|
Guinea Thespian
By Bill Zahren
Posted 02/02/99)
Just this very second, thanks to the incredible
mobile functionality, serviceability, scalability, manageability
and TV watchability of my portable PC, I'm lying on my couch
at home writing these very words. 150MHz of mobile work equipment
empowerment -- striking.
My eldest and first in line for the empire,
Haley, and I are now finding ourselves amused by Alvin and
the Chipmunks. Either we've got some serious studio voice
altering (known as "sweetening" in the voice business. I'm
such an insider!) or the Chipmunk voice actors do enough helium
during a recording session to make a big screen TV float.
The audio cherry atop this Americana sundae is the chittering
of Haley's guinea pig, Pee-Wee.
It occurs to me that Pee-Wee should try out
for the Chipmunks show. He's got a nice smile, can scarf down
orange pieces with the best of them and makes noises like
Alvin, et al. I just posed the possibility of an acting career
to Pee-Wee, who is now sitting on my upper forearm. The pig
was noncommittal.
I suspect Pee-Wee already has an LA agent who's
been coaching him to stay cool in the face of all offers.
Right after we saw the white mouse star in one of Budweiser's
SEVEN Super Bowl ads, I think Pee-Wee got ideas. (Confession:
When the guy in the commercial said, "It's go time," I almost
wet myself.) If a white mouse can do it, why not a white guinea
pig? And while Pee-Wee appeared to spend Sunday night in his
cage, I'll have to check my phone bill for any midnight calls
to LA agencies.
While we've swerved over to the Super Bowl ads
for a second, it would not be a bad thing to work at Goodby,
Silverstein & Partners in boring old San Francisco, or at
Open Minds out in mundane Laguna Beach, CA, about now. Those
agencies came up with the Bud ads that blew out everyone in
the Super Bowl Ad Face-off. You can't imagine the pressure
for results when you're spending $1.6 million of a client's
money every 30 seconds. The Bud Team kicked twist tops and
took born-on dates.
The fact that Pee-Wee is sitting on my arm
(perhaps waiting for his Screen Actor's Guild card to arrive)
at 9:25 a.m. on Tuesday should in no way distress my co-workers.
Sure, I should be dutifully typing away in my cube. But instead
I'm lying here with a guinea pig nested on my arm.
I've noticed Pee-Wee's left ear twitches when
I type, perhaps because he can feel my forearm muscles moving.
So I am now messing with him, typing really fast and then
stopping suddenly to see if his ear stops when I stop. Oh,
he's good. Pee-Wee has skills. If he starts singing, I'll
be on the non-stop from Omaha to LA in the morning. The chipmunks
are gone now and we've changed to VH-1's Pop Up Videos. Offspring's
Pretty Fly for a White Guy video just came on. It cries out
to me to be included in the play list I do for our office
hold music. But, I think the "give it to me baby! Uh-huh,
uh-huh" among other lines would not make the bosses think
I was fly, even for a white guy.
You may have figured by now that I have a sick
daughter. I'm fine, she's sick, hence the stream-of-consciousness
look inside Bill's sick kid duty. My wife had to work and
I, theoretically, can write anywhere, I drew the Tending the
Kid duty. I should be writing the annual report, a couple
of little speeches, some online pages, the random hunk of
product copy, maybe an employee eval (raise your hand if you
far exceed expectations!). But, after the 16th "Daaaaad, can
I have. . ." I've given up for now and instead I'm lying here
writing about what's on TV and speculating about PW's life
as an actor.
OK. I'm getting up now. If I do actual work,
I might be able to save the PTO day. That will be up to my
far-exceeding supervisor. If Haley doesn't hurl into the sink
again tonight, she should be good to go back to school tomorrow,
probably just in time for princess Jena (the other half of
my Tag Team of Daughter Terror) to get sick. Maybe I should
get Pee-Wee some voice lessons. What do you think, Pee-Wee?
Is biting my shirt a "yes" or a "no"?
Actors. They're so temperamental.
© 1999 Bill Zahren
Printer-friendly
version
-- end --
|
