Friday, January 05, 2007

Three-Four-Nie-yun, please.

I was having a conversation this morning in which the topic of "your dream job" came up.

This person allowed as to how the job they had at that point was pretty much a good fit, and, after snorting in derision and mocking them for a moment (silently, for this was IM), I commanded them to dream bigger, because, please, saying that you HAVE your dream job leaves no room for improvement or, more importantly, fantasy.

Fantasy is important when it comes to dream jobs.

Fantasy is what allows someone like me, with only a year or so's worth of experience in the medium, to claim that my dream job would be to host a nationally syndicated radio show in which I talk about stupid stuff and offer people advice and clown around with people I think are interesting.

THAT, my friends, is fantasy.

I'm so totally SURE I could do it too! Why, all I'd have to do is grab a cupla two tree mics and get some antenna time, toss together some conversational ideas, then start calling up the folks on my guest list.

Which would include YOU, my friends and fellow bloggers. Yes, YOU.

Who wants to be first on my fantasy radio show?

I'd let you pick the topics; though of course a significant amount of the time on the show would be spent with me trying to find out more about YOU, because YOU, after all, are a fascinating creature in you OWN right, so you'd have to be prepared for that. You could also bring your favorite music to play in the background, and I'd let you maybe even demand some outrageous green room food so that you could totally be all "dude, I ordered this bowl full of blue M&Ms becase I am a RADIO TALK SHOW GUEST and I am popular and cool and powerful as they come, yo" (the yo would have to be added for 'hood cred. Yo.)

Wouldn't you like to do that?

I sure would. Yep - radio talk show host - that's my dream job. I'd be willing to work the hours and make guest appearances and shill products I haven't used, if that's what it takes. I would allow the PR people to plaster my grinning mug across transit busses and on billboards if that was necessary. I'd accept the adulation of throngs of fans and endure the flashbulbs of a thousand paparazzi, if the opportunity presented itself. Yes, I'd do all that for the radio talk show host spot.

You know, the fantasy NATIONALLY SYNDICATED radio talk show host spot.

OK, I have to admit that I'd take something on satellite. Like Bob Dylan has. Or Howard Stern. They're doing OK with that venue, right? I thought so. So, yeah, satellite would be fine. I could pre-tape. That would be cool.

I can see it now......sound checks and script reviews with the engineer (must get one of those), shuffling "bits" with the writers (must get some of those), exchanging pleasantries with the producer (must check in to availability of one of those)....everyone in the halls assuming that air of quiet reverence as I pass, my skin glowing from the facial I just had to prep for the Vanity Fair photo shoot I have with Annie Leibowitz after the show, my bottle of Evian waiting for me in my spacious office (get one of them too, while I'm at it), the personal assistant (again, look into getting one of them too) briefing me on the day's activities, the guests for the day lined up and waiting in the green room, nursing their hangovers from the "preshow" party the night before, the hustle and bustle JUST before the red light goes on above the studio door.....and the theme song starts to play as we slide into place, adjusting headphones and mic positions, clearing throats and taking that last sip of water before the engineer points the finger to....."GO"....

I can see it now, and it is glorious.

THAT'S a fantasy job, my friends.

What's yours?

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