The family portrait.

{In casual conversation, I recently stumbled upon this gem from my past...all events are TRUE, because I am/was this oblivious.}

Blog world, I did something REALLY stupid in college.

No, I'm not talking about the time I broke my finger TEACHING aerobics.  Or the time I neglected to close the lid on the tanning bed (to be fair, it wasn't a part of the instructions I was given).  Or the time I decided to take Russian as my foreign language because it sounded smart and college-like.

Thing is, I didn't realize this was so DUMB until two weeks ago.  When I was casually re-telling my husband the tale of the "Family Portrait". 

So.

I went to college at DePauw University in Greencastle, Indiana--an hour outside of Indianapolis.  SMALL school in a SMALL town.  NOT urban, NOT bustling.  We're talking about, maybe, 5 restaurants, if you don't include the truck stop 10 miles away.  Even though that truck stop was awesome.

At the start of our sophomore year, my friend Ort entered a drawing at the local ice cream shack, Dairy Castle.  Like Dairy Queen but CHEAP and more dilapidated-like.  But freaking awesome, btw, and across from the liquor store conveniently called "The Crotch" because it sat at the interesection of two roads.  To this day, I really couldn't tell you if that was it's real name, but I do know that Ice House kegs were always $39.99.  It probably should have been called the "Crotch Castle" because we certainly had a knack for tacking that -castle onto everything.  And "The Crotch Castle" is an amazing name, RIGHT?

I digress.

Dairy Castle.  Free Drawing.  For a FAMILY PORTRAIT.

She won.

And a few weeks later, after a day of classes, 7 (or maybe 8?) of us got dressed up in khakis and set out to have our portraits taken. 

Here's where it gets weird. 

The photos were taken at the "College Castle" which is a shady, roach motel approximately .3 miles from our sorority house.  Very, VERY similar to the horror show on/near the Nashville airport runway that Mike made me AND OUR CHILDREN sleep in last March.  I guess my standards were a *tad* lower in college, because this part of the story never seemed to bother me.

Until Mike pointed out with big, buggy, bulging eyes that we happened to have a photo shoot AT A GROSS MOTEL. 

Well, now that you mention it.....

I went on to explain how the photographer was a little strange, but totally legit, because he had this big backdrop set up and everything.

Mike asked if that backdrop was a headboard?

Ha. Ha. Ha.  No, it wasn't. 

He asked if there was a window-less van in the parking lot?

Hell if I know, or if I was EVER that observant in college.  It's totally possible I was drunk, I just can't remember.  Drunkeness was the reason for a great majority of my stupidity in college. 

Thing is, NONE of us thought it was strange that we were having our pictures taken in a motel.  As evidence, I will note (as mentioned above) that we wore KHAKIS, which in 1995, was a dress choice of the most sophisticated and professional level.  We were ALL business.  Mike, however, believes that we were about to be sold into a prostitution/pornography, and the only reason we weren't thrown in a dark hole and asked to "put the lotion in the basket" is because there were 7 (or 8?) of us and Merv the Perv Serial Rapist couldn't possibly taser us/carry our limp bodies to his van without raising suspicion.  Had it been just three of us?  I'm pretty sure I might be doing Dallas right now. 

And end scene.

{Sidenote:  Please explain, at length, to your daughters, that it is NEVER OKAY to have your pictures taken by a stranger in a seedy motel.  You *might* think this is self explanatory.  It is (cough) obviously not. }