My Singing Sensation

The sound was... disturbing.

I was trying to listen to some music as I made dinner, but loud, top-of-your-lungs, off-key singing was coming from the room which my 2 teenage daughters share and, although hilarious, I could not take another minute of it.

"ElemenoB!" I shouted, "keep it down in there!"

"She has her headphones on, Mom," Thumbelina informed me. "She can't hear you. She can't even hear herself, obviously."

And this is when the plan began to take shape in the evil part of my brain that is conditioned to teach my kids their life lessons in a fun (and embarrassing) way.

I grabbed my camera...



...and then played it for her.

"Do you hear yourself?" I asked her. "This is what we get to listen to when you're singing with your headphones on. We can not even hear ourselves think." (Do I sound like your mother, or what?)

Apparently, she did not learn her lesson, because a couple of days later when I was trying to have a phone conversation I was constantly distracted by her much-too-loud singing again...



And I showed it to her. She laughed. I also asked why she found it necessary to stand on her bed while doing her self-performances. She promised to stay on the floor.

I suppose she thought that staying off of the bed was my main point, because WITHIN 20 MINUTES she was at it again. I grabbed my camera... but she had locked her door.

Her confidence in her lock was laughable. Does she think I haven't unlocked her door before? Once the lock was unlatched (child's play!), it was time for another video.

I cracked open the door and realized that she was serenading her sister who was sitting on the floor, her back to me, allowing for plenty of camera time...



This time she was a bit embarrassed because it looks like she is singing to her bed post.

"As long as you continue to sing, I will continue to record your performances for all posterity," I told her. "And don't think I won't post them on Facebook and my blog."

"Yeah, like anyone reads your blog," was her cocky reply.

Did that sound like permission to you? Or maybe even a dare?

Because it certainly did to me.

Tooting His Own Horn

Photo from otherlandtoys.co.uk

There is something about this one doctor at the vision center where Allen has become a regular.

Not the doctor whose last name adorns their walls and business cards. We like that doctor just fine. I'm talking about the other guy, the one who uses fancy machines and laminated cards to get Allen ready for the real doctor.

This other guy is a vain man. You can tell by the very air about him that he is important and everyone had darn well better know it. He kind of bugs us.

I'll call him Dr. A... as in Arrogant.

When Allen had his most recent surgical procedure done, we were ever-so-lucky (that was sarcastic) to be in the presence of Dr. A for an extended amount of time. Twice he barked at nurses to come and fetch him some thing he needed RIGHT. NOW. You could tell by the way the nurses interacted with him that they would have thoroughly enjoyed punching him square in the nose or telling him to GET IT YOURSELF! but instead they were very professional. I was impressed.

After Allen's surgery was complete we were brought to a room to wait. And wait. And w a i t. Dr. A was busy. He would tend to us at his convenience. We began to wonder if he had forgotten about us when we heard him paged over the office intercom: Dr. A, phone call on line 2.

And then right outside our door, he took the call. "Theodore! I called you because Dr. Not-So-Awesome-As-Me wanted another $500 to lecture for one hour at our Very-Important-Doctors-Who-Are-Better-Than-Everyone conference next week. I am so sick of being taken advantage of. (pause) Yes, I allowed that other Not-So-Famous-Eye-Doctor to pay his expenses. But he still should not be paid more than the other lecturers. He is getting $500 to speak for an hour plus $500 in expenses. I don't think he needs another $500 just because he didn't try hard enough to get a flight home that night."

We were pretty sure he didn't remember we were right there, in the room right next to where he was loudly taking that call on line 2. Either that or he wanted us to be impressed. (We were not.) And then, I heard it.

PPPppppppfffffffffffffffftttttt.....t.t.t.t.t.t.t.t.t.t.

He totally farted! At first, I thought it was the chair he was sitting on, but the rapid-fire at the end confirmed it. We stifled our laughter as he went on with his phone conversation. Unbelievable! And hilarious!

At one point, Allen stepped out of the room and asked a nurse if we could leave yet. I think this was when he was finally alerted to the fact that we were still waiting to be seen. He finally finished his long, drawn out conversation. "Fabulous to hear from you. Are you going to be at the awesomely arrogant and important eye doctor's golf tournament next week? Because I'll be there and I know that will make everyone want to come. Great. See you there."

And then, as he walked in the room to give us permission to leave his presence, I realized that something had changed. He was still walking about in an air (pun intended!) of self-importance but to me, he was now just a human being.

One who, apparently, likes to toot his own horn. (Pun totally intended!)

Embarrassment + Time = Comedy

It all started in my friend Holly's living room.

I had gone to her apartment to hang out, and there he was... her brother, Ted. He was laying on the couch, watching TV, as Holly and I went about our business. The fact is (and I am not proud of this), at the time I was pretty much infatuated with anyone who was male and paid any attention to me at all. I noticed Ted was watching us... and that was all the encouragement I needed.

In those awkward teenage years there was one thing I knew for certain: guys liked funny girls. And so I tried to think of something witty to say. Nothing was coming to me. Ted was still watching.

As Holly was talking to me I looked around and found a small, plastic object sitting on the counter. Its shape was such that it made me think of a walkie-talkie. I grabbed it and pulled it to my mouth, responding to Holly's dialogue with, "That's a big 10-4, good buddy." Holly laughed. I was clever! Hilarious! Witty!

I stole a sideways glance at Ted. He was still watching me, his eyes open wide. Yes, I thought. I have his attention. Before we know it, he'll be asking me to prom.

"Over and out!" I spoke into the plastic, holey walkie-talkie. Ted sat up. He was going to talk to me! Holly just kept laughing.

"Um, Gerb..." he started, obviously uncomfortable. "That's my cup."

"What? This thing?" I asked, inspecting it from all angles. "With all these holes, it must not hold much water!" I retorted, tipping the 'cup' to my mouth as I pretended to drink from it.

"No... I mean, it's my cup," he answered, looking slightly disgusted. "Not like a drinking kind of cup."

"There is no way this thing is a cup," I answered, smiling at him demurely as I batted my eyelashes in his direction.

Ted looked to Holly for assistance. She was trying hard not to wet herself. He continued, painfully. "You know how I play football? Well... that's my athletic cup," he explained, motioning toward his nether-region with a cupped hand.

Oh. His cup. That cup. I am sure I turned 37 shades of red. I quickly set it back down and tried to play it cool. But honestly, how do you recover from that?


Oh, in case you were wondering- he never asked me to prom. I think he was the kind of guy who liked cheerleaders, not funny girls.