Bad Idea of the Day

Tonight, coming back from the fundraising dinner, I saw some guy walking down the street with an acoustic guitar and a stool. And I came up with the most evil plan, ever. It's not nice and I don't recommend it. But it's pretty funny. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Oooh, look! A guitarist without a case for his guitar and a stool! I bet he's a singer-songwriter! And he's going to sing some songs about a girl named Sarah, who broke his heart and left the dog behind. And how she drank all his coffee and/or beer.

P: Or possibly something all political and angry.

Me: OOOH!!!  I have a great idea! When there is nothing to do, go watch an earnest singer-songwriter and afterwards go up an tell them that their music changed your perceptions on EVERYTHING!

P: Yeah! Like: Oh, man, I never thought about war that way. You're right! I...

Me: I can totally hear the sarcasm. You have to use ultimate sarcasm so they think you're really into it. Like this: wow, it sounds like that Sarah never really understood your artist soul...

P: I hear the sarcasm.

Me: DAMMIT. I was trying to be sincere. Ok. How about this: Wow, your music is amazing!

P: Nope. Maybe it's less "ultimate sarcasm" and more "acting."

Me: This will be on the "list of things to do when bored and can't find anything else to do."

An Erinku (in snarkiness, since I actually do like most singer-songwriter stuff):

whiny

because it's hot

I really can't remember

ever being cold

Like I wish you would

Conversation from yesterday (AKA why hanging out with me sometimes results in 80's references).

Me (singing): Do, do-do, do, do, dooooo, da-do, do-do-do, doooo

P: "Push It" by Salt and Pepa.

Me: You know what I really want to hear? I want to hear Ben Stiller do a cover of that song.

P: What?! He's not even a musician!

(awkwardly long pause)

Me: Oh. Wait. I always get Ben Stiller and that other Ben "I'm on Ferris Bueller" confused....Ben Stein? Yes! I want to hear Ben Stein sing-talk the lyrics.

Me (pretending to be Ben Stein): 

Oh, baby, baby.

Oh, baby, baby.

Yeah, you come over here

And give me a kiss

You'd better make it quick

Or else I'm going to get pissed

I would pay $5 to hear that song by him.

An Erinku (in the hot, melty home known as the Aquarium):

I called the number

And I

(again)

don't have jury duty on Monday.

On being professional

So the choir is looking for a new conductor. And some of the folks who've applied have been a bit...less than professional. Like the guy who wrote in saying he originally thought the job was dumb, but now that he was a finalist for some other musical gig in the area, it might be worth his time to apply. He was hoping that we'd accept his resume a good two weeks after the deadline. I didn't feel so bad telling him no. As a consolation, since he thought the job was dumb to begin with, he probably isn't missing much.

And today, in response to the denial he received, a "professional" conductor from the west coast somewhere had an epic whiny e-melt-down since he wasn't considered a finalist. I suppose he thinks that will make the search committee change their mind. Really? Don't worry, buddy, your e-whine has been added to your file in case you apply in the future!

I can tell from his application that he isn't actually a three-year-old, so one should be able to assume that he is old enough to have been told "no, thank you" a few times in his life. And yes, it's actually a big conspiracy against him and this whole hiring process was just a front so we could hire an insider. Our secret is out!  Because, in reality, if we really wanted to hire an insider, WE WOULD! The choir wouldn't have me coordinating all these national postings and replies and scheduling all this stuff just for a bit of fun.

Yeah, I haven't replied to his e-whine. I figure he's going to re-read it later today and feel like an ass. Or maybe not. I don't know. I've been known to mutter things about singers sometimes being overly dramatic and it seems that a couple of these wanna-be choir conductors aren't much better. Luckily, the rest of the folks have been professional about the whole thing...much like you would expect from people applying for a professional musical position.

And yes, it is disappointing when things don't work out, but being a professional means you whine to your friends and family and not to the place you were hoping to work. Because when you e-bitch to the organization, the only thing that happens is that you get made fun of by the cellist behind the scenes.

Moral of today's adventure: I rolled my eyes so hard, I pulled a muscle.

An Erinku (in snarkiness):
coffee
two inches of
awesome
left in my cup

Twitchy

Usually it's like this: you're almost asleep and then, suddenly, you're falling off a cliff and about to hit the ground. Then TWITCH! You're awake. I guess my mind was bored with that scenario, as it really isn't that funny (more scary). So, we took it to a whole new level last night. 

I was seriously close to zonking out, when I'm suddenly walking down the street. And then I'm not looking where I'm going and don't notice the uneven sidewalk edge coming up. I manage a MAJOR trip and then, to avoid landing right on my face, I have many, massive TWITCH, TWITCH, TWITCH actions as I wake up. I probably looked like I was having a seizure, but it was really my body knowing exactly how to contort when tripping so as to try and land on my butt. I tip over pretty often and have a lot of practice on landings.

I grumped out loud, "Not funny." And was seriously close to asleepness...when the whole thing happened all over again. Bad mind! Still not funny! Twice was the magic number, because I managed a trip-free nine-hour nap after that. I am aware my body and my mind like to mess with each other, but it's sometimes annoying being caught in the middle.

Moral of today's story: still not funny.

An Erinku (in pre-coffee-ness):

oh right leg

I promise to stop

bonking you

into things...soon