Thursday, August 07, 2008
The NERVOUS STOMACH Series: Ego-Strategy 32 – TRAP(P)
Current mood:Making it happen…
Category: Life
Okay, I’m thirty-eight and it’s been one of the worst days at work EVER. I just want to spend the evening soaking in vodka and The Sound of Music.
I’m trapped at a company that makes zero sense – I’m just been introduced to my fifth “virtual manager” in two years (because they’ve reorganized my department AGAIN and I report to yet-another person in yet-another state); my new dual-processor laptop runs slower than my crappy old one (‘It’s the new anti-theft corporate encryption software,’ my sys admin tells me), and my five-thirty conference call included a thirty-minute discussion over whether a picture of dolphins splashing around in the ocean captures the “synergy” of our group.
You get the idea.
So I’m REALLY ready to have a white russian on the coffee table and Maria and the Von Trapps on the high-def plasma screen. I’ve seen the movie like forty times, but I never get tired of singing along with great songs. Songs like “How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria” and “Sixteen Going on Seventeen”. The show is my ultimate favorite.
All my life, I’ve secretly imagined what it would have been like if my parents had put me up for auditions for the movie — Kurt, when I was a kid, Freidrick, when I was a teenager, and Rolf, when I was seventeen (going on eighteen). Lately I’m thinking I might be hard-pressed to pull off Gayorg – but to sing a duet with Julie Andrews, I’d at least give it a shot (and I secretly think I sing better than Christopher Plummer does anyway).
I pop the DVD into the player, peel off my too-hot penny loafers, and prepare to launch into my overstuffed couch. That’s when I realize I don’t have any Half-and-Half in the house (a key ingredient for my white russian.)
“Fuck,” I say out loud to no one.
I scrounge the fridge for a few minutes, wondering if stale milk or powdered Cremora will successfully pinch hit but, in my heart, I know it will be more painful than my last personnel review. I put the DVD on ‘PAUSE’, hop into my hybrid Honday, and head to the grocery store.
I negotiate past a screaming kid (drooling what looks like Cream of Wheat on his Sponge Bob overalls) and enter the dairy aisle, wondering if I’ll still have time to watch the bonus interviews with the cast members. I softly sing “Doe, a Deer” – nailing all of the tricky “Doe-Me-Me, Me-Sew-Sew” parts – while I scan the aisle. That’s when the shopper next to me grabs my arm.
“Is that ‘The Sound of Music’ you’re singing?” she asks, staring at me.
“Yeah,” I say, mentally willing her to disappear like the Von Trapps at the Saltzburg Music Festival. Out of the corner of my eye, I search the cooler shelves for Half-and-Half.
“That was really good!” she says, gushing. “My friend is a singer and, believe me, she’d be interested in hearing you.”
“No, really, I just want to grab some creamer,” I say, seeing the empty slot for the Half-and-Half pints. Maybe they have some in the organic section, I think, ploting my escape.
“Sing some more,” she encourages. Praying it will get rid of her, I briefly launch into “Climb Every Mountain,” vibrating the high parts in my best mock Mother Superior, hoping it will drive her away.
It doesn’t.
She laughs, claps her hands, and grabs her cell phone. “My friend is at the shop next door. I”ll have her come right over. She’s gotta hear this!”
“Listen, Lady,—”
“I hear Christopher Plummer got his start this same way,” she talks over me, turning to flag down an attractive older woman who’s just entered the store.
I grab a quart carton of organic creamer and turn to scream at the woman and her friend – to tell them that I don’t give a shit, that I just want to get home to my vodka and DVD, that I hate my job and them too – when I recognize her attractive older-woman friend.
It’s Julie-freaking-Andrews.
“Do you like white russians?” I ask instead, launching into a heartfelt rendition of “I Have Confidence”.
For FUN, I put my stuff at www.GregoryGerard.net
For SERIOUS, I put my stuff at www.JupitersShadow.com
I invite you to visit my stuff.
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