I was on my computer all day yesterday playing with Windows Movie Maker for fun. And the, oh, 6 hours I was on there, I comprised a short slide show of Rennaissance Festival 2005. If that doesn't tell you how much spare time I have, nothing will. Anyways, I'm importing and saving and dragging and loading clips around like crazy, when half way through I find this pair of pictures with me waltzing around in full get-up with a shiny cell phone attached to my period ear. I started laughing. here, let me let you in on the story...
At Renn Fest this year, I had the great misfortune of wearing a dress without pockets, shoes that weren't boots, and a cell phone to carry around. the camera case fit the camera too snugly, Jansy's magical bag of goodness was already full, so I had to find a place to put this small thing. I look left, I look right, I look down. Oh, sheer genius. Where else to put it? I was wearing a uniboob bra, and since my cleavage leans toward the smaller side, there's a convenient niche right between that pair just big enough to cram, say, a cell phone. So, turning it on 'vibrate', I stuffed my phone down my shirt - no worries.
An hour later, we're taking pictures by the chapel, and my boyfriend's camera is malfunctioning. So I call his cell phone (which hopefully isn't wedged between someone's breasts) and he doesn't answer. Great. So, back into the cleavage my cell phone goes, and we go look in the metal shop so Tricia can shop for her littler brother's birthday present. In otherwords, I'm in a shop full to the brim with sharp metal objects and men of all ages and most of them who know how to use these things because they are getting swords at Renn Fest.
And then - horror of horrors - MY BOOBS START RINGING. Right there, in the shop, filled with men and swords and swordsman, the ice cream truck song is belting out from my BOOBS and everyone is STARING at me because my BREASTS are singing the ice cream truck song!! Tripping over my long skirt, I'm fishing around in my shirt TRYING TO FIND MY PHONE in this public store just knowing one of these swordsmen are going to chop me into little bits because my BOOBS were ringing, and that just isn't natural and probably punishable by death.
Finally, my groping hand came across the subject of my public agony, and I flip it open, laughing and crying all at once. It's my boyfriend, calling about the camera malfunction. I walk quickly from the sword shop, because I feel swordsmen's pointy eyes on the back of my neck, and I say, "Dude, you've got to hear what just happened to me..."
At Renn Fest this year, I had the great misfortune of wearing a dress without pockets, shoes that weren't boots, and a cell phone to carry around. the camera case fit the camera too snugly, Jansy's magical bag of goodness was already full, so I had to find a place to put this small thing. I look left, I look right, I look down. Oh, sheer genius. Where else to put it? I was wearing a uniboob bra, and since my cleavage leans toward the smaller side, there's a convenient niche right between that pair just big enough to cram, say, a cell phone. So, turning it on 'vibrate', I stuffed my phone down my shirt - no worries.
An hour later, we're taking pictures by the chapel, and my boyfriend's camera is malfunctioning. So I call his cell phone (which hopefully isn't wedged between someone's breasts) and he doesn't answer. Great. So, back into the cleavage my cell phone goes, and we go look in the metal shop so Tricia can shop for her littler brother's birthday present. In otherwords, I'm in a shop full to the brim with sharp metal objects and men of all ages and most of them who know how to use these things because they are getting swords at Renn Fest.
And then - horror of horrors - MY BOOBS START RINGING. Right there, in the shop, filled with men and swords and swordsman, the ice cream truck song is belting out from my BOOBS and everyone is STARING at me because my BREASTS are singing the ice cream truck song!! Tripping over my long skirt, I'm fishing around in my shirt TRYING TO FIND MY PHONE in this public store just knowing one of these swordsmen are going to chop me into little bits because my BOOBS were ringing, and that just isn't natural and probably punishable by death.
Finally, my groping hand came across the subject of my public agony, and I flip it open, laughing and crying all at once. It's my boyfriend, calling about the camera malfunction. I walk quickly from the sword shop, because I feel swordsmen's pointy eyes on the back of my neck, and I say, "Dude, you've got to hear what just happened to me..."
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By the way, I taught myself the very, very basics of Windows Movie Maker this summer. Man, I could not *believe* how long it took me to make about a two-minute clip of an interview I'd conducted. I have so much respect now for professional videographers/editors!