The Bible says, “Whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever doesn’t involve an emergency room visit, think on these things.” (NIV). My mind doesn’t really know the meaning of discipline, (Training that corrects, molds, or perfects the mental faculties or moral character) so the things I’m thinking on don’t really make the biblical cut.
Recently my mind has been occupied with trying to find three-inch rubber chickens, and an upcoming podcast. Will I be able to figure out the camera thingy? Should I have a bookcase behind me? Should I remove my Cootie bug and Gumby and Pokey from said bookcase and stock it with leather bound editions of National Geographic? If the camera only sees me from the waist up, do I really need pants?
I haven’t heard a recording of my voice in years. Is it still going to sound dorky, or will it now just be old and dorky? Can you edit out any loud farts during the podcast? These are important considerations, people.
My son decided that I needed help preparing for the interview, so he made up some sample questions:
How many nuns can you fit in a phone booth … and why?
If you were a lamp, what kind of lamp would you be … and why?
Have you ever been in a Turkish prison … and why?
Eight, gooseneck, and it was actually a Finnish bathhouse, where I had to watch my grandma scrub out her belly button. Close enough.
Thus, properly prepared for my interview, I can move on to other considerations, like a cover story for my daughter, who slipped in a puddle of dog urine while getting out of the shower Saturday, and knocked herself out cold. We’re thinking of going with bathroom ninjas. Now if I can just come up with a cover story for the UPS man, as to why I’m getting a box full of mini-rubber chickens, I’ll be golden.
I’ve never done an interview, and even if I had, I’m fairly certain that my tongue would instantly grow about 3 inches thick, be pasted firmly to the roof of my mouth and all that would come out would be a bunch of gobbledy-goop…yeah, best to leave the interviews and podcasts (whatever they are) to the professionals.
I see the definite possibility of forgetting my name.
You’ll be fine…
I mind like yours has infinite resourcefulness…
Just remember to knock over a salt shaker and quickly throw a bit of the crystals over your left shoulder…
Or, is that the right shoulder???
What are the dire consequences if I get the wrong shoulder?
Uuuuummmmm….
I can’t remember…………………………………..
I can’t stand the sound of my own voice.
I don’t understand how I can talk all day and not realize how stupid I sound.
Karla, just be yourself. Don’t change anything. They’ll love you.
I spent too much time during my years in conventional publishing trying to be something I’m not (classy). It’s no fun.
Now you’ve got me thinking of how many nuns I can stuff into a phone box.
I occasionally hear my own voice on an answering machine, if I’ve taken it after the machine picks up. It’s weird to hear.
You are going to Rock the Podcast. Simple. That’s all there is to it. End.Of.Story. I’m looking forward to being right. So Fail is not an option.
You will Dominate!
Where’s your whip?
Terri
P.S. Oh wait……wrong blog. I was on my way over to Madam Gilda Schliterbaun’s site. So strike the whip question, will ya? Oh yea, and the Dominate part.
Just never mind. Rock the Podcast and forget you know me.
hehe
You crack me up!
Great post. You’ll be great. Just imagine your audience naked. Never mind that might make you queasy. P.S. What were the rubber chickens for?
I’m making bookmarks with rubber chicken “tassles”. This is my version of a brilliant marketing concept.