kyeat's Xanga

Life Stories: Tale 2

Tue, 13 May 2008 15:16:24 GMT

Here is yet another true story - it is an older story from my archives, but it did actually happen. It is unfabricated and another example of how funny life can be.

So there I was, practicing my clarinet around 1030pm at school on the only floor of the practice building with windows. The room I was in had about 40 feet of windows. I had an audition coming up, so I was just going through all of the rep on the list: mostly short orchestral excerpts. It got to be about 1150pm and all of the the sudden, three faces appeared in one of the windows.

There was a girl and two guys. I looked over and they said, with a twang of drunken splendor, "Keep playing, serenade us, can you come open the window?" So, I humored them and went over to the window only to find that I could not open it, so I tell them sorry, but they insist that I keep playing. I say to myself, what the hell, these guys are wasted and probably don't know much about classical music anyway, so I play a few excerpts and they clap and ask me to play something else, "from the heart" making a special request for music from Mr. Holland's Opus - which I don't know at all. At this point, I decide to play them the opening to Rhapsody in Blue by George Gershwin - for those that don't know it, find it online or rent Fantasia 2000....it's pretty hip.

This particular excerpt includes a schmoltzy glissando that any clarinetist tries to milk for all the sexiness that they can. I began playing and as I hit this glissando I see out of the corner of my eye that the girl begins stripping off her shirt and was waving it around above her head a la exotic dancer. Yes, she ACTUALLY did this, I could barely contain the laughter, but I finished the excerpt, blushingly looked over and she said, "I'm sorry, it sounded so sexy that I just couldn't help myself!" While laughing so hard that I am nearly peeing my pants, they ask me to play it again, so I do. The girl continues waving her shirt above her head and then prompts the guy to do a sultry strip dance too.

Upon finishing the second performance, the second guy says, "You are so sexy, will you marry me?" then the other two say, "You're a rock star, you're going to be famous! You rule!" I tell them to go to the bars and drink more and the girl introduces herself and says, "Seriously, that is the best music I have heard in 12 years." Then they leave.

I am still laughing my ass off when I inevitably get kicked out of the building by the janitor because the building closes at midnight. But apparantly, the janitor witnessed the whole thing and was also laughing his ass off. He told me how drunk they were and that they were listening to me play for about 30 minutes and dancing around under the window before they even showed their faces.

So here is yet another tale of the humors of everyday life. It is also the story to how I officially unlocked the secret to getting girls to take off their shirts: alcohol + schmoltzy clarinet solo = half naked women.

Life of Irony

Thu, 01 May 2008 19:50:44 GMT

I had a business meeting today. I had to drive about 3.5 hours to get to said meeting to give a presentation on a Farm Business Plan involving starting up a renewable resource center to create ethanol from cane. (For more information on ethanol http://yellowbordermagazine.com/2007/10/biofuels/biofuels-text) It's a pretty cool project and I think that it could be very marketable especially as busting into the corn market is proving to be VERY expensive for buyers of corn. In any case, allow me to continue the story. So I finish the meeting and start to drive back. I am about 1.5 hours away from the office on a notoriously cop heavy part of the highway when I pass by a highway cop. I look down at my speedometer and notice that I am driving 68mph. I thought, "Phew! Only 3 over." So I didn't feel very nervous, but I politely tapped on my break so that I was going 65.

About thirty seconds later, the highway cop is coming up fast behind me. He flashes his lights and I pull off to the side thinking that he is going to whiz by going to an emergency call, but he was actually pulling me over. "Hmmmmm," I thought, "I guess that I was going 3 over."

So I pull over and he comes up to the car and says, "Hi miss, do you know why I pulled you over?"

To which I reply, "No, not really."

Then he follows with, "Do you know what the speed limit is?"

I say proudly, "65."

"Actually.......it's 55."

I get a stunned look on my face and say, "Oh sh*t, sorry."

He asks, "Where are you from, do you drive this route often?"

I say truthfully, "I am from south of here and this is the first time that I have driven this route. Going to and from a city north of here for a business meeting."

