"Where's the video camera?" she asked.

"I lost it," I said.

Her arms folded under her attractive bosom.

"I left it in a drive-through," I added.

"How do you lose a video camera in a drive-through?"

"Stuff," I said, bluffing.

"Well, get us a new video camera. I am trying to keep a record of my Kama Sutra improvement."

"You are not sharing those videos with anybody, are you?" I said.

"Just my girlfriends in my Kama Sutra class. It's OK. They already think you are funny."

I have the worst luck with video cameras. I have personally overseen the destruction of seven of them.

When I was a kid, our family's first video camera was one of those two-piece deals, where the camera was connected via a thick rubber umbilical cord to a tape deck that you wore over your shoulder. The deck was about the size of a tractor tire and was heavier than guilt. It was horrible. My dad would avoid events that required the video camera. He canceled Christmas three years in a row. In an unrelated note, he told me Santa died from a perforated colon.

I ruined this two-piece system at the age of 9, when I decided to videotape myself jumping my bike over a pile of scrap lumber. Of course, holding the camera with one hand compromised bike control, which was further compromised by a mid-jump weight shift of the 40-pound tape deck and by the umbilical wrapping around the pedals. I crashed back down to earth amid a pile of video equipment. I looked like a remorse-filled pornographer with roof access.

When I became an adult, I really started burning through the video cameras. There was a nice Sony that I sunk to the bottom of a lake in Marble Falls due to a canoe accident. The last words on the tape were "Hey, watch this."

I replaced the Sony with a Panasonic, which I promptly punted into the Grand Canyon after slipping on loose gravel and yelling the f-word so loud it echoed for a thousand miles. A donkey screamed in the canyon below me, and I looked down to see him on his haunches, with little birdies and stars circling his head and adjacent donkeys shooting me accusatory looks.

But this last one, this Canon – I just couldn't admit to the woman with the ample bosom that I actually broke it and tried to dispose of the evidence.

Advice: Never practice Kama Sutra by yourself unless you have a tripod or catlike balance.

Hear Gordon on "The Ticket" KTCK-AM (1310) weekdays from 5:30 to 10 a.m. Catch him on TV on The Gordon Keith Show, Thursday nights at 12:35 a.m. on Channel 8. E-mail him at gordon@gordonkeith.com.

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