Hands And Annah Make a Porno

I know for a fact I’m going to lose followers for this, but I’ll resign myself to considering it a means of narrowing my count to people who are really gonna stick by me.

Ready for some ninja action? Me too.

Lately, my current state of unemployment and endless failure at job hunting have forced two things to be constantly at the forefront of my brain: famosity and other methods of money making (I can only imagine where you guys think I’m headed with this and laughing my ass off).

A few years ago before working for the Church of Jesus Christ I was also unemployed but under much sunnier circumstances. I decided much against my mother’s will to take six months off to just read books and hang out and travel and party and basically do nothing with my 23-year-old existence. At that age it didn’t seem like a lousy idea but now that I’m 27 unemployment feels like a black hole that’s slowly sucking me up into never land and trust me when I tell you there are no fairies or magic mushrooms on the other side.

But let’s not digress, guys. Staying true to my hobo lifestyle at that moment, I decided office work was a ridicule I didn’t want any part of so instead I looked for various methods of obtaining cash through the monster that is craigslist.com. My multiple sources of income mostly stemmed from amateur work as a “promotional model” which is a sweet and false terminology used for a girl who stands at conventions selling dentures or handing out pens with the words Prozac or Cialis on them. Sometimes, other odd little things would pop up as I searched and even though some were scams others were legitimate work offers that paid in cash (fun stuff like serving wine at a wedding or handing out gum at the mall).

One of these jobs particularly stands out in my memory as the weirdest thing I’ve ever done for money. The ad on craigslist read like this:

FAST TYPIST NEEDED FOR TELEVISION GIG

When I called, a chirpy girl I could only imagine to be named Heather answered and asked me three simple questions:

Heather: How fast do you type, how old are you, and are you okay with pornography?

Me: 88 words per minute, twenty-three and yeah, why not? *shrugging on the other end of the line*

Heather: Alright. This gig lasts a week and we pay cash. $20 bux an hour.

Me: Awesome. I’m there.

Heather: Great! You’ll have to sign a disclaimer when you arrive.

With that she gave me the address and hung up. Two days later I was ready to tackle my first time working as a reality show typist.

I arrived at the run-down warehouse ten minutes early and the sign on the door that read “All Actors For Stretch Come Inside” confirmed I was at the right location. I figured ten crackheads were lurking in the back and mentally kicked myself for not telling my mom I had taken up this “job” for I was certain I'd just set myself up to join a prostitution ring specializing in selling slightly chubby girls with really fast hands.

As soon as I stepped in, Heather ushered me to a small office with a desk, two lawn chairs and a creepy looking orange cat just hanging out on a corner. She pulled out the “disclaimer” and gave me the job description.

Heather: This week we are interviewing all potential actors for a reality tv show for Fuck Me Enterprises (fictitious name obviously). This will sort of be like The Real World but with actual televised sex. Are you okay with that?

Me: How much did you say this paid?

Heather: $20.00 bux an hour cash. Eight hour days with lunch included.

She had me at lunch.

For the next seven days, I typed my ass off in a room that consisted of a computer, flat screen tv mounted on a wall, one desk and two chairs (cat not included). The images from the interviews which were taking place in the room next to me would play on the flat screen tv, and all I had to do was type the questions asked by the panel of judges with the appropriate answers and contestant descriptions. So basically if a guy looked like this:

I'd have to type this: Roided up Caucasian guy with scary fucking tattoo on forehead and missing front teeth that likes elbows and sucking toes.

I kid you not when I say this is a rundown of all the interviews I witnessed:

When my gig was over I was fully convinced that porn is made up of two types of people, savvy television producers and incredibly naïve girls or sex starved losers with dreams of becoming the next Ron Jeremy (gag!).

I wish I could say it all ended with this traumatic experience and my inability to even think of sex for almost eight months but after receiving my $1120.00 check Heather called me back and asked if I wanted to come in for another two days until the permanent typist returned from her vacation.

Sure, I replied. Big mistake.

My job once again was to take record of everything that took place in front of the cameras, but instead of interviews, it was sex (and lots of it). The only difference between these people and real porn stars is that they'd do anything to impress the producers. These reality wannabes coveted famosity more than me if you could believe that so in turn they did whatever it took to attain it.

I can’t begin to explain the sorts of kinky and nasty stuff that went on in front of those cameras, most which I’m sure didn’t make it on tv. Imagine the Real Housewives of New Jersey but without clothes and then men of all shapes and sizes humping them while the camera is rolling and the director is yelling, “No, lick her ass from that angle so the camera can catch it.” It was probably a good thing I didn’t have a boyfriend at the time because I couldn't fathom the thought of sex without the urge to toss my cookies.

The lunch buffet for the crew was spread in the most beautiful manner each day at the back of the mansion and even though I wanted to eat all the succulent delicacies as badly as I wanted Ricky Martin to B.O.Ne me, I was afraid I’d just end up eating a chicken breast doused in pube gravy, since most of the “actors” had no qualms about piling their plates with heaps of food while prancing around butt booty naked. Ugh…

On my last day I forgot my wallet at home and my stomach was growling so hard one of the producers looked at me and said, “The food is awesome here, want some?” with a grin across his portent face.

I had no choice but to stand in line in between a bunch of naked people and pick a sealed jello and a banana as my meal for the day.

An actor named Chukk with a double K stood next to me and asked, Is that all you’re going to eat.

Me: Yeah, I’m not feeling really hungry.

Chukk: The meat is really good here, dude. You should totally try it.

I faked a stomach ache and went home an hour later. I've never watched porn since.