I'm in the position to volunteer my services. For free. To keep me relevant and away from the daytime television gods. I've done my work and will continue to plug away. Tomorrow, I'm headed to the Big Smoke to do some reading. Outloud. It's an audition for VoicePrint, the organization that provides voice recordings of news articles, textbooks and books to the visually impaired. It should pan out. After all, I did earn my balls on college radio.
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| So that's where I left my balls... |
I'm not paid in balls, though Boyo the Boxer would like this. Forget about testicles too. I already have them. My radio instructor told me so. You may be aware that I used to be shy. Really. Seriously. I had a soft voice that would come out even softer when in the spotlight. Forget public speaking. Ears would strain to hear my vocals. That is until my second year of college when I had to take to the airwaves to deliver the news that I and my classmates re-wrote from the newspaper and wires for radio consumption. Every Friday afternoon one of us would take the stories written by our peers and deliver them to the masses. It didn't matter that it was Friday at 4:30 and most students were gone. We were the radio gods, or in my case a semi-god. After afternoon upon afternoon of soft speech and the radio techs turning my mic way up, something changed. It was my voice. It was clear, succinct, beautiful. And full of balls. Judy the instructor hugged me, and to commemorate, presented me with fuzzy balls to hang on the rear-view mirror of my non-existent car.
I have no fear tomorrow. I will read the news or whatever tomb they present to me and I will be clear, concise and testicle-strewn. Because once you've found your balls it's hard to misplace them again.
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