The Last Nine Years

I walked into the 4th floor restroom; my music lit professor was in the room and washing up.

B: "Jarom!"

Me: "Yes?"

B: "This is going to sound sarcastic, but has this room always been here?"

Me: "Uh, Yes..."

B: "Oh!" "It isn't new then..."

Me: "Not really, It's always been here."

B: "Oh, ok." "Do want to know when I discovered this room?"

Me: "Today?"

B: "Today..."

He turned to walk from the room but I had to react.

Me: "This is going to sound sarcastic back, but how long have you been here?"

B-very crisply: "Nine years."

Ne're do the Nair

Here's a little gem of a story. All names have been changed...

Brad and I were sitting in the front room, unable to watch television or do anything more than worry about love lost, when he asked, "so, dude... ever think of going hairless?"

me: "uuhmmm ... what?"

Brad: "Yeah, I'm gonna try it."

He retreated into the bathroom were he remained for a few minutes. When he returned his arms were in the air and there was a strange substance under his arms.

"So what is that?"

"It's Nair, I found it in my stuff."

I wasn't sure what to think; stranger things had happened... often.

15 minutes later...

"This stuff kind of burns man."

"Maybe it's time to wash it off?"

"Yeah..."

Once again he retreated into the bathroom and returned a few minutes later, his arms still well above his head.

"Dude, this stuff really burns!" "It burns and the hair didn't even come off!"

"Whoa, you're all red!"

Basically, it didn't work how he'd envisioned. Lifting at the gym was painfully funny for the next couple weeks.

The moral?

Year old Nair and underarms don't mix.

Let Him Die...

Do you ever plan something special for someone? Someone older... really old, and senile, and sweet all at the same time?

That was the plan on this special day just before Christmas. There were four of us; Soprano, Alto, Tenor and Bass, and we were in a special care facility for Alzheimer's patients.

The basic idea was this:

Sing to the dears, make their day, and go home feeling warm and fuzzy.

We got this:

-Carpets soaked and squishy from water that came from a frozen/broken main in the ceiling.

-A limited audience of perhaps 12 of the patients who didn't have family who cared enough or perhaps were not able to take them home while the facility was repaired.

-A complete lack of preparation on our part that forced us to sightread from a hymnbook.

We did reasonably well, and the dears seemed to be enjoying the music that is, until we started to sing Ring Out Wild Bells...

"Ring out wild bells to the wild sky. The flying cloud, frosty light."

(good so far...)

"The year is dying in the night..."

(*whimper* from one of the old ladies)

"Ring out wild bells and let him die."

(another whimper and a shaky "Oh MY!" from another one.)

"The year is dying in the night, ring out wild bells and let him die!"

It was at this point that the song started to slow down, a lot. One old lady whimpering caused another and another until the cascade effect had most of the poor dears scared out of their wits.

And yet... we sang on....

It was not the highlight of my year.

Oh well; at least Vinny didn't seem too broken up about the whole thing. He was very vocal as I waved good by to him and his nurse with a smile on my face.

"Oh shut the hell up!" says Vinny.

Merry Christmas to you too...

Sitcom a Day

Here is where you will find a real-life story... several real-life stories as a matter of fact. They will all be true, unadulterated and unexaggerated snippets of lives well-lived.

Enjoy!