I set up No. 1 daughter, Katrina, with her own computer, Lightroom 4 and Photoshop Elements 13.
The first thing she did was Photoshop my head onto Peter Griffin's body. That’s Peter Griffin, the Family Guy; heh, heh.
I walked her though how to do it, including using the magic wand to erase Peter’s head, and the clone tool to get rid of my hand resting on the tripod.
But the work was most definitely hers. And I realized she did turn me into a passable Family Guy.
All she needed was a giant chicken for me to fight. That’s next week’s lesson.
The ironic thing is the talking dog is named Brian. But he looks nothing like me. Peter does.
I had to think about that. I look like a morbidly obese cartoon character. My chin, or lack thereof, is even a close approximation. So is my gut hanging over the very necessary belt.
This is what my daughter sees of me. Not the pipeliner who had ABS, or the teenager who used to work out three times a week and bike 10 kilometres a day, fitting into 28-inch waist jeans.
She sees me, and I guess for most of her life has seen me, as an ever-increasingly rotund tub of lard.
Shut up, Meg, I mean, Katrina. (If you watch the show, you’ll get it.)
As it so happens, the day before this occurred, our production staff were updating the rate card for Pipeline News, putting all the pertinent information on it like what we charge for ads, what we’re going to focus on, and who to call.
This is where we include the mugshots, or floating heads, of those people. Jihyun asked me about replacing my floating head photo. She asked how old it was. She said I looked so young.
I was young, like 28-years-old young. I explained that was taken in North Battleford yet, probably in 2003. In other words, it’s about 14.5 years old. And I only had one chin then. Well, okay, 1.5 chins. But definitely a more oval than round face.
I suggested she go with a photo from 2014, because, hey, it’s sorta newer. And I’m wearing a hardhat in it. Columnists never age. They just don’t update their floating heads.
As I write this on January 4, ’tis the season for people to sign up for gym memberships based on New Year’s resolutions, then promptly begin never using said memberships.
Yeah, I won’t be one of them. I keep planning on buying a treadmill, but it hasn’t happened yet.
It’s partly my wife’s fault. She feeds me too well. I blame my mom as well. She taught me how to cook. If she had neglected that, perhaps I would be skinnier today.
In the news business, normal people tend to get intimidated by people with large cameras hanging around their necks, even if the camera-bearer is roly-poly.
Thus, I find it’s useful to open with a disarming, self-deprecating joke. In many cases, I’ll make some reference to me being fat and ugly. That’s usually good for a laugh.
But that’s kinda backfired recently, as our son, Spencer, has picked up on my joke and now occasionally refers to me as “Fattie.” He thinks it’s funny. My mother is appalled when she hears that, thinking it highly disrespectful.
So I tell him, “No, sir. That’s my joke, Spencer. I can make fun of me, you can’t. That’s disrespectful.”
We’re still working on that.
The reality is that “Fattie” is a.) funny, and b.) truthful. So you can’t fault the kid for lying, because he’s not.
In one episode from the fifth season of Family Guy, Peter describes himself with “bulging ripplyness” after one visit to the gym.
He was inspired to get in shape after losing a fight with an aquarium octopus. After giving himself a hernia trying to lift up Bill Clinton’s limo to repair a flat tire, he ends up in hospital, explaining what happened to his family.
“I thought I was just out of shape, but that’s not it at all. I’ve got to face the fact that, I’m just getting old,” he said.
Peter told Clinton, “I’m starting to realize I’m not as young as I used to be.”
Amen, brother.
