That Time I Accidentally Made a Sort-Of Porno Film

I took a Film Class. I didn't really have much choice in the matter, it was either that or speech. At the time, speaking in public seemed way more terrifying than pressing buttons (which is how I assumed films were made). I signed up for Introduction to Film Making without asking any questions. I was convinced I was harbouring some secret film making gifts.

I had thought the class would involve loads of nice things - like filming an award winning independent film on my first try. But everyone else seemed to be way ahead, they'd already made films, and were pros at stuff like turning on televisions.

Our initial classes involved using basic editing software. Which was, in a word, frustrating.

After that we were put into teams. Our team made no sense.

There was one guy who seemed to know exactly what he was doing, after realising that the rest of our group was incompetent he abandoned us to go it alone.

This meant I was literally left alone, as the other girl was too busy to make group meetings.

I don't know if you've ever tried to shoot and star in your own mini-advert film assignment, but it's not easy. Especially when you're not quite sure how to use the equipment.

I ended up tying the camera to a fence.

My idea was to shoot a close-up, high intensity, sports montage type advertisement. 

I ran around and left the camera to record my questionable running skills.

I knew the footage wouldn't be as intensely-sports-star-like as my vision. But I did not expect the footage to be as bad as it ended up. You could barely see anything, and worse still, there was no sound except the wind.

I wanted to reshoot, but my teacher informed me that I was running out of time. He suggested it might be wise to record some sound effects and type bold words on some plain backgrounds and insert them into the footage. This would at least get me some marks for editing. I did as I was told...

The editing process was painful.

I ended up looking like a distressed alcoholic.

I didn't care anymore. I pressed save, without watching the last run-through. I'd been editing it for hours, I knew what was on there. I presented it to the class, thinking it wasn't really that bad.

When I pressed play, the screen showed a plain screen with the word PASSION written across it, the screen did not flicker or change, and the soundtrack of heavy breathing kept playing.

 I did everything I could to make it stop. Given my aptitude for technology - this was mostly flailing.

The teacher eventually called a halt to the mayhem with his portable mouse. And that, was the end of my Film career.

Crouching Mother, Hidden Mushrooms

When we were all very young and impressionable my mother took us mushroom picking.



She assured us that the field mushrooms would be better than anything we had ever tasted in our lives. We were suspicious. We were old enough to have tasted chocolate, and it's hard to believe that anything could top that.

My brother was only a toddler. I know this, because he was wearing a squashy toddler suit and couldn't really walk, he just waddled along, clutching our hands and saying "Mushroom" with an adorable lisp.

We walked for hours. It might have only been a mile or two, but we were young and it felt like our whole day had been sucked into a mushroom obsessed alternate universe.

Eventually, we happened upon a field of cows. These were no ordinary cows, they were the sort that just thunder up and down the field for no reason except to squash daisies.



My mother spotted some mushrooms in the field. We had been searching for so long that we all knew what this meant. My mother does not give up easily.



We watched in horror as she pranced about the field, the wild cows trundling after her.

This was a herd of cows that would have flattened any other human, but my mother treated them as if they were adorable puppies.

We watched with boredom as she skipped around brandishing each new mushroom at us, as if to seek our approval.

My brother, who we consider to be the brains of the family, got sick of the whole thing a lot faster than the rest of us.



We were too busy moaning at the gate to the cow field to notice his sudden departure. It probably wasn't all that sudden, because of the toddling.

He had gotten quite far away by the time we noticed.

My mother was too busy cavorting amongst the cows and mushrooms to notice. So we sprinted after our escaping brother. 

Just as we reached my brother, he stumbled and the most glorious thing happened. There are very few events in life that appear to happen in slow motion, but that was definitely one of them.

And then, this, which will remain in my mind as one of the single most memorable things I've ever witnessed.

There was only one way to remove him from the cow poo, without becoming covered in cow poo.

I lifted him out of the poo by the seat of his pants and carried him to safety.

We then did the very comforting thing, or putting my brother face down in the grass, and swinging him backwards and forwards, to try and rub some of the poo off. By the time my mother arrived, he looked a little grubby, but she was so infatuated with the mushrooms that she didn't seem to realise anything had gone so horribly wrong.

10 Ways to be a Woman (Seriously?)

Last week, I read an article that told me how to be a WOMAN. There I was, naively, imagining that being born with all the womanly bits and bobs was enough. I've been misled. To be a woman you must ignore what hard evidence suggests and engage in the following practices.


1) One cannot be a woman without maintaining high levels of personal grooming. Never mind anything else (life questions, academia, taking out the bins, thinking - leave that to the men), it's important that you tweeze regularly and file your nails.