So he says kindly, "Well, I could give you a moving violation that would give you two points on your license and a $200 fine, but since you aren't from around here, I am going to write you a violation for 'Wasting a Finite Resource.' This ticket doesn't count against your license, and it is only $60, and basically what it means is that by speeding, you were wasting gas, but instead of getting in trouble for speeding - which is a petty crime - you will get in trouble for a civil violation - which is not really a crime." I chuckled to myself a little and handed him my registration and license.

He came back and read me the paperwork. I looked over the paperwork to verify that I wasn't getting a speeding ticket and verified verbally with him what the violation entailed and what fine I would have to pay. Then I signed it and started laughing aloud. The officer looks at me slighty confused and says, "Is everything alright miss?"

I reply, "Of course it is. I just got a ticket for wasting a finite resource while driving my Toyota Prius home from a meeting about creating a renewable resource."

And just what is the officer's reply? "What?!? Is this car electric or something?"

This is a true story.

Life of a Perfectionist

Mon, 07 Jan 2008 01:56:08 GMT

Well, it's been a while since my last blog, and right now, I am only blogging because I am in a state of panic. I am a perfectionist. I have known this for a long time. I set really high standards for myself and if I ever fail to meet them, then I am harder on myself than a drill sergent on a new soldier.

I have recently had a moment of not meeting my standards, well, rather not meeting the standards of my day job. My job is a simple one, really. I am an agent, so my job consists of making sure that everyone is following the laws and that those who aren't are being sought out and held responsible. Sometimes, when I am doing an investigation for instance, my job can get a little tough trying to decipher what is being done illegally and how to go about catching all parties involved. It also can get tough, and rough, if, when finally making an arrest, someone decides to become violent. But in both cases, I have been trained and know how to handle myself. I keep my standards high, making sure I resolve issues quickly and efficiently.

However, I have just done something absolutely stupid. One of the easiest parts about my job involves ensuring that things are secure. Like buildings, confidential infomation, and important people. Easy stuff, honestly, as long as I follow a mental checklist, I am fine. So what happens if the mental checklist doesn't remember something? I forget to secure something which means that any number of assets are at risk and no longer secure. I did such a thing last night. As stupid as it sounds, I forgot to lock a door. Forgot. To lock. A door. And now, I won't be able to sleep because I feel like I should get fired.

At this point, nothing seems to have been jeopardized, since there are checks in place for such stupid mistakes, however, I still forgot to lock a door and put assets at risk. My coworkers are saying that I am human, that I have been working 6 days a week and over 40 hours a week and have been sick and that things like this happen. Things like this don't happen to me. I am not stupid, I don't make stupid mistakes, I don't like excuses, and while I am human, I don't fail or put things at risk. I don't forget important things, yet somehow I did.

So what am I supposed to do? I have been told that I am not to be fired, but I deserve to be. If not fired, then I deserve to be written up or suspended or something. If I do get written up or suspended, that will jeopardize the transfer and promotion that I have been working so hard to get. So while part of me knows that I should be punished - afterall, that I what I do to people when they break the rules, I don't want to be, because I will have to start all over again. Earning back trust is a lot harder than earning it in the first place.

Should I stay? Or should I find another day job? Should I run away from the problem I created because I am too embarassed to face the fact that I messed up? Or should I try to correct the problem by trying to regain trust and prove that I am reliable? But how does one ever prove that? People forgive, but they don't forget. And if I can mess up something small, what is to stop me from messing up something big? Something that could put lives in danger?

So here I sit, hating myself for my stupidity and hating myself for no longer having a clean slate. A fucking failure, that is what I feel like right now.

Life of a Quitter?

Sat, 10 Nov 2007 18:34:25 GMT

I am here in the amazing state of Mississippi. I am in the capitol: Jackson, Mississippi. You know what's cool about Jackson? Seriously, do you know, I can't find anything. I went out last night with my friend. We went to downtown....downtown Friday night! There was nobody there, no restaurants open, no people wandering around. The only place where there were cars was the graveyard and the cancer center. Cancer and death - my two favorite things!

