Suggested poses for a photobooth rental

SUGGESTED POSES
FOR PHOTO-BOOTH
PICTURES.

BY TED TRAVELSTEAD and his web site:

(a) Big ol’ cheesy smile

(b) “I am not a crook” face with double peace sign

(c) Doin’ the funky chicken

– – – –

(a) Sticking tongue out

(b) Wearing fuzzy top hat, giving thumbs-up

(c) Showing off your rare fourth nipple

– – – –

(a) Hands on pretend steering wheel

(b) Cheerfully letting in a pretend hitchhiker

(c) Being held at pretend knifepoint while not pretending to soil yourself

– – – –

(a) “May I take your order?” with imaginary pad and pen in hand

(b) Preparing an imaginary tableside Caesar salad

(c) Performing the Heimlich on an imaginary portly hedge-fund manager

– – – –

(a) Naked and covered in fudge

(b) Bewildered by flash, naked, and covered in fudge

(c) Tongue-bathing self in a panic after waking up from self-hypnosis tape

– – – –

(a) Showing off your stylish summer cape with a flourish

(b) You, a fashionable blurry twirling dervish

(c) Wiping your breakfast off wall with summer cape

– – – –

(a) Cowboy hat, hands on pretend gun belt showdown-style

(b) A tip of the hat to the pretty ladies as they stroll past the saloon

(c) Cutting open and crawling inside your dead horse to avoid freezing to death in the icy blasts of 40-below gale-force prairie winds

– – – –

(a) Arm in arm, with your fiancée, as she holds up her new engagement ring

(b) Bickering politely over what the next pose should be

(c) Peeking from the closet at your wife of many years, who smiles through tear-filled eyes as she desperately tries to please you by “gettin’ it on” with your burly neighbor, Kurtis

– – – –

(a) Peacocking for the paparazzi on the red carpet at the premiere of your cinematic masterpiece

(b) Smoking a cigarette nonchalantly by the pool while half-listening to an eager interviewer

(c) Sweating profusely, cheap black hair dye running from your graying temples, as you desperately plead for a walk-on role in a C-movie about a ghost clown so you can afford one more week in a seedy North Hollywood motel

– – – –

(a) You are a child again, running free in a field of swaying grass, not a care in the world

(b) Cradling a huge and garishly colored snow cone at the neighborhood pool’s snack bar, your tongue a multiflavored rainbow-hued palette

(c) Clutching your aching stomach and flipping the light switch on and off continuously while trying not to think of your parents’ impending divorce

– – – –

(a) Standing on the pitcher’s mound, glove and ball to chest, coolly staring down the league’s MVP

(b) Riding high, on the shoulders of your teammates, after pitching your third no-hitter

(c) Sitting next to your walker, under a state-fair tent, shoulder throbbing like the dickens, signing “souvenir game balls” for $4 a pop

– – – –

(a) Sword held high, standing your ground against a ferocious lava-drooling dragon

(b) Hoisting the dragon’s head triumphantly skyward, as the just-saved princess clutches your armor-clad legs

(c) Shaking the family dachshund upside down so it doesn’t choke on your 12-sided die that it just gobbled up

– – – –

(a) Fedora cocked rakishly, .38 snubnose under your coat, you lean back in your desk chair as the femme fatale’s shadow falls across the frosted glass of your office door

(b) You pour her a shot of rye to soothe her frayed nerves, and top off your third double of the day, as she dishes out her tale of woe

(c) “It’s not fair!” you cry out in a high-pitched voice as the judge sentences you to a six-month stint for unlawful possession of a firearm and impersonating an officer of the law

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