You want to know what's impossible? Putting together a video of yourself when you're a vain, vain person sporting the skin your father warned you about when you were sixteen and wearing nothing but a string bikini and Crisco Oil as you lounged on the swimming pool deck. His prophetic words leathery old bag will haunt me until I can afford to have my eyes done.
Every wrinkle, line, skin flake, craterlike pore and pimple has come to my attention because MacDougal Street Baby has mentioned that I should vlog or video blog and because I'm nothing if not accommodating, I tried. I really did. As some of you will recall, I am no stranger to videotaping myself doing embarrassing things. In fact, there's a whole youtube series of videos featuring MathMan and me as we commuted to work. They're cleverly titled Commute Chats and in this one, I fellate an ice cream cone. And I dragged my mother into it, too.
I've created the worst kind of self-indulgent sentimental videos here, here and here, music videos, biology videos, goofball videos here and here, a catrospective and a nostalgic look at high school here.
So today I spent some time making and deleting videos of myself. I talked to the camera. I ironed. I gave a tour of the stockpile. And I ended up with nothing. I do weird things with my mouth when I talk. I don't know quite what it is that I do with my face when I pause to think, but it's not attractive. I can't script for myself to save my life. My skin is a shameful mess. I can't quit staring at my double chin, crepey neck and cougar chest. And, no offense to lispers, but my camera's audio gives me a lisp, but not just any old lisp, but a lateral one. I mean, come on! Aren't the insults that come with aging enough?
Finally, out of desperation to produce something I went to go my go to subjects. Yes, I filmed the cats and you can hear me directing them and getting pretty dang huffy when they don't take direction. Which is often.
MacDougal Street Baby, I'll make new videos as soon as I can figure out how to do so using MathMan's laptop and the webcam. I promise. I've got things to say about Charlie Sheen, Mike Huckabee, Newt Gingrich, politicians sermonizing about morals, my most recent job applications and several other crazy and annoying things.
Until then, I give you.....MicroManaged Cats.
I know. It's pretty clear that I spend way too much time alone with these cats. We understand each other just a little too much. I just can't decide if I'm Jane Goodall or Cecil B. DeMille.
Is it just me or do you hate to hear yourself and/or see yourself on video? Show of hands, who wants me to smash my camera?