This post will be brief; I feel the Advil PM working its magic already. (Whoa, I can, like, smell colors! Awesommmmme...)
I mention in my bio that I direct a youth symphony and chorus. Great gig.
Anyway, at rehearsal today our one trumpet player (who has spent the last two months blowing his horn on football fields instead of at symphony rehearsals, so he's a little behind on the ol' practicing curve) played one particular passage so diabolical in its badness I swear I saw a mushroom cloud emerge from the end of his trumpet.
Not one to sport much of a poker face, and fearing for the safety of the innocent flute players sitting in front of the brass section, I shot him the unmistakable look that has menaced music students and DMV clients for centuries, the look that says, "You chose the wrong day to miss those notes (or register your car without proof of insurance, depending on which category of look-recipients you fall into) and now-----YOU. WILL. PAY."
Evidently, the look was so powerful it became airborne, and made its way clear over to the cellos. (It may have sprinkled on the violins along the way, but they had long since gone to that happy place where violinists hide when things get unpleasant, and were therefore blissfully unaware of the near-death experience they'd just had.)
Inspired by the intensity of the moment (and this is where the story really begins), the principle cellist began playing the theme from "Jaws". Not particularly original, I'll admit. But...
... in that moment, it was like the clouds parted and James Earl Jones hollered down from some celestial recording studio, "DENAE! WHAT YOUR LIFE REALLY NEEDS IS A KICK-(SMALL DOMESTICATED FARM ANIMAL) SOUND TRACK!"
Of course!! Why the halitosis didn't I think of that sooner?? It would certainly make communicating with my teenagers easier, that's for (large concrete structure designed to block rivers or house beavers only theirs are small and made of wood) sure!
For example, my kids have always believed that when I said "No," I really meant, "Start whining and harping and griping until the very sound of your voice is like a cheese grater on the creamy havarti of my soul."
But with the right soundtrack, conversations could go more like this:
KID: "Mom, can I go to the midnight showing of "Cedric Diggory Plays a Vampire" next Thursday even though doing so will mean I'll get exactly 17 minutes of sleep on a school night?"
KID: "Cheese grate, cheese grate, cheese grate..."
(SOUNDTRACK: Theme from "Psycho")
KID: "Suddenly I feel like cleaning my room and kissing my brother and going to bed at 8:30."
Is that not the most beautiful thing you could ever imagine hearing?? Listen to it; it practically SINGS! "I'll go to bed at 8:30, dear mother, just as soon as I locate my floor..."
And neutralizing your offspring is just one of the benefits of having a Life-Track!
Neighbor letting his dog (fictional teddy bear, stuffed with fluff) on your lawn? Soundtrack plays, "Mamaaa...just killed a man..."
Get pulled over for doing 60 in a 15 mph school zone while the bus is unloading the handicapped children? Soundtrack plays, "Mercy, mercy me..."
Daughter tosses her new jeans into the washer with your white lingerie ? Elton John croons, "I guess that's why they call it the blues..."
Yes, this is definitely a plan with potential, the creating of a musical backdrop to add crescendo and harmony to my every waking moment.
Which, come to think of it, isn't right now, as I've been asleep for the last twenty minutes. That Advil PM is really singing its own hypnotic lullaby...
Get to bed, dumb blogger-head...hmmm, music to my ears.