I can’t lay it down completely on Twitter’s shoulders for the lack of updates on this blog, but rather a bout of fairly drab weeks with the occasional highlight that’s sadly condensable into 140 characters.

But today extends longer than those 140 characters. You see, our sister site’s got a Christmas video coming up, and they needed a girl or two from our female-dominated side to portray some stereotyped readers of the site. Y’know, so that everyone gets to feel the love.

But somewhere between the geek and adventuring mountaineer, someone threw the “material girl” rock and it randomly struck me.

It was really just plain bad karma from my laughing that morning over a mass e-mail about some ugly beauty pageant contestants. I realise this now, but it’s too late for regrets.

But as usual, reality never quite paid due respect to the hollow, bottomed-out sense of utter dismay whacked into my gut. Because just as I spent two weeks psyching myself up for the ill-fitting portrayal of the gadget-loving fashionista, I walked onto the film set today realising that the props didn’t quite spell that.

Not the stuffed dog, or Piglet (of Winnie the Pooh fame). Not the bean bag. And certainly not the plush strawberry.

Yes, somehow, life managed to take the already awkward “material girl” persona and cute it up, just for me. And I realised that it was going to be a long day.

It almost took two hours to shoot my short segment, consisting of me mostly not quite nailing the right expression required. “Too serious,” said our director, after my first take.

“Too bossy…too eager…too desperate…not desperate enough…your eyes are dead…you’re not feeling it…Okay now you’re just crazed,” he interjected, as I repeated my lines.

And then there were those close-ups. Where’s my airbrush? Where’s my soft focus filter? It’s too depressing. DVD-quality eyebags never rocked harder.

As I walked back to my desk, I thought about how the camera puts on ten pounds. Then I had a Twix.