Attack of the Killer Telemarketers: Part Deux

Oh-Woe-Is-Me-Day:  (n.) a dreary, depressing day where the victim is prone to spontaneous crying and bouts of self-pity; the victim may attempt to fish for compliments, wall herself up in her own apartment, and imbibe an entire bottle of Little Penguin Shiraz in the span of 3 hours; causes of such a day may include irritating co-workers, break-ups on Christmas (true story), continued “Single” status on Facebook, no time to pee, the Apocalypse, losing a limb, and/or decapitation; remedies may include several episodes of Grey’s Anatomy, a hot bubble bath, phone calls to The Mom, and either the Hallmark or Lifetime channel; Oprah works, too.

No free trips given away on this blog!

Needless to say, yesterday found me battling against such a day.  I struggled through a long day of student teaching, rushed home to teach 5 voice lessons over the span of 3 hours, and dealt with some personal issues to put a nice bow on the fantastic present that was Thursday.  Oh, and my dog threw up in my bed.  Thanks, Bailey…

Don't give me that "I didn't toss my cookies in bed" look...

 

All in all, though, my day really wasn’t that bad.  Many, many, many worse things could have happened, and for that fact, I am grateful.  I am healthy.  I have all my fingers.  And teeth.  That alone is a cause for celebration!

Grin and bear it!

So, by 7:00 PM, I threw off the stresses of my day and indulged in pasta, red wine, and a bubble bath (not at the same time, although my wine glass did accompany me to my “spa”…I have jacuzzi jets in my tub!)  I even brought along my phone to call up The Mom.

Carbs + Alcohol + Mr. Bubbles + The Mom = Therapy

Little did I know my tranquil rehabilitation would be interrupted by an evil previously thought vanquished from my life.  What kind of monster attempts to get a hold of me through The Mom?

The Mom:  …well, if it’s late, I don’t want you driving home (frequent topic of our conversation).  Oh!  By the way…guess who called here looking for you?

Me: Who?

The Mom: The New York Philharmonic…

No!  Not the New York Philharmonic!  To quote from the movie Hook: “My great and worthy opponent!”

BANGARANG!

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Two Hours

In a deviation from my usual blog fare, I feel the need to share with you, my readers, about a very special seminar I attended this past week.

I’m currently finishing up my certification program for music education.  At the moment, I’m about 1 1/2 weeks away from completing all student teaching requirements.  Every week, we are required to attend a 2-hour seminar on Tuesday afternoons…a seminar which sits on the tail of a very long day for me.  Typically, when I’ve attended these weekly meetings, I practice the art of sleeping with my eyes open.  It in no way reflects my feelings towards the content presented in seminar (except the paper folding lesson…THAT was boring); I just usually am so mentally/physically exhausted that I have no choice but to take a brief power nap with eyelids fully opened.  And that takes effort.  (Apparently, after a Google search, people can actually do this!)

However, this Tuesday was different.  We didn’t learn how to fold a circular piece of paper in 14 shapes (true story). We didn’t watch a teacher go nuts while dressed up as a witch (true story).  Instead, our leader opted to deliver a life lesson to us all that will stick with me for the rest of my life.

Old McDonald had a farm (and now my money, too)

Well, folks…it’s official:  the season of giving has begun, and Ronald McDonald is the proud owner of my first $1 bill given to a charity this year.  And you’d think, with all that money, he’d at least be able to buy some new clothes (I mean, c’mon…red and white stripes are so 1973).

Today’s RAC was supposed to involve me surprising a friend with a cold, refreshing Mocha frappe from McDonald’s.  If you haven’t tried a McD’s frappe, let me take a minute to perform another RAC for the day by telling you to run and try one.  It’s like someone took the silkiest cream from God’s dairy, combined it with the purest coffee beans from Juan Valdez himself, and blended it together with Santa’s own ice supply.  It’s a mini vacation in a 12 oz. plastic cup (complete with caramel or chocolate drizzle).

