At 9:21 p.m., the phone rings.
Me: "Hello?"
Caller: "Hello, I'd like to speak to the lady of the house. Or is this the lady of the house?"
A pause, as I try to take what I had thought was a fairly masculine voice down half a notch.
Me: "Do I sound like the lady of the house?"
Caller: "I'm just asking!"
("Excuse me, sir, are you feeling all right?"
"Why, you freaking moron! He's just been shot in the head -- quite possibly by someone in that book depository!"
"Geez, Mrs. Kennedy, I'm just asking!")
The call ends after I explain that there is no "lady of the house" and point out that 9:21 p.m. is kind of late to be taking a call like this.
And it later occurs to me that 2008 is kind of late to be using a phrase like "lady of the house."
And it further occurs to me that I might need a voice coach. Oh, where is Larry Hooper, the guy from the old Lawrence Welk show whose voice could penetrate the studio floor and the studio basement's floor while journeying to the center of the earth, now that I need him?
Or maybe I should just try some vocal workouts on my own. ("How do you get to Testosterone Hall? Practice, practice, practice.")
And now, if you'll please excuse me, I have to head to eBay. Surely somebody there is peddling the sheet music for "Asleep in the Deep"....
1 comment:
Larry Hooper, ah yes. He always interrupted my real-time erotic fantasies of the Lennon Sisters, as if he were some overseeing headmaster.
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