Kool-Aid Wishes and Oreo Dreams

Prompt of the Day:
When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up...

Adults are always asking little kids what they want to be when they grow up because they're looking for ideas.

~ Paula Poundstone

As a wee lass, there were two things I wanted to be when I grew up. One was a weather girl. Yes, in those days, there was such a “job” as being a weather girl. I figured I could stand, point, wear fabulous clothes and tell people to either head to the beach or take an umbrella with them. I did give some thought to the science of the weather – I could tell a cumulous from a nimbus. And always was able to see the bunny rabbits and Santa Claus in the cloud formations when I was sunbathing in the back yard.

And then Janey went off to college and in her very first spring, met Intro to Meteorology. Not a match made in heaven. More like in the horridly hot exosphere.

One semester, several blown-off classes and many pre-test all-nighters later, the dream of being a weather girl was dead. That’s D for dead, if you catch my drift.

The other childhood dream job – and one I still fancy periodically – is to be a talk show host. In the mold of Merv Griffin or Mike Douglas. Along with game shows (God bless the Game Show Network for giving me my fix of Match Game, Tic Tac Dough and the various financial incarnations of Dick Clark’s Pyramid), talk shows were part of my regular telly viewing, especially in the summer time. Both urbane and unpretentious, the classic talk show was a venue for witty repartee, knowing banter, some unguarded goofiness and glamour glamour glamour. And I wanted to be a part of it. To ask the questions. Laugh. Be a little provocative. Host one hell of a lively – and live – on cameral cocktail party.

Times changed, though – and so did the talk show. Things are slicker now, more scripted and less free-wheeling. But I still hope that somehow fate will see fit to point me in a direction where I can be a raconteur with Regis (does he even need a last name?), share a chuckle with Richard Simmons and perhaps sing a little with Nathan Lane.

Check your local listings for dates and times.

When they tell you to grow up, they mean stop growing.
~ Tom Robbins


Ruprecht said...

Shoot Rupe if he ever grows up.


*applauds Janey's posting*

bronsont said...

Hummm, I can see you in Ellen's chair, you'd be FAB!