So, I came here for yet another audition (see blog: Life of a Musician). Through time, I have found that I often audition better when I don't really care what the outcome is. So, I figured that doing an audition in a place that I obviously didn't want to take, I would stand a chance at advancing for the first time in my auditioning career. Unfortunately, no such luck. I still suck, and I still can't play the clarinet.

Life of a Drunk Dialer

Fri, 26 Oct 2007 21:02:49 GMT

We have all done it at least once: called someone when we were intoxicated and barely remember the conversation the next day. I have done it often enough that after a night of drinking, I check my outgoing call list just to see who I need to call and have a sober conversation with later in the week. Getting in touch with people has become so easy, that it pretty much allows for such conversations.

The most recent drunk dial I got was actually a voice message and it was as follows:

"AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! It's Sean Cornello and I am hangin' out with Vince in the great state of Indiana. <<<laughter in foreground and background>>> I am wondering how you could possibly leave the great state of Indiana, there are so many exciting things to do here! You should have answered your phone because we are just having so much fun - insert sarcasm here. Call us back!"

This one is was litered with slurred words, naturally, but this was the basic message. This one, is what I call a "barely drunk dial"; meaning that the calling party was simply having a blast and calling all fun people associated with whatever activity they were doing at the time. Now, one of my all-time favorite drunk dials was from an ex-boyfriend. The message, loaded with slurred words, went somewhat as followed:

"Hey, it's Brent, remember me? The guy who cheated on you? Well, it's Oktoberfest in San Francisco and - ouch, i just slipped and fell on my ass - ha ha, ass.....you have a great ass. It's way better than my new girlfriend's. In fact, you're better in bed than she is too. I love your ass. It's so nice to.....<yells to friend:> STOP TRYING TO STICK THAT BEER BOTTLE UP MY ASS!! <friend screams back:> but you said ass!"

He still denies having called me, and unfortunately, but this is easily an example of the kind of drunk dial that one doesn't want to make - ever. I mean, I would hate to call any of my exs and telling them that my new man is not so good in bed. Not to mention, calling an ex, in general, is usually the worst drunk dial because, at least in my case, I am usually talking about how much I miss them. It often leads to crying, but not always.

Now, being a drunk dialer doesn't just include actual phone conversations, have you ever drunk texted? Me too, I do that more than I drunk dial now. My little brother once passed out, phone in hand, mid text. I have read some of the weirdest texts because the Word format is easy to use, but I am not always aware of what letters I am using and NEVER edit before sending when drunk. If its not that, then I do something really weird, like the time that I had drunken "text sex" with someone. I know, I know, pathetic, but this is why being a drunk dialer is a serious issue. There should be drinking insurance - not just for drunk dialing and texting. It could be for when you say something absolutely evil to someone, or maybe even make a move on someone who isn't interested. The next day, your drinking insurance provider comes and wipes out there memory. I could have used it the time that I drunk dialed my boss.....oops!

I can't imagine the whole drinking insurance thing is going to come out anytime soon. So, what are we drunk dialers supposed to do until then (besides stop drinking so much)? Fear not! It has come to my knowledge that there is something new that prevents drunk dials - at least ones that could be potentially bad.

Don’t dial Under the Influence!

Incoherent calls to exes, bosses and partners could be a thing of the past as Virgin Mobile urges you to get tighter with the right posse.

Dial 333 plus a phone number you don’t want to call when drunk e.g. 333 0431 123456.

Virgin Mobile then stops all calls to that number (e.g. 0431 123456) by blacklisting it until 6am the following morning from your phone.

To undo the action in an emergency dial 333CLEAR (33325327).

When blacklisting the number dial the number exactly as it appears in your mobile contacts book

How much is it?

This is a real thing! We are finally saved from drunk dialing! YAY! I have to hand it to Virgin Mobile for coming up with the idea. It really is genius - although, I imagine that someone who has a serious problem with drunk dialing would probably drunk dial anyone - so they might have to block their whole phone. They might even just undo the action and then call whomever they please. So, this might not work so well for a serious drunk dialer to do to themselves, however, this would be a great thing to do to your friends who are drunk dialers. You know, the ones that just can't get over their ex, or the ones that call their significant other constantly when its supposed to be a friends night out. Just snag their phone and blacklist whatever numbers you think are appropriate.

