The more I looked at this pic, the more I realized it's seriously mockable. In so many ways. So, on that note, I give you commentary from me and mah guest star KD!
First, my thoughts on this picture. I actually had these as I was proofing the page of group pics. Almost took the picture out. Didn't. This is my compromise.
You know, this picture somehow works. I looked, I thought 'guh, hot, cute' and I saved it. It's cohesive--the overall look is pretty good, but as you look at the individual parts...
Joey: pretty cute, yeah? Big, sexy, slightly menacing. But dude, what is up with that shoulder pad? Joey has big shoulders. He does. But this ain't those. This is 80's shoulder pad kind of bad! Zoot suit bad.
JC: Kind of hot, doing the fist thing. We like the fist and growly thing. But man, his teeth--like something you'd wear at Halloween, to complete that Alfalfa costume.
Lance: Lance is just timid. Timid and not fooling us at all with that fist out thing. He's not angry. He's not menacing. He's lame.
Justin: Great hair, but um, is he constipated? I'm sorry, but I fear he is. That grimace, those ineffectual fists. And what's wrong with his pants? They're just not the right size--he has no crotch, just a slightly wrinkled expanse of glittery slacks.
Chris: You can always count on Chris for the great glare, you know? But apparently not this time. He's got the goofy 'like me' grin here. And his jacket--he's a hunched little troll. These are not action jackets. They were not made for whatever reaching and Lance-gropage he's engaging in!
Verdict: not. hot. Not hot at all. This makes me sad.
And here's [KD's] take on the glitter picture I tore apart earlier. We had this talk while I was sharing the pain of the bad picture, and it just cracked mah azz up!
Photographer: "Guys, guys. I said *anger*. What the hell are you doing? Ambiguous sexual tease??? No no no no. ANGER! Oh, God, that's awful. Kirkpatrick-- I said anger, not homeless troll. Okay, let's try this. You're in a sleazy bar, right? Your bodyguards have been kidnapped by mysterious Middle Eastern pressure groups. You're all alone. Suddenly, up walks a gang of huge mofos in leather and dirty denim. And they say..."
Large Leather-Clad Bikers: "We're going to strap your pansy asses to the backs of our hogs and take you on a roadtrip to Macon, boys."
Joey: "What. Ever. Man, I wonder if the bar has nachos. Mmm. Nachos. Hey. Is that guy moving towards me? He'll stop once he figures out how huge I am. That's right, cocksucker. You just pretend to check out the draft beer choices. Shyeah! God, I hope JC doesn't actually hit anyone, cause I'd have to wade in and fix things, and... hello there, babe at three o'clock. Gotta go, Jayce. Stay cool."
JC: "Step off, motherfuckers! Sure, you're in leather, but I got my *boys* here, my posse. We'll kick your asses! Bring it ON! *hey, you got my back, right Joe?* BRING IT ON! That's right, freaker! Bring it!"
Lance: "Angry. Right. Okay. Does this look menacing? How about this? Oh, sorry! Let me try something else. Okay. This is me being angry. Grrr. I'm a tiger. Grrrr. Yeah."
Justin: "Come on, motherfuckers! Bring the heat! You'll never touch me! and I'm armed with dangerous ghetto jewelry that could leave scars! But could you hurry up, yo? 'Cause I really gotta go."
Chris: "Haha! Man, I thought this bar was going to be boring. Hey, hey, leather boy! You're gay! You take it up the ass! That's right, motherfucker, I'm talking to you! Hey, hey, you know who else takes it up the ass? This guy right here. You could *bond*."
and then Chris runs off to play air hockey in the corner. and eventually Joey looks up from the babe's boobs long enough to rescue Lance. And JC is still prancing around with his fists up. And Justin is checking out his reflection in the mirror over the bar.
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