Me, I'm the one genius in my family who decided to forgo the teacher's life in favor of the thrilling world of small-town radio. Tenure? summers off? benefits? Regular raises? No dumb phone calls at 2 in the morning? Feh.
The usual radio nomad's life of pulling up roots every two years to move hither and yon, that was not for me when I was younger, and it sure as heck isn't for me now. So the chance of Stern-level money landing in my lap is about the same as that for the Reds winning the World Series this year and every year until 2023. And yet the children insist on having pants when they leave for school in the morning, the little ingrates. Something's gotta give.
Bottom line: I'm beating the bushes for additional giggery and I'm turning first to voice-over work since I've come this far running my yap for a living, and voice work is something I can do sitting on my tuches here in the kitchen. I started on this new path earlier today by spending the entire day in beautiful downtown Schenectady, hobnobbing with people whose mighty pipes could shatter granite from 20 miles off. Repeatedly I opened my mouth to introduce myself and out came this feeble mewl that make the guy from Scritti Politti sound like Barry White.
Y'know, this guy:
More to come soon on this