Last weekend I went to the beach on Toronto Island with my brother where we learnt, amongst other things, that I am a wholly disastrous and disconcerting frisbee player.
But in relevant news, my brother is a photographer and he brought out the camera and coerced me into getting all pose-y in public which was a likely contributor to the heightened level of awkwardness which did ensue between myself and passing members of said public.
Result? The successful capturing of my welding-appropriate sunglasses, my sports-bra-turned-top which I purchased at Victoria's Secret instead of a pair of frilly underwear (substantiating my running hypothesis regarding the masculine leanings of my wardrobe preferences) and last and hopefully least, the freezing in time of my right arm in the ideal head scratching position. EN-joy.