While it doesn't solve all problems related to drunk dialing, I guess that it is the best that we have - until someone comes up with a brillant plan to execute Drinking Insurance, that is!

Life of a Musician

Mon, 15 Oct 2007 20:26:05 GMT

Well, today, I will write my first xanga blog. Here is some background:

I am a musician, not the rock star kind, or the kind that ever wants to be a rock star, although, that might be fun: I play the clarinet. That's right, the clarinet, the licorice stick, the agony stick, the pain stick, the black mamba (wait, is that really a name for it?). And no, I don't play like Benny Goodman. Playing the clarinet means I've lost the possibility to have 68% of the population as an audience, and not playing like Benny Goodman reduces another 15%. In any case, I am a classically trained musician who plays the clarinet and here is a story about my life hunting for a job:

I moved back in with my parents in August after finishing my Master's Degree in Music Performance. It's not so bad because I am living in my parents guest house, so I don't have to deal with them reposessing that parental control, but I still get the benefit of home cooking. This year is supposed to be my chance to take auditions looking for a job so that I don't have to hear my parents say, "I told you you should have stuck with engineering." Since the only other thing to do as a musician is to get, yet another degree (a doctorate), I chose playing my hand at auditiong.

So, while I am trying to make some money, I have been looking for as much work playing as possible, but have only landed two paying gigs. This weekend, I played on Mt. Lemmon at the Oktoberfest. Oktoberfest is fun and means lots of beer driking right? If you are really into it, you show up wearing your favorite lederhausen and dirndl and drink beer out of a fancy stien. Well, I wish that I had this dirndl,

SEXY DIRNDL

unfortunately, the band provided the dirndl and therefore, it was a "one size fits all" kind of dirndl. I like to refer to it as the Fuck-Me-Not dress. You know, one of those, "I hope that I don't see anyone that I know outfits"?
NOT SO SEXY DIRNDL

So I show up wearing my knee-length dirndl with knee high stockings and and start playing my clarinet, when all of the sudden, these clouds appear and the temperature drops 30 degrees. Our wonderful outside dance floor becomes deserted, but management requires us to finish the last two hours of our gig. So, frozen and uncomfortable with the coldest draft going up my dress, I press and finish the four hours of playing. It really doesn't seem worth it for $100.

So that was gig number one. Gig number two is a little better as it doesn't involve any cheesy dance music, oh wait, it does. I get an email from the local symphony and they need a sub for their Music In the Schools educational outreach. The gig entails me showing up, sans rehearsal, to play five pieces that I hardly know with four people that I have never played with. Maybe it doesn't sound really difficult, but these people aren't just community musicians playing for fun, like in the Oktoberfest gig. They actually got degrees like me, but unlike me, they are good enough to have won jobs in a symphony. So I show up and start playing, not too badly - in fact, I played pretty well, including a Benny Goodman-esque solo where I tear it up! All is going well until the last piece, unfortunately, I totally blow the first entrance and get this fierce look from the flute player playing across from me. It was a look that said, "I can't believe that you call yourself a musician, and I can't believe that you get the honor of my presence," all looks came with a Russian accent. Keep in mind, that this is the first real mistake that I have made on music that I have played for the first time, and this guy has played all of this stuff for about a year or more. At first, I try to ignore the situation, because we get to play this program two more times today, but unfortunately, my psychotic brain, which dwells on things and takes things personally messes the same thing up the second time. At this point, I am freaking out a little because, in this cut-throat world of classical musicians, mess up once, it can be written off as a fluke, but mess up twice and you just suck, not to mention, you will not be called again.

Fortunately, I have friends who help me through this kind of thing, so I make a call during the next break and feel a lot better about the situation. I can do this, and I WILL NOT mess up again. Yay, I didn't mess up the third time! In fact, I totally nailed the spot, but I messed up a different spot - oops! So, I might not get a call anyway, but at least I bettered my performance, right?

End blog one.