You know that awards show that was recently on TV that everyone is talking about? I auditioned to be the announcer of that show. It was a fun audition. I got to do the typical speech, welcoming you to the 2007 Blah blah blah awards, featuring Justin Timberlake, Fergie, My Chemical Romance, etc etc etc.
It sounded eerily just like the gal who actually got the job. Only five years older. And we all know in THAT image driven business, five years is like 50.
The girl who got that job is my Newman. Remember on Seinfeld? Jerry would be one-upped my Newman and say with much frustration, "Newman!"
That's what I say each time this gal gets the gig. Which happens often. She is my direct competition. We sound almost exactly alike, only I am slightly more polished because I've been doing it longer. And in this case, she sounded every bit her young years while I sounded like the mom at the frat party, desperately trying to be cool to impress her son's friends. Hah, ok I joke. I sounded pretty good. Just not good enough.
She was flown to Vegas, rehearsed with the big shots, did the gig and met the stars back stage, made amazing contacts with even more big shots, and her career is going to sail into orbit.
While I sit here in St. Loser, recording messages on hold for local car dealerships.
Oh, I watched the awards. I watched them and each time she spoke, I said out loud in a sad little voice, "Why can't that be me?"
And she's really nice, too. Really nice and really appreciative. While I remain a bitter old troll, endlessly talking about my glory days. What glory days?? Exactly.
In other boring news:
Booking an appointment with an endocrinologist is like booking a hair appointment with the hottest stylist in town. They're fully booked for months in advance and you have to know someone who knows someone to be seen sometime this decade. The earliest I can be seen by the top suggested docs is January! I eventually talked my way into an appointment in October with an associate of one of the top guys. OH please, please, please let this guy be good. Let this doctor be the one who solves my endocrine nightmare that is PCOS. Or at least gives me the good drugs that will make me feel like a healthy human being again.
Today was our first follow up visit with our social worker. Av spent the entire time sticking out her tongue and going, "PHHHTTTT" at the social worker. June Bug spent the entire time with her head resting in my lap, looking up adoringly into my eyes. When she left, we slipped each girl a baby cookie for such excellent performances. Actually, they're always that cute. Even with Av's second double ear infection in a month. I hope this isn't a preview of what to expect this winter. If so, it's going to be a loooooong season.