My intended RAC, however, did not end up being my official RAC for the day.  Why did I change my mind, you ask?  Because of Angel, McDonald’s employee extraordinaire* (no lie, her name really was Angel, unless the “o” in “Angelo” got scratched off somehow, but, seeing as how she was a girl, “Angelo” really wouldn’t have applied…unless…)….

(*=I say extraordinary because, frankly, I prefer to think of the employees who wait on me to be the best workers McDonald’s can find.  I’d rather not imagine Billy Joe Ray preparing a Big Mac for me if I think he’s got lice, an equal amount of missing teeth and fingers, and a less than sub-part work ethic….and dirty hands…and a cough…with phlegm.)

Moving on!  It’s a long and complicated story of how I met Angel.  We crossed over obstacles to meet one another, and spent years of our life writing back and forth, until that fateful day, we met on the Titanic and swore to “never go hungry again!”

Actually, I can’t back that up…but I will say that it took an enormous amount of time to actually make contact with Angel.  The good madam in front of me at the drive-thru must have been shopping for the Three Bears, because it took about 4 minutes to complete her order.  On top of that, she was multi-tasking:  placing an order while getting the contents of the order from somebody else on her cell phone.  How courteous!  It only took her 3 minutes longer than the average American drive-thru-ee.

“I just called…to say…I love you…”

In a world of email, texts, Tweets, IMs, status updates, and posts, who really needs to use the telephone anymore?  With all the different electronic Pony Expresses we have at our fingertips, the telephone is on its way out, slowly fading off into the sunset…

And don't call me Junior!

Some people are natural born phone conversationalists.  I am not one of these people.  When I was growing up, I was very content with a 2-minute phone call to determine my weekend plans and outings.  I didn’t tie up the phone line for hours on end to discuss why Bobby So-And-So shouldn’t date Unnaturally Blonde Barbara…or which member of N*SYNC was the hottest…or who I was takin’ to the box social an’ what I was bringin’ in my hamper an’ why Mistuh Jud Fry was a mean ol’ cantankerous sort of man.  Besides, most of my closest friends back then were guys…creatures who are predisposed to loathe any conversation over 3 minutes long (note: I have many male friends nowadays that can handle extended conversation, as long as I wear something shiny to satisfy their A.D.D.).

Planning to wear this to my wedding to keep the groom's attention...

I’ve never been a phone person, so the Internet was a great saving grace for me.  I can see what I’m going to say before I hit that little “SEND” button, and prevent myself from saying “Hi Tit on the head” when what I meant to say was “Hit it on the head.”  I don’t have that error modification on the telephone.

Chips Ahoy, Matey!

It’s been one week since I created my blog, which features my quest to perform one good deed per day up until New Year’s Eve, and I’ve discovered that a good deed is a good deed, no matter how small.  Even if you believe your positive actions are unnoticed or meaningless, chances are, they’re not.

Take yesterday, for example:  I wound up being so busy with school, voice lessons, and musical auditions that by 5:30, I realized I had not even thought about doing an RAC the entire day.  In my haste, I quickly concocted a good act, which, to me, seemed like a last ditch effort to complete my task for the day.  I had a (almost) unopened package of Chips Ahoy Cookies sitting in my pantry and found myself grabbing these as I made my way out the door.  I planned to share them with the other auditioners I would be sitting with that evening.  I realized that I hadn’t put much thought into it, and it could even be perceived as attempt to push away the thousands of calories I’d consume by devouring the package.  Still, it’s a gesture I wouldn’t normally do (I mean, I love my cookies…c’mon?  Who really wants to part with cookies?), so I figured it would suffice.  My waistline also breathed a sigh of relief as they scurried out the door.

24 individuals reason to get on a treadmill...

You get to be pretty popular when you’re the bearer of baked goods.  I’m pretty sure that out of the infamous Butcher, Baker, and Candlestick Maker figures, the Baker was the most eligible bachelor.  Am I right ladies?  We can get our own cuts of beef and Yankee Candles, but a man who bakes?!?

And he even has a time share in Bermuda...