camera store hilarity

[dragonlady7]

author, dayjob camera store

via https://ift.tt/3hbFvvV

So… this week i”m in Buffalo, working at the camera store.

What I’ve been doing, besides the hour or so a day of online work that is easiest to delegate to me, is doing the 8mm film transfers that we perpetually have a hundred billion of backed up to do.

Today I got a reel wound on, started up the software, flipped the switch, and kind of absently zoned out, as I often do. It was rather a while before I glanced up, and– uhh–

uhh why is this man pressed up against a wall what is this abelard and heloise bullsh–

then the scene cut to the other side of the wall and OH

Now I know that if an 8mm movie reel is in a suspiciously featureless white cardboard box that’s a sure sign of a, ehm, professionally-released film of ehm, a particular nature.

(the image behind the cut would be non-worksafe if it weren’t so blurry, LOLOLOL)

Yeah that’s– that’s a late-70s twink at a glory hole, for sure.

So uh. That was a lil piece of history! Extra topical now that NYC Dep’t of Health is calling for a return to glory holes in this new plague era….

The other white cardboard box was stamped with a studio name, “Colt Studio”, and a copyright date of 1978, and said “for home projection only, all rights reserved”, and the reel in it featured twenty minutes of an extremely chiseled young man having some quality time with himself and a mirror.

Hilariously, he cleans the mirror at the end.

Anyway, I did not put those reels onto DVD for the customer, as he was already fretting about the cost– I just did his home movies, which he can actually, you know, share with the family. But that was a lil slice of history to be sure. (Yes of course I watched them, how could I not? It’s historical curiosity.)

As a hilarious aside, I sent the less work-safe photo above to my Dude, who eventually wrote back that he was spending today languishing in an extremely long and detailed workplace sexual-harassment seminar, so that was kind of an extra little amusing capper.

Anyhow, folks, it’s all fun and games until your home movies have gay porn in the middle of them. Label your shit so your own kids won’t have this situation. (I kid, I kid, I am certain the man who brought this order in was well aware of what movies might be mixed in, by how oddly he apparently behaved about the whole thing. But, really, label your porn well; I found a deceased relative’s stash while cleaning out his house and it would’ve been nice to have uh kinda had a lil chance to prepare myself, or like, not look.)