 

2) A woman must always portray herself with dignity on Social Media (You really can't make this nonsense up. The mention of Social Media was particularly alarming, because I'd been reading under the assumption that the article was written in the Dark Ages).

3) A woman must learn to hold her liquor, if she cannot hold her liquor then she simply must not drink (I'm not sure this person has ever been to a real town.).

4) A woman must always appear to be happy. (All other emotions have been taken, moronic laughter is your ticket to womanhood).

5) A woman must learn to write thank you notes. People will then know she is kind and gentle and womanly. (God forbid she should be barbaric and say THANK YOU like a man).

6) A woman must dress conservatively. In some nice pumps, with a string of pearls and a conservative dress. (Sounds to me like the "woman" who wrote this article, has only ever encountered women in cults/churches/other planets).

7) A woman crosses her legs. (Does she?)

8) A real woman must know how to walk in heels so as not to look like a tottering duck. (Yes, tottering has been known to reduce oestrogen levels).

9) A real woman will practice and perfect a polite telephone manner (there are no words).



10) And, in case we still weren't sure what a woman should look like. The article continued to dictate on the matter of modest clothing (which made me want to knock on her door and twerk in hot-pants).

The Time I was Abducted by Aliens

After finishing the obstacle course of death, (which you can read about by clicking here) I passed out. All I can remember is that I felt more cold and delirious than ever before. Even if I put all the cold bits of my life together, they would not have equalled the cold I felt. Everything went black and I dreamt about marrying the great big farmer I'd collapsed at the feet of. I know what happened next, I was lifted to safety, someone changed my clothes and dried me off. I was probably very heavy and dead-like during this entire process. I know that some of my co-workers saw my almost-dead body being dragged about by the Order of Malta and assumed I was being dramatic. I know all of this, but I do not remember it. What I do remember is when I woke up.

There were small suction things stuck to my arm, I was in a giant tinfoil blanket, my skin was a bit blue and there was a machine beeping. I made some noises. I was trying to ask where I was.

Then I noticed all the people in the room. They were more scary than the unexplained machine. They all had horror movie smiles on. I knew then that they assumed I was going to die or were relieved that I had somehow not died.

Then, I noticed my surroundings. I was sitting in a barn. A barn with a great roaring fire, a bunch of fake smiling people and a dead badger skin on the wall. There was also a very detailed map for the farm with pictures of all the things you could kill, if you were that way inclined.

At the time, I had no idea where I was or why. I'd forgotten everything and so I assumed the most logical thing.

They had removed my clothes. I did not know what clothes I had been wearing, but I knew I would never leave the house in a giant tin foil blanket.

 

 

I do not believe in things. I don't even believe in myself 50% of the time, so this was not ideal. I made noises that I hoped would bring help.

 

 



Help did not come. Instead a man with an incredibly rich moustache asked me impossible questions. I tried to answer, but weird noises were coming from my mouth and I couldn't move properly. I was trying, but my body was a lump. It was not doing anything.

The annoying happy people offered me tea. I was beginning to remember flashes of the race, so I knew they were not aliens and accepted.

I did this by making odd noises, so I am not sure how they knew I consented. For all they knew I was not a fan of tea or highly allergic to caffeinated beverages. It was wild. They fed me tea with absolutely no concern for the consequences. They were very excited because I was shivering. It felt horrible, like my top teeth were trying to murder my bottom teeth, but it was apparently very impressive. Then something happened. Moustache man asked for my name again and this time a real word came out.

It was like being a baby. I had no idea what I was saying, but it was very exciting to say it because some part of me knew it was a real word that had something to do with my life before the tin foil blanket.

The people were confused.

I kept saying it because it was the only thing I seemed to be able to do.

I remember the moustache man telling me I had severe hypothermia, but I wasn't really listening. I was too excited about my word.

I spent a lot of time with the smiley people. I shivered lots, which is apparently how your body warms you up. My heart calmed down eventually - it had been through a lot - from obstacles of death, to a fantasy farmer marriage and then overcoming the shock of possible aliens. After sometime I started remembering things. I remembered that poodle was not my name and was actually the logo of the company I was running with. Then I remembered my name.

Every new thing I remembered made the smiley people very happy.

Then I acquired motor skills. It was tough, but I more or less drank from the cup independently without spilling too much.

After I'd spent enough time shivering they released me. I was still mildly concerned that the experience was a bit surreal.

I got a lift home with my work people and hobbled to my bed.

I was terrified of getting cold again, so I buried myself in hot water bottles.

I slept like a baby.