Welcome to What a Cutey!, my little self-serving web page all about me and how I'm such a Cutey. I came across these old photos of myself and I thought I might score some points with the ladies by digitizing them and putting them up for public viewing. Even if the ladies don't give a rat's ass, at least I have a chance to be narcissistic.

Well, anyway, each photo has a nice little blurb near it, explaining the photo or that particular time in my life and how cute I was. I hope you enjoy boosting my ego, and thanks for dropping by.

This is a photo of me sitting (somewhat) on my father's knee when I was one or two years old. Damn I was such a cutey! Look at that platinum blonde hair and those dreamy blue eyes. I was a total chick magnet - I had to beat them off with my rattle. I wish my hair was still that colour, although the cut leaves a little to be desired.

Freckles for days and my hair was still a decent shade of blonde. What a cutey with those irresistible blue eyes! There's nothing like a missing tooth to drive the ladies wild, and boy did I ever! I was their "Sugar Daddy," handing out sweets in exchange for a little "Action," usually involving Tag or Hopscotch.

A little older, a little wiser, but as cute as ever. You can see my keen fashion sense was evident even then, as I had brilliantly selected a shirt to match the background. Mind you, I had brought my wardrobe trailer for this photo shoot. The ladies had to watch out and take a step back, lest they fall under my spell - I was stylin' and nobody was gettin' in my way!

By the time I was nine, I was confident that I could rely on my cuteness to take me far in life, as evidenced by the photo on this page. Watch out folks, the photo on that page is a bit big and may take some time to fully enjoy.

By the time I was five or six, my parents realized the commercial value of my extreme cuteness and put me to work to earn my keep. I was, of course, incredibly successful in wielding my cuteness for commercial gains. This here's a photo my agent used to entice those ad agencies to make use of my services. What confidence, what poise! Those piercing baby blues! What a cutey!

I had reached the pinnacle of my career by age twelve, having done countless print ads, catalogs, commercials and other sundry duties. I grew weary of prostituting my cuteness for mere financial gains, and I decided to just walk away from the fame, the money and the power. I had more on my mind than just that plaster statue of Dopey - I was ready for the big leagues. I was still cute, though.

I rebelled. I cut my hair like the boys in New Order and lived the good life - cheap women, cheap liquor, and even cheaper drugs. Actually, I used my money to buy a computer and basically wasted my time playing games, ignoring the legions of babes practically begging me to even breathe on them. I was too busy being Joe Cool, with my $5 Clubmaster knock offs and politically incorrect lapel pins. Cuteness factor unchanged.

Man and Machine - I was unstoppable, mostly because the manual drum brakes barely worked. Hormones caused a temporary loss of my keen fashion sense, making me wear grubby ripped jeans and flannel shirts - how gauche! Despite this handicap my cuteness continued unabated, only further enhanced by my mean driving machine and it's thundering inline six engine - she was the best $250 I ever spent. This hot baby was only one in a long line of "Honey Wagons" to follow.

Since that photo was taken, I've rediscovered my purpose in life and have made the changes necessary to realize my destiny as a Cutey. My keen fashion sense has returned, resulting in one of the cutest Jeremys ever - although I will never again know the cuteness I knew when I was a wee lad. If you want to see a current photo of me, you should check out "What's Inside Jeremy's Wallet?", which is a nice little tour of the contents of my wallet. The "About the Author" page has a current set of photos.

Well, thanks for dropping by to see just how cute I am. Feel free to drop me a note and let me know what you think of my little page of ego.