I have my new phone number officially now, thanks to Ian’s technical wizardry and constant misplacing of multitool. So the official contact information is as such:
And, unsurprisingly, there’s a story to go with it. On Friday (not, however, the morning as per their arrangement) the BellTM man came and supposedly hooked up my own not-to-be-shared-with-not-wanting-to-share-housemate phone line. However an inaugural call home revealed the Call DisplayTM info pertained to the surnominal title of the aforementioned housemate. Evidently Bell Man had failed to protect the correct wiring of telephones the world over. I went to tell JayeTM about this “snafu” (if you will), and that a long distance call to London would likely appear on his phonebill and that I would gladly reimburse him for said call. He seemed rather taken aback by this situation and very concerned that I was accidentally connected to his phone-line, even going so far as to (hopefully jokingly) suggest legal action against the phone company. So it was clear he wanted this situation rectified, but Ian felt he could straighten it out without calling BellTM and risking long waiting times or exorbitant charges. This was haltingly accepted by Jaye, though he was very insistent that he’d really rather I didn’t use the phone already hooked up in my bedroom for local calls, and that it would be much preferable that I go upstairs and request the use of our vertical neighbours phoneline, rather than risk interrupting the viriginity of his phoneline he claims to barely ever use. I asked if this was because he didn’t want to miss God calling, and he jumped on this opportunity and agreed passionately. But I could tell he wasn’t being entirely open with me. There was something else going on. But what would life be without a few little mysteries? So the denouement of our story occurred this evening when Ian did some mystical rewiring that resulted in my phone being connected to my line and Jaye’s being connected to his.
On Friday (oooh what a busy day ’twas!) I also ventured out of my basement to go to a big house party full of mostly strangers. Even though I couldn’t find any mixers and ended up drinking long island ice tea mix straight (a trip to the beer store is in order) it was a good time. I ran into a guy who turned out to be named Adam and looked familiar, and we established that I’d probably seen him at the Silver Mt. Zion show earlier this year. It turned out he has a show on CFMU, and when I made known my aspirations in that direction he invited me to come on his show on Tuesday the 28th at 8am. The plan at this point is to play some Decemberists and Ted Leo/Pharmacists and discuss their undeniable awesomeness in great detail. Adam also demonstrated knowledge in music that makes mine seem very limited by comparison, and very good taste (he is also fully onboard the arcade fire train), and he’s also in a band which I’ll have to check out at some point. So that was all pretty exciting based on me wanting a radio show more than almost all other things. They say it’s all about who you know. I also didn’t audition for the Fall Major (a feminist musical with one male part), and didn’t not get a callback. If for some reason I had auditioned, I might have sung I Was Meant For The Stage by The Decemberists on account of it seeming appropriate, falling within my range, and its lyrics being mostly known to me.