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Imagine… Floor Hockey

I just had a dream that I was playing floor hockey with John Lennon. And I won.

I don’t need a technicolour dream coat to tell me what this means…

Or maybe I do. What do you think that means?

I should mention that I didn’t just win… I was running circles around the guy. I actually tried to let him catch up to me because I felt bad for him. The only move he had was a decent poke check.

I’m not even that good at floor hockey. But compared to John Lennon, I was like Disney Stars on Ice. And he was like Napoleon Dynamite on acid.

I totally respect how John Lennon changed the face of music forever… but when it comes to floor hockey, I just ate his lunch and popped the bag.

Can you Sound More Black?

Today I had an audition for a voiceover commercial. Voiceovers are great because you don’t have to worry about how you look. You can be droopy eyed and ugly jean’d and the microphone will still love you. This particular gig was easy because it was only one line. But I have learned- there are no small parts, only small actors. I walked into the studio determined not to be a small actor.

I slipped the headphones on, adjusted the microphone for my height and we got down to business. I delivered the line a few different ways, varying my pitch and tone to show them my range. The director stopped me after take three.

“Can you sound more black?” He asked.

Now that is ironic.  I just finished shooting a documentary film about race and identity and this seemed like a scene from the film.  “What does black sound like?” I wondered. I decided to play along. I did the line two more times and apparently I got it wrong because the director said, “Try grabbing your balls as you say it.”

I burst out laughing and said, “No one has ever given me a note like that.”

“Yeah!” he said, “That sounds black. Do it like that. We’re rolling.”

I was baffled. I didn’t know whether to be amused at this poor guy’s ignorance, or offended at his idea of black culture. We did it a few more times and then he said what directors say when you don’t get the part:

“OK we got lots here. Thank you.”

I left with a smile on my face. Why oh why did I not have a camera with me today?

I’m still baffled… should I be amused or offended?

The World’s Most Embarrassing Injury (Part 2)

This is the second installment in a story of shame. For part one, click here.

I met the most lovely Doctor yesterday. He was an African man, probably in his sixties. His wisdom, his warmth, his soothing voice… it made me want to talk with him forever. He looked in my eyes with deep concern when I told him that I hurt my shoulder.

“Tell me what happened,” He said with his beautiful African accent. I felt like I could tell him anything. I told him that it all began as an innocent guys night out… that my competitive nature had gotten the best of me… that things got out of control in a smash-mouth battle of Wii Table Tennis.

“Did you say Table Tennis?” The doctor asked.


“Ah! Parlez-Vous Francais?” He spoke with excitement.

“Ummm, No. Wait- not Oui. Wii.” I was confusing myself.

“I am having trouble understanding,” He looked at me with concern, “You are an athlete?”

“Umm… not exactly. Its… Nintendo…”

“Nintendo?” He looked puzzled, “The children’s game?”

“Yeah… Well no… Sort of… Wii… Oui…” I stammered like Colin Firth.

He looked at me like I told him I wet my pants in his office chair. All of the kindness and concern was gone. “Let me get my associate.” He said.

I was passed off to a registered massage therapist who slowly wrestled my shoulder into submission for 30 minutes. Then I paid my bill and left.

Am I the only person out there who has sustained an injury this embarrassing?

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