Vlogging... Vlog You!

June Brown

I have been asked to do vlogs...

I made a few recordings, deleted them all. I really tried. I played around with lighting and angles, trying to capture my “best” side, but failed fucqing miserably. June Brown (for those of you who don’t know her, she is an amazing British actress) recently taught me that one should never read your own work back to oneself. Maybe that was the flaw in my vlogs. I would watch the video after I have made it, criticise the shit out of it, get frustrated with myself and then delete it.

Honestly though there are more reasons why I shouldn’t vlog. Let me explain them to you. 

1. I pretty much type the way I fucqing speak. So you won’t be “getting the real me” through a vlog. I am always the real fucqing me. No airs or graces, just me. 

2. I don’t have a lot of privacy. I always have people in my home. Fucqing always. Why? I run a Pagan spiritual group that hosts classes, rituals and various other events. Also my husband and I love to entertain. My point is, when no one is around I generally LOVE the privacy. Now why the fucq would I destroy that by showing you every fucqing angle of my home. You wanna see the inside of my house or my new garden, well then come to one of my many events. 

3. If and when I do decide to do a vlog, I would like for it to be met with excitement. I don’t want for it to be just another vlog in a long line of vlogs that people eventually get gatvol off because of the same thing happening or being said over and over and over again. O vok. Really. 

4. Lastly, I am fat bitches. Yes I am also phat but seriously I am fat. Why the fucq would I add ten pounds to this already round face. If you want to see that then just watch one of my many television appearances. 

Now I would like to, if I may paint you a picture on the technical aspect of why I can’t do vlogs. I have an old Homechoice video camera. This thing only works when it wants to. It is about as temperamental as the weather in Cape Town. So I can’t really use it because 90% of the time it doesn’t even switch on. It is malignantly useless. For those of you that know me well, you will also know that I hate nothing more than to struggle, especially with technology. So to save myself from having a fucqing stroke, the camera from meeting the wall and the house blowing up in an atomic explosion caused by my rage and frustration, I rather pretend that I do not own a video camera. 

This leaves me with the video recorder on my laptop. The inboard or built in camera jobby...

Random Internet Toes

Let me explain. Firstly if I am going to record a video for you I want the setting to be beautiful. Not that I want to say it myself, but my house is stunning. Also the camera has to be a little bit higher than myself, where I am sitting relaxed on a chair or coach, to hide all 7 of my chins. Now how the fucq do you accomplish that? You build a tower. This tower is constructed from tables, chairs and various plastic containers that you have in the house. Isn’t it rickety you ask. Of course it is. 

That is where the power of the big toe comes in. Now you start to employ all the yoga techniques that you have read about but never used. You stretch your body out in front of you so that you can use your big toe to balance your laptop tower of vloging. Of course you have to stretch out nice and far to reach properly. You know you have achieved this when the pain in your leg becomes so intense that you start to loose all feeling in the leg that is propping you up. All the while you can see yourself on the laptop screen and you realise that the pain has now stretched to your face and somewhat resemble someone that suffers from a severe case of Bell’s palsy. All seven of your chins are now out parading like sunflowers as you slide down the coach and they seemed to have invited two more. Their petals glistening in the sunlight. Through all of this you try to keep the image of comfort and elegance while your eyeliner and foundation mixed with sweat are dripping from chin number 5. Your own arm that used to be casually draped over the back rest of the coach in an attempt to look casual is now the only thing stopping you from sliding off the couch into the puddle of sweat that your yoga legs have created. Like a cat, you have magically sprung nails from your once smooth hand and they have dug trenches into the coach in an attempt to keep you up. At this point you start to hope that you hope your relationship with your maker is good. Even if you are the biggest atheist you start to hope that Jesus loves you because this might just be the last thing you will ever do. 

Vlogging as you can see is therefor (at this point in time) completely out of the question for me. But none of know what the future might bring. With a little luck or more stupidity I might just one day treat you to “the real me”.

xxx