by then I was drunk enough not to panic, and I simply reached over and picked up my Coca-Cola chaser and dumped it on my face, putting out the flames.
Got quite a round of applause.
It was only after that that someone told me you were supposed to blow out the flames before you drank the damn drink. Nobody had told ME that. Apparently, they didn’t know I didn’t know that, either, and people kept buying me the fraggin’ things to watch the daredevil up at the bar slam down a drink while it was still actually on fire…
Wow, thanks Wang-Ka, great story. I thought, from the context, that you must have been drinking the FRD while it was still ablaze. That sounded a bit strange to me, but I honestly didn’t know if it was SOP or not. Now, I know. Ignorance is defeated once again. I shall be prepared now should I ever be faced with a FRD, so that I will not end up de-faced by the experience.
Well, flaming shots didn’t bother me all that much, not after my stint as a carnival fire-eater… but when you’ve had too much to drink to be playin’ with fire…
Yeah, I flashed on that Far Side panel as well. But when you were working up to the payoff, I started thinking, “Here it comes…he’s gonna link to that guy from Aphex Twin.”
I think that would cure your grandma of her smile fixation once and for all.
Great post and the pic really put a nice finish on the whole thing. I laughed out loud.
I know exactly what you mean about the “fake smiles” often seen in photographs. I have been told to smile so often that I can even fake a real smile, just to make people leave me alone.
