Birds | Quirky Chrissy

After last night’s engagement photo shoot, I realized to my great dismay that I am not a photographer. I know this may surprise you, what with my killer Snapchat history, but it’s true. Our photographer, Joy, was perfectly lovely, and spoke of cameras and lenses the way Brian speaks of computery programmery things…or the way I speak of cheese. Using a language specific to the passion.

Despite my lack of skills, I thought I’d share some of my finer moments of photography.

What’s on my phone?

We’ll start with my ability to capture moving subjects. Drunk girls can’t sit still, apparently.

Erma Bombeck and awesome writers including Gina Barecca

Sometimes, I take fuzzy selfies with my writer friends posing with Gina Barecca – who’s awesome.

I really enjoy capturing random subjects. Like dinosaur meeples from board games.

Like when I take photos of dinosaurs to send my friend, Smash…and then I never send them.

Other times, I pretend I’m an archictural photographer and snap shots of buildings in the city.

And then, when I’m in Florida, I think I’m a nature photographer. Look out, National Geographic. I’m coming for you.

But, when it comes to the things I love…I think I’ve got this photo thing down.

I’m a foodtographer.

And a cheesetographer.

And a Briantographer.

And a yogatographer.

And a selfietographer. Of course.

I guess we’re all photographers in our own right…but I’ll leave the big stuff to the professionals.

What are some of your favorite photos in your phone?

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The Dolphin

For some reason, there are random dolphin statues all over Marco Island. Last year, I got drunk on fruity cocktails, and hugged this guy:

This year was no different.

Of course, a lot more than drunken dolphin hugging happened…

I Hate TSA

If you remember from our trip to Disney World last September, with the drama of the skunk (actually, go read that. Right. Fucking. Now. Because it’s an awesome story. I’ll wait.) I have a packing problem. Not that I pack too much, but that it takes me a really fucking long time to pack things properly…And then TSA fucks it all up. So after I spent hours packing for Marco, I wrote TSA a little note.

And you’ll never guess whose suitcase they checked this time…Brian’s! I think that they opened mine, and though Fuck That…we’ll open the other one. SUCCESS!

The Injuries

It wouldn’t be a Chrissy trip if injuries weren’t involved. Yes, I managed to carve several gashes into both of my feet, slit my wrist, slice up my hand, burn random designs into my body, and die of dysentery a la The Oregon Trail because I couldn’t carry the whole buffalo back to my covered wagon. OK, maybe not that last one. But I did tame a giant albino boa constrictor with my bare hands. (That one may be a bit of an exaggeration.)

OK, so the gashes (at least 5 in each foot) may or may not have come from the beachy shells stuck in my pink Walmart water shoes that have braved rivers, lakes, and oceans…Apparently when you let the ocean wash into your shoes, you shouldn’t walk like 5 miles in them. Just a word of advice…

Ignore the Polish cankles and the Flintstoes (Flintstone toes) for just a minute to admire the colorful bandaids…More cuts ensued…It was not fun.

And the slicing up of my hand…Apparently you shouldn’t put your hand under water in the ocean feeling around for shells. One just might bite you. Or three…

Slitting my wrist? I think that wine glass tried to kill me! I was drying the wine glasses when I must have been drying a little too hard. The next thing I know, I’ve got a stem in one hand and a foot in the other…and the wrist near the foot of the glass is gushing blood from the broken stem jabbing mighty hard into my wrist.

I had a picture of the cut itself, which is ugly as fuck, but I decided not to do that to you guys. Do you like my Mickey band-aids?

This is how to properly burn one’s self in the most random designs imaginable. Let the water of the ocean rush all up in your leg business and forget to reapply the sunscreen.

Braving the “Wild” Animals in the Everglades (ish)

I was bullied. Seriously bullied into a snake around my neck. And an alligator in my hands. You can see the fear in my eyes.

Wild animals at skunk ape research facility

He protects me from beasts.

I was bullied into wearing this snake like a scarf. Brian kept saying they felt like good boots.

He liked me…

In Which I Said “Hi” From the Beach During My Sand Dollar Hunt

I had been out since 7 AM (sunrise), but I took a break from sand dollar hunting to say hello to my blog friends! Also, I feel goofy on video.

In total, I found about 50 sand dollars that I brought home with me. Some cracked along the way, but holy crap. They call it sand dollar spit for a reason.