Thursday, November 29, 2007

Microphone Madness Part Two

Here it is: the story I promised of my own microphone addiction. Although none of you expressed the slightest interest in it, I still feel compelled to share. I'm like that.

I was never a shy child. I was never anywhere near a shy child (Except when I was in the company of my best childhood frenemy Jennifer, with whom the competition was fierce. Sadly, she was the oldest in her family, while I was the fourth in mine, so my mom didn't care as passionately about the "competition" as her mom did. I was pretty much lucky just to not leave the house with my hair done via toothbrush. Her brand of superiority could make me feel pretty shy).

If there was a church program where all the kids got to use the microphone, I'm pretty sure I was in heaven. I wasn't one of those kids who yells into the microphone, though. Oh, no, that's an amateur's mistake--I was a pro at microphones. I loved everything about microphones (still do actually) but my favorite kind of microphone was the kind that has a cord that you could flip about and coil up in your hand. It made me feel like a lounge singer. Or a motivational speaker. Or a TV presenter.

One of the summer jobs that I had was as a youth camp counselor at a church program. One of the great joys of my life as a counselor was that I got to use a microphone when I taught a class. I don't really remember what I taught my class about, but oh, I remember the feel of the microphone in my hand. However, I do know these were spiritual classes--classes that were meant to inspire young girls to want to be better people.

During one "session" (in Florida, I think) the rooms were kind of small, so we had three different groups of girls and they would rotate around the different classes and so we ended up teaching our deeply inspiring classes three different times. And. I. Got. To. Hold. A. Microphone. THE. ENTIRE. TIME.

Well, due to a timing snafu, my group of girls had already exited my room. The next group was running behind, and so there I was. Alone. With my microphone. Plugged in.

I took a deep breath.

Lady, I crooned lovingly, I'm your knight in shining armor and I love you.

(I'm a big Kenny Rogers fan. Well, at least I was before he became a poster child for overuse of plastic surgery, but still.)

You have made me what I am AND I am YOURS! (For honesty's sake, I feel compelled to tell you that I can't sing. Especially not with a microphone's reverberation. But does that stop me? Oh no, it does not!)

LAAAAA-DEEEE! In your ARMS, I see no one else but Meeeeeeee!

I was going for it. I was hitting the high notes. I was jiggling that microphone back and forth to give me fake vibrato action. I was Kenny Rogers (well, except for the obvious gender differences and the hopefully obvious plastic surgery differences, and you know, the fact that he can sing and I can't. But aside from that, I was Kenny.). I sang that song into the ground (I don't have a great memory for lyrics, so I really only knew like four lines from the chorus, but I sang them over and over). I owned that microphone, and I owned that room.

"HEY!" Out of nowhere (well, okay from behind a desk) pops up this fourteen-year old girl's head. "Hey! What are you doing?" She looked at me like I was crazy. She was right.

I uncoiled the microphone cord carefully from my hand. I dropped the hand that had been doing a dang good impression of Mariah Carey's hand flutters, you know the ones that mimic her vocal stylings. I stared at that little fourteen-year old girl with wide-eyes. Caught in the act of some serious narcissism.

"Oh, hi." I say, into the microphone, as though in this room with just the two of us, I would still need vocal magnification. I just can't lower a microphone of my own volition, however. You have to pry them out of my attention-seeking hands. "What are you doing?" I'm trying to redirect this conversation in a way that doesn't include an explanation of my self-absorption.

She had been feeling sick, so she had gone to sleep in the back of the room. She told her counselor about my "little moment". Who told all the other counselors. Who thought it was hilarious. That's okay, though. Because somewhere out there, there's a fourteen-year old girl who seriously loves Kenny Rogers right now. I'm pretty sure that means that I achieved my goal of being deeply inspiring. Right?


Leisha said...

Hold on, let me catch my breath...

Classic. You're a hoot!

(I love the "frenemy" comment, that is SO true about those young friendships!)

Jen said...

I was deeply inspired. And even though I laugh at pretty much everything this week in some strange pregnancy induced joy, (maybe baby's sense of humor is developing?) I think that I would have laughed just as hard if I were in my normal state of semi-sanity.

Celia and Scott said...

LOL! Were you an EFY counselor? How did I not know that?

That is a classic story that should be told over and over. In fact, this year I just may gather my family 'round the Christmas tree and tell them the story of the narcissistic, microphone-wielding cousin of mine INSTEAD of the traditional boring Christmas story. That'll teach 'em a thing or two about what Christmas is all about.

Amy said...

you are so apart of our next karaoke deeee~

Texas Mommy said...

You are so funny! I love reading your blogs.

Sue said...

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! I love this. And it's SO something I would've done. hee hee {{still giggling}}

Sibri said...

Hey Heid

Thanks for reminding me about this story! Love it!!!! I'm gonna be smiling all day now ;0)

monkie mama said...

Must . . . catch . . . breath! Belly . . . hurts! Sides . . . cramping!

You have no idea (well, being Heidi, maybe you do) how hard it is to type this, one handed, from the floor where I've collapsed due to my laughing fit.

I cannot wait to see what you teach those primary kids at the next primary sacrament meeting! Think Kenny Rogers solos are appropriate for church?

I'm definitely feeling inspired. Go Kenny Go!!!

Anonymous said...

This will be telling my age! I had a college roommate addicted to Tab. She woke up one morning a real mess (she would drink 5 or more a day) and out of
Tab. She knew herself what the problem was. Being LDS (of only a year) I tried to explain the Word of Wisdom in a non threatening, non religious way to her. She actually did work to break the habit. I also have my own personal story about certain "addictions" as a non-member, even though I wasn't the addict, I will probably "blog" it someday.