Saturday, December 13, 2008
Flip is recording today.
"I have an idea for the vocals," he said.
"Hiring me?" I squealed.
"Well, you can try out," he said.
"But, but, I know the leader. I'm with the band. Won't that get me in?"
"I'm sorry, Miss, you'll have to audition like everyone else."
"What 'everyone else' are you talking about?" I asked.
"They will come," he said. "You will see."
"And YOU will see that I am the best of all. Plus, I live here. Doesn't geography count?"
"What are you going to call your band?' I asked.
"How about Flip and the Flipettes?"
"Ewwww." Extending crossed fingers to ward off vampires. "I will not be a Flipette. In case you hadn't noticed, we're way past the 50's."
"Flip and the Flipette?" Hopefully.
"It sucks, ok?"
Even longer pause.
"You could call it 'Susan, back-ups by Flip.'"
He looked at me in disgust, and maybe a wee bit of admiration for my chutzpah.
"Or just 'SUSAN' like Cher and Charo. And Madonna." I was on a roll.
Flip shook his head in disbelief, eyes turned upward just like my mother used to do. Great. He's channeling my mother who was born with a silver cross in her back.
Bless her heart.
I lived in the South for years. My favorite Southernism is "all y'all" used as a possessive pronoun as in "Do these be all y'all's horses?"
But I am also especially fond of "Bless her heart" as piously employed by Southern ladies immediately after trashing other Southern ladies, as in "Mah neighbor is a no-good ho' slut who lacks the brains of a head o' cabbage, bless her heart."
You can say anything about anyone as long as you follow it with "bless her heart." Like crossing yourself at the door to a church. Or warding off vampires with garlic. Those three little words are your insurance policy, your hall pass, your get-out-of-jail-free card.
Without them you could appear mean, and nobody wants that.
So I need to prepare my audition number and a great outfit. Yes, I know it's a recording session, but a great outfit would be a terrific morale booster.
First I need to lay down some rules:
'Less he be hirin' me, he be singin' the Blues all by his lonesome. In the rain. Uh huh. Uh huh. Ain't no way in. Ain't no way in. Ain't NO WAY in.