we can't rewind we've gone to far

"Videotaped sex?" the man on the telephone said to me after I'd offered my cheery greeting.

Taken aback by his query, I was all, "How dare you, sir! I do not know what you take me for, but I am not some two-bit harlot! I am pristine!! Why, I never! The nerve you must have to sully my good name! Why, why, why if I could reach through this telephone and profer a dainty slap against your no doubt course cheek for the mud you wish to drag my made up pristineliness through, I would do so this instant! Do you hear me? This instant, I say! Videotape sex! Harummmmph! Why, that's unfathomable to me! How did you get this telephone number, anyway?"

"This is the giant megaton bookstore, right?" the man questioned, oblivious to the above dialogue. Because it was all in my head, naturally. "Ah!" I declared, suddenly remembering where I was. "You're asking me this as if it were a noun and not so much a verb, yeah? As in 'Do you have Videotaped Sex, not do you videotape sex?'"

Sure enough, I ascertained my wannabe actor was looking for a book. A how-to tome on capturing the lovey love thing for posterity. Alas, we didn't have it in stock, a fact that clearly disappointed him and required me to tell him we don't get a lot of inquiries for guides on videotaping sex.

"OK then, do you have any suggestions?" he asked.

"Well, for starters, spit out your gum or anything else you may be chewing before the camera starts rolling. That's just nasty," I responded (maybe in my head. maybe not. play along). "Oh! And whatever you do, do not look directly at the camera! Gah! People videotaping themselves having sex and insisting on breaking that third wall? That is my biggest freakin' pet peeve!"

"I was thinking maybe something about film making or photography," George Lucas-lite interrupted.

Sadly, we didn't have anything like that in stock right now, either. I fear I left him dejected. It's a fair trade off, really. Why? Because I wanted to ask him if it was truly necessary to have a how to book on making your own videotaped adventures (if you want that to happen, fast forward for this ending!). Color me naive, but if someone coerced me into videotaping the lovey love, it would be an exclusive, one time screening for an audience of two who - oh look! - just happen to be the stars of the film. No dwelling on the lighting, story arc or score, becaust it's not like anything I'd commit to tape would be making the award circuit at film festivals, thank you very much. Nor would you be able to go all, "So, you got a YouTube page?" to me in hopes I accidently send you a link because I have this really funny clip of something lame on there I want you to watch and in doing so, instead give you all out access to the rack. So give that one up before you ever start (But you? Oh, I will never give up on you!).

So read the above paragraph as a declaration that I've never taped myself having sex or engaged in any activity that may resemble sex. This could include, but is not limited to, the reactions one might see me have from eating a really great brownie or watching a movie on the Hallmark Movie Channel (The look on my face from those two options? Easily confused for the orgasm face. One a blissfully achieved appearance, the other a 'Thank goodness! Finally!' look. You decide which is which). No amount of quality lighting is going to change my mind. My rump shaker prefers to see where it's been as it moves along, not what it's doing bouncing around on my TV screen.

Because believe me, if it did start the bouncing, it would probably get a giant head and I don't want to have to figure out how it's going to hold the Sharpies to start signing autographs.