I feel obligated to blog because...
A) Loreal did.
B) It's the eve of a new month, and if I posted something tomorrow, you might think it was a prank. Or something. Actually, I guess that doesn't make sense. Unless I posted that I was starting this weblog anew, with daily updates and insights into my life and thoughts, and then didn't update at all. But that might turn out to be the case anyway.
C) I really don't want to revise my Aristotle paper, but I've run out of ways to procrastinate.
So, here I am, back with daily updates and insights into my life and thoughts, even though the only people who read this already know me and therefore already know. Except no one reads this anymore, because I stopped updating it...hey, around the time I resolved to get serious. Coincidence? I dunno.
So. Um....hi. I feel like I did when I was eight and....well, you see, back then, I had this older friend across the street named Jessica. She was a sophisticated twelve, and she introduced me to the world of Madonna, Kris Kross, and that "I've found a masterpiece in you" song. She also introduced me to the radio station Q-105. Q-105 is now Q-104.7, and only plays hip-hop, rap, and all that happenin' stuff. But in 1991, it was Q-105, and had Celine Dion and the Red Hot Chili Peppers interspersed with its Color Me Badd and Salt-n-Pepa. Anyway, our life's mission became that of trying to get "on the air" of Q-105. She'd get on her convertible-shaped phone and I'd perch on her bed with the cordless, and we'd dial the number repeatedly. Most of the time, it was busy. Sometimes, it would ring, and ring, and ring, until the mechanical operator lady would get on the line and inform us that she was sorry, but the person we were trying to reach was unavailable. But every now and then, we'd hear a gravelly voice on the other end, greeting us with, "Q-105, this is Bruce!"
But we'd always chicken out before we could ask him if he'd put us on the radio, and instead, we'd settle for the significantly less daring, but still somewhat thrilling, "Hi, um...I'd like to request a song? "I'll Be There," by Mariah Carey? Thanks."
And then, one day, at my house, we decided to DO it. We were mutherfuckin' READY. She got on the phone in my parents' room, and I got on the phone in the kitchen. And we dialed. And it....oh God!...it rang. And....oh dear Jesus...someone picked up!
"Hi!" we said cheerily. "Can you put us on the air?"
The DJ at the other end paused for a second and then replied, "Sure! You ready?"
"Yes!!!" we said!
"Really ready?"
"Yes, definitely!"
"Okay, ready....go!"
Total silence. My eyes popped out of my head. I couldn't think of a single thing to say. On the other phone, I heard Jessica breathing, and eventually squeak, "Um....................hi."
About five more seconds of silence passed, and then we heard the DJ say, "Damn it. They hung up." *click*.
Anyway, I feel like I did at that moment. But I also feel that this has been a sufficient post, so I will quietly duck out of here and make a valiant attempt at doing something constructive about my room.
Postscript: Almost as bad was an incident that occured a year later, when I was nine. On a whim, I decided to return to my roots and call Q-105 to request a song. I dialed...it rang...someone answered....
"HELLO! THIS IS Q-105, AND YOU'RE OUR 105th CALLER!!! CONGRATULATIONS, YOU'VE WON A FIVE-DAY CRUISE TO HAWAII!!!!!!!!!!!!"
My eyes widened; I froze, terrified, and then slammed the phone down and scampered up to my room.
A) Loreal did.
B) It's the eve of a new month, and if I posted something tomorrow, you might think it was a prank. Or something. Actually, I guess that doesn't make sense. Unless I posted that I was starting this weblog anew, with daily updates and insights into my life and thoughts, and then didn't update at all. But that might turn out to be the case anyway.
C) I really don't want to revise my Aristotle paper, but I've run out of ways to procrastinate.
So, here I am, back with daily updates and insights into my life and thoughts, even though the only people who read this already know me and therefore already know. Except no one reads this anymore, because I stopped updating it...hey, around the time I resolved to get serious. Coincidence? I dunno.
So. Um....hi. I feel like I did when I was eight and....well, you see, back then, I had this older friend across the street named Jessica. She was a sophisticated twelve, and she introduced me to the world of Madonna, Kris Kross, and that "I've found a masterpiece in you" song. She also introduced me to the radio station Q-105. Q-105 is now Q-104.7, and only plays hip-hop, rap, and all that happenin' stuff. But in 1991, it was Q-105, and had Celine Dion and the Red Hot Chili Peppers interspersed with its Color Me Badd and Salt-n-Pepa. Anyway, our life's mission became that of trying to get "on the air" of Q-105. She'd get on her convertible-shaped phone and I'd perch on her bed with the cordless, and we'd dial the number repeatedly. Most of the time, it was busy. Sometimes, it would ring, and ring, and ring, until the mechanical operator lady would get on the line and inform us that she was sorry, but the person we were trying to reach was unavailable. But every now and then, we'd hear a gravelly voice on the other end, greeting us with, "Q-105, this is Bruce!"
But we'd always chicken out before we could ask him if he'd put us on the radio, and instead, we'd settle for the significantly less daring, but still somewhat thrilling, "Hi, um...I'd like to request a song? "I'll Be There," by Mariah Carey? Thanks."
And then, one day, at my house, we decided to DO it. We were mutherfuckin' READY. She got on the phone in my parents' room, and I got on the phone in the kitchen. And we dialed. And it....oh God!...it rang. And....oh dear Jesus...someone picked up!
"Hi!" we said cheerily. "Can you put us on the air?"
The DJ at the other end paused for a second and then replied, "Sure! You ready?"
"Yes!!!" we said!
"Really ready?"
"Yes, definitely!"
"Okay, ready....go!"
Total silence. My eyes popped out of my head. I couldn't think of a single thing to say. On the other phone, I heard Jessica breathing, and eventually squeak, "Um....................hi."
About five more seconds of silence passed, and then we heard the DJ say, "Damn it. They hung up." *click*.
Anyway, I feel like I did at that moment. But I also feel that this has been a sufficient post, so I will quietly duck out of here and make a valiant attempt at doing something constructive about my room.
Postscript: Almost as bad was an incident that occured a year later, when I was nine. On a whim, I decided to return to my roots and call Q-105 to request a song. I dialed...it rang...someone answered....
"HELLO! THIS IS Q-105, AND YOU'RE OUR 105th CALLER!!! CONGRATULATIONS, YOU'VE WON A FIVE-DAY CRUISE TO HAWAII!!!!!!!!!!!!"
My eyes widened; I froze, terrified, and then slammed the phone down and scampered up to my room.
