That one looks off. You're finding photo's to stick Jessi in? I don't see how I was being rude, I thought I was just making a valid comparison. Very few if any topics get posted in. And it's mostly by the same people. Which is how it was before you decided to close down CG.
It's not the background that looks off that looks fine. It's just that side profile of Jessi looks weird.
The biggest crouton I ever saw was this big. It took 3 guys to lift. So if you and your friend wanted to lift this crouton, you’d still need another guy. That’s how big the crouton was. The guy who owned it kept it in his shed, wrapped in velvet. And if you wanted to see it, he’d take you there, but it’d cost you 15 dollars in cash, up front. And you had to be drunk. Drunk so you wouldn’t know where he kept the crouton. They called him Old Daryll. Even though he was only 18 years old. It’s one of those names folks hoped he’d grow into. Sorta like, uh, Hank, y’know? And Old Daryll loved his crouton so much, that it worried his girlfriend. Hazel. A name that no one ever grows into. And one day she said: “You know, Old Daryll, I think you love that old crouton more than me!” Well, “There’s the door,” he said. And with that, he motioned at a large hole in the wall where he intended to build a door into as soon as he had some tools. So, the fight ended with a compromise: He decided to buy her a humidifier. And as fate would have it, as they were out that night, Some kids, kids I guess about… about your ages. Your sizes, smells, uh, hair color and ethnocentric background. Were out in the midst of a.. Rango Tango Devil-May-Care Spree, They happened upon the shack! They broke right in. They claimed they were looking for Mother’s day gifts. But I don’t believe that. Because as soon as they say that crouton, they had their little swiss army knives poised. And started hacking away at that beautiful crouton! Just to garnish their… selfish salads. And then they s-skedaddled. As mysteriously as they came. They were kids a lot like you. And by the time Old Daryll came home with the humidifier under his right arm, That crouton once mighty and towering... Was not the size of, say, a Rubik’s cube. And if you had been there, the middle of that Monday night, you might have hear the sound of… Cryin’. Male cryin’. The rarest kind. Nowadays, Old Daryll, well, he looks his name. ‘Cuz people don’t come to see that crouton no more. Just teenage girls who want to use it for earrings. And when he and his woman aren’t buying lottery tickets… He’s out lookin’ at that shack. Just remembering.
