So we took all my correspondence to the Post Office to send my pleas for gainful employment (or totally un-gainful - I'm not picky) winging their way around Huntington this afternoon. The Post Office woman was a hoot. The guy that I called yesterday at the big Recording Studio in Fort Wayne called me back today and said he'd be looking forward to getting my demo... which was, in itself, pretty encouraging. I wanted to make sure that I got it to him in a timely fashion so I wasn't too long out-of-sight-out-of-mind-ish. Sooo.. I asked the post office lady about sending it express. Which would be sixteen dollars. To get it delivered a half an hour away. So then I said, "well... what about Priority? How much is that?" She says it would be five dollars and it would be guaranteed to get there in two-three days. So that seemed fine. So, I said "then how long does it take just sending it plain old cheap regular mail." She looked at me and smiled and said.... "Fort Wayne... let's see... That'll most likely get there tomorrow". Hysterical. So - off all my letters to agents and studios and universities went. Rich had given my University letter a careful going over... I'm not used to writing those kind of letters - and he worked at Columbia for so long he knows how to deal with correspondence in that realm. He had me take out the semi-colons because they were too elitist. I've moved to a place where punctuation is too elitist. For a University. Oy vey.
Rich also felt the letter should take more advantage of my... well... star-fucker-ness. So I named dropped a billion people I've coached and directed and sat next to on the subway. Hopefully it will work.
Jo Jo also went today and I got the paperwork to sign up as a substitute teacher for the local school system. Which is truly hysterical considering Rich and Janice had to spend a half an hour in the car explaining to me the difference between elementary school, kindergarden, and exactly how old you were in tenth grade. See - I went through the British school system. They drop you off at a large unpainted, unheated concrete building at age four and pick you up again at seventeen. And you bloody well like it. The woman at the school-system-operations-central-hub-bunker thing was very nice. She gave me a GIANT packet of stuff for me to read and go through. She said I don't have to have a teaching certificate if you have a certain level of education - so we figure that the MFA and the teaching experience at NYU should be fine... plus I've coached kids for show and stuff. So I'm qualified. Rich was surprised it had that many requirements... he thought a pulse would be more than sufficient, if not optional. I have to take a drug test. Fine. No criminal record. Fine. Say that I haven't molested any youths and some other stuff. And I have to take a CPR course. It's like SEVEN HOURS. So I hope they teach you the important stuff up front... because by the seventh hour I'll probably be rewriting the lyrics to Annie's NYC, humming "C-P-R... what is it about you?" Seriously. So they teach that class once a month and it's this Saturday. At the Huntington Courthouse, which, upon learning, Rich and Janice both exclaimed with great glee..."Hell, you can walk". We just have to decide whether i should do it this weekend because a) Pie-oneer Phestival (although it IS a two day fiasco... i mean fiesta. and b) Janice is here for Sheet-Rock the Casbah. So we'll see. Janice said "Well, Rich, I hope for your sake there's no homework". Rich said "That's what Po's for". Nice. No wonder I drown my low self-esteem in pie.
There is also a long check list of classes you can say you are wiling/qualified (ha) to teach or not. We decided I should probably pass on kindergarten, teaching the emotionally disabled, guidance counsellor, calculus and astronomy. There was some debate as to whether I could wing-it through Home-Ec, Civilizations, Social Studies and a few other. Phys-ed seemed palpably implausable. We definitely took a pass on American History and American Government... considering that when I first met Rich's family I was at Thanksgiving dinner and asked Rich's aunt 'what state Maine was in'.
I fancy myself in the vein of "Goodbye Mr. Chips." The school will most probably focus on the "Goodbye" part.
Jean Anne asked ME (note meeeeee) to do a catering gig with her tomorrow. Mr. Rich-cater-waiter-hot-shot-served-food-to-the-stars was NOT her first choice. Now - this is, of course, because it's just serving and laying stuff out - and when we did the last gig, that's the stuff I did with Jean Anne while Rich was running around driving pork around the entire Indianapolis region. But it made me feel very good to be asked. So tomorrow at ten thirty I am reporting for duty - in my Pork Shirt - to do a catering gig at a Stride Rite factory. It's for like a hundred and forty (child's play, I tell you) and super easy because we don't have the boxed lunches to juggle... it's more a buffet type set up. But no pie. Which, truly, in a different financial situation, might have forced me to turn down the job on principle. "No pie, madam? A shondala! Puh puh puh". Of course... Jean Anne probably doesn't know what a shondala is... so it wouldn't really have much impact.
And, I don't know if I told you that she asked us to do a wedding in a few weeks for her. She's ordered us black Nick's Kitchen polo shirts for that event. It has an embroidered pork sandwich on it. Well, it's a wedding people, and Miss Manners always says "when wearing pork to a wedding... be sure it's embroidered". You HAVE to love that our formal cater wear is a polo neck...but black. It makes sense... i read that Vera Wang discontinued her pork-themed tux line.
Although we were dealing with a bunch of these goofy errands all day, we did manage to finish the subfloor in the kitchen. There was this no-mans-land between the kitchen area and the closet area which had been conveniently avoided because we knew the floor was more bent than Richard Simmons performing "I am what I am" on the Rosie Cruise. But I cut the sub floor plugs (a brand new Jo Jo competence achievement, I might add... applause is welcome), and pack-leader screwed them down.
We called it quits in the workroom to make a trip to Lowes. Ok - it was really a trip to Olive Garden... but we DETOURED to Lowe's to justify it. We wanted to pick up 1/4" drywall (cuz we have a pesky wall level change in one area - and we're hoping the 1/4" will enable us to avert disaster. Or extra work).
The wiener is not feeling great. They told us she might have some bathroom issues after the vaccinations - and she seemed fine for the first two days after - but now things seem to be leaking at a significantly exponential rate. So - tomorrow morning - I'll sling pork, they'll take Po to the vet... and then the sheet rock and roll begins!
BTW Substitutiary Locomotion is a song from Bedknobs and Broomsticks. My blog demographic is getting straighter - I have to explain these things.