I'm no photographer but I can picture us together.
Hi, I'm a fashion photographer. Would you like to be in my next photo shoot?
A Comedy of Errors
After Mrs. Grandapple found out her husband was sterile, the couple decided to hire a proxy father...
After Mrs. Grandapple found out her husband was sterile, the couple decided to hire a proxy father to start their family. On the day the proxy father was to arrive, Mr. Grandapple kissed his wife and said 'I'm off to work, Lydia. The guy should be here soon.'
Wouldn't you know it, a door-to-door baby photographer came by half an hour later, hoping to make a sale. Mrs. Grandapple answered the door. 'Good morning, ma'am. You don't know me, but I've come to...'
'Oh yes, I know why you're here. Harry told me you'd be coming soon.'
'He did? But I...' 'Come right in! No use wasting time .'
'Very well, then.'
The photographer took out his briefcase and sat down. 'As you may already know, I've made a specialty of babies.'
'Good, I'm glad,' said Mrs. Grandapple. 'That's just what Harry and I were looking for.'
'I usually like to try two in the bathtub, one on the couch and perhaps a couple on the bed,' said the photographer. 'The living room floor is fun too...you can really spread out.' 'Bathtub? Living room floor? No wonder it never worked for Harry and me.'
'Well, ma'am, none of us can guarantee a perfect one every time, but if we try several different positions and I shoot from six or seven different angles, I think you'll be quite pleased with the results.'
'I certainly hope we can get this over with quickly,' Mrs. Grandapple gasped nervously.
'Ma'am, in my line of work a man must take his time. I'd like to be in and out in five minutes, but you'd be disappointed with that, I'm sure.'
'Don't I know!' breathed Mrs. Grandapple.
The photographer pulled out a portfolio of his pictures. 'This one was done on top of a bus in downtown London,' he said, showing Mrs. Grandapple the picture
'Oh my God!' exclaimed Mrs. Grandapple, tugging on her handkerchief.
'And these twins turned out exceptionally well when you consider the fact that their mother was so difficult to work with.' He showed Mrs. Grandapple another picture. 'She was difficult?' questioned Mrs. Grandapple.
'Extremely,' said the photographer. 'I finally had to take her to Hyde Park to get the job done right. People were crowding around, four and five deep, just to get a good look.'
'Four and five deep!' Mrs. Grandapple was amazed.
'Yes,' said the photographer. 'And for more than three hours, too. The mother was constantly squealing and yelling. I could hardly concentrate. Then, it started getting dark and I had to rush my shots. Finally, when the squirrels started nibbling on my equipment. I just packed it all in.'
Mrs. Grandapple leaned forward. 'You mean the squirrels actually CHEWED on your, um...equipment?'
'Yes, ma'am. Thank God, no real damage was done. Well, we'll get to work as soon as I set up my tripod.'
'TRIPOD? ' Mrs. Grandapple looked extremely worried now.
'Of course. I need to use a tripod to rest my Canon on. It's much too big for me to hold while I'm getting ready for action. Ma'am...ma'am? Good God, she's fainted!'
I'm no photographer, but I can picture us together.
Who On Earth Are You, Then?
A photographer from a well know national magazine was assigned to cover the fires at Yellowstone National Park. The magazine wanted to show the heroic work of the fire fighters as they battled the blaze.
When the photographer arrived, he realized that the smoke was so thick that it would seriously impede or make it impossible for him to photograph anything from ground level.
He requested permission to rent a plane and take photos from the air. His request was approved and arrangements were made. He was told to report to a nearby airport where a plane would be waiting for him.
He arrived at the airport and saw a plane warming up near the gate. He jumped in with his bag and shouted, "Let's go!" The pilot swung the little plane into the wind, and within minutes they were in the air.
The photographer said, "Fly over the park and make two or three low passes so I can take some pictures."
"Why?" asked the pilot. "Because I am a photographer," he responded, "and photographers take photographs."
The pilot was silent for a moment; finally he stammered, "You mean you're not the flight instructor?"