I just flubbed a sponsor's ad on the air...badly. [chuckling] For some reason I find this immensely amusing when, for the sake of professionalism, I should be horrified. I mean mumbling over the airways like a deaf-mute virgin teenager who woke up to find his face smothered in vag isn't a good thing... in radio.
"Good Afternoon!" "I'm Aubrey Henry with your 12-40 K-R-J-Y news, traffic and weather update! Traffic is brought to you by the Air Quality Management District...visit them at spare-the-air-dot-com...dot...umm...spare...hmm...this is confusing...well, um, spare the air and your health, folks."
[shaking head] Tragic.
Apparently, the numerous gin/vodka tonics I've ingested over the past 10 years or so have pickled my brain something awful. My domesponge simply couldn't deal with the mind-boggling juxtaposition of the "dot com" portion of the ad and the period denoting the end of the sentence I was reading. It's times like these that I wonder if my parents have been hiding for years the awful secret that I'm really one-fourth mongoloid.
Anyhow, the point of today's entry is to discuss my future. As demonstrated by my obvious disregard for the finer points of radio etiquette-- I've determined, once and for all, that my talents in communicative expressionism would be better served in a written/typed medium.
I do get to write at work as I've explained earlier. It's written in a phonetic style that uses aspects of Associated Press style and blah, blah, blah. Well, take this gem of an excerpt for example:
" A wheelchair-bound woman described by police reports as "Mimi" lured the victim (blog note: victim was also in a wheelchair) to the intersection of Madison and Vine streets around midnight by pretending to need assistance. When the 59-year-old victim rolled up, a legless, black male in another wheelchair grabbed the older woman's purse and managed to take about 15-dollars from it before she pulled it away. Both suspects sped off eastbound on Vine Street."
Goddamn Shakespearean, aint it? But all of it, be it wheelchair bandits; feral kitten attacks; even Sacramento's annual summer trenchcoat flasher parade...it just, doesn't work for me anymore. So I'm considering new career options. I used to be interested in all kinds of neat-o shit before I allowed myself to get tracked into the doomed path of journalism.
At one time or another in my life I've wanted to be: a marine biologist, firefighter, Lion-O, cartoonist, food taster, bodybuilder, porn star, detective, fighter pilot, actor, lottery winner, pirate, ninja, ninja-pirate, rapper, singer, rock star, master thief, Prince of Monaco, shark fisherman, international man of mystery, political advisor, race car driver and art dealer.
If any of you would be so kind as to chime in with any great ideas for a new exciting career, I'd be in your debt. None of these other career choices have worked out so far.