Appendix B: Videos
Every once in a while, I am seized with the inexplicable urge to turn my journal into an exciting multimedia experience. Unfortunately, my special effects budget is sadly limited, and my video equipment is antiquated, so the results are of questionable quality, to put it kindly.
It didn't take me too long to realize, of course, that these videos could be put to work scaring perverts on Kazaa. I've got a whole folder of these things, with the filenames changed in strange and kinky ways, just waiting for prospective wankers to suck 'em down and open 'em up. To date, the horrible videos have been downloaded by more than 30,000 unsuspecting pervs on the prowl for scat, golden showers, underage porn, and general depravity. I get a warm, fuzzy feeling every time I think of some hoser sat sitting there, cock in hand, all ready to whack it, and then some ol' RAT pops up. Ha, ha. Anyone else who feels like adding this junk to their shared files folder is more than welcome to do so. Just make sure you add fake porno information to the file info (you can get to that in "My Kazaa") as well as changing the file name, in order to maximize perv consumption.
Believe it or not, this first video represents a whole term's worth of work, for a class I'll never forget (and not in a good way). The entire seven-minute disaster was filmed on my couch, which then had to be edited out frame by frame in Photoshop. The whole thing was then painstakingly reconstructed in Flash 5.5, and converted to .avi format for the Internet's viewing pleasure. In addition to procuring me an unexpectedly high grade (a C-), this video helped perpetuate the common misapprehension that I am a man.
This one's not nearly as crass as the name would suggest: it's nothing more than a cute wee rat running around in a bucket with a rude sign taped to its back. Halfway through, the rat gets tired of the sign, and tries to eat it.
This one, optimistically listed on Kazaa as "Lolita Lesbian Action", really features me dancing ridiculously to the tune of a certain Swedish painkiller commercial.
Here, with a hairbrush in place of a microphone, I live out my favourite rock-star fantasy, complete withspotlightcrooked floor-lamp for dramatic effect. (Yeah, I want to be American! I do, I do, I DO want to be American!)
This one was a joint effort, put together by me and my sister. Thus, it's twice as bizarre as usual. The soundtrack is our idea of a techno song (neither of us, I should point out, has ever listened to one intentionally). The visuals are just weird, and include feet, random poking, Stella the giant rat, and a rather unconventional handjob demonstration by yours truly.
In which my right hand makes its operatic debut.
"Hi. My name is--what? My name is--who? My name is--CHICKEN, CHICKEN!--Slim Hoser!" This is my (very fake) Canadian Idol audition. I'd hoped to audition for the real thing, in hopes of getting on some sort of "worst of" show, but I had to work on the day of the Vancouver auditions, and my health wasn't co-operating, anyway. Nonetheless, I believe I can say with a fair degree of confidence that I am the worst rapper of any colour in Canada, and quite possibly in the world.
This is, I think, my favourite one, although there isn't much to it. It's just me serenading my giant pouched rat in a very, very creepy sort of way. Because my singing is (believe it or not) even worse than my rapping, I haven't made much of an effort to carry the tune, so I more talk than sing. Count yourself lucky.