Whomp, whomp, whomp.

Here we go...

I got a call from my promotions director last night. She said that our sales manager had submitted me for a possible endorsement and that they needed some information from me before the deadline (which was last night) so that's why she had to call me after hours. Well of course I got excited...there's no shame in this game...I'd endorse almost anything. Endorsements mean you get free stuff and they send you an extra paycheck every month just for saying that you like their products/services/etc.

Anyways, I was all amped up about a new endorsement...until she said that I probably wouldn't get it because the company is looking for someone over the age of 40. Ok, now I'm no mathematician but last time I checked, there was a big difference between being 27 and being 40. Am I right? I mean, we're talking a good 13 years (which is basically half of my life span up until this point). So why would they even call me and ask me if I'd endorse some kind of new joint-juice-daily-supplement-stuff? Don't get me wrong, I'd drink that shit everyday and tell everyone I knew how great I thought it was...Mmmmm, tastes just like the nectar of the Gods! I never start my day without it and you're gonna LOVE it too! But the point is, if I'm not what they're looking for and we all know I'm not what they're looking for then why call me and ask me 50 questions about my joint health and how many aches and pains I feel after completing streuous activities?

Got me all excited for nothing. Whomp, whomp, whomp.

Adding insult to injury...this morning we were giving away free buy-ins for this big poker tournament we've got coming up. To give the buy-in away we play a game called "Who's Bluffing Something" where we go around the room and each of the 5 members of our morning show says a statement about ourselves. The first person to get through who guesses which of us is bluffing wins. Simple enough.

Side note about me: I was salutatorian in high school...second place...which most people think is a significant accomplishment...excluding my mom who told me that if I had really wanted to be valedictorian (I lost by one one-thousandth of a point) I could have been, and that I obviously didn't want it badly enough. That was almost 10 years ago and no, I will probably never let that one go.

Anyways, this morning was my morning to bluff.

Jay went first: This is Jay and I am related to Bruce Springsteen.

Then me: This is Reagan and I was valedictorian in high school.

Next up, Wayne: This is Wayne and I once delivered a baby in a hospital parking lot.

Charlie: This is Charlie and I've never had coffee in my entire life.

Juan: This is Juan and I cried like I little girl when I met Magic Johnson.

The callers start calling. Keep in mind, only one of us is lying but all of our statements are kinda hard to believe. Right off the bat, someone calls in and instantly starts accusing me of bluffing. So I say, "why do you think I'm the one who's not telling the truth?" To which he replies, "Girl you're doing your thing and all but valedictorians actually go on to make something of their lives...you know what I mean...they're like doctors and lawyers and no disrespect but if you were that smart you wouldn't be doing what you're doing." Ouch. Stung a little but I'm alright. I was a little bitter so I snapped back, "That's funny because I make more money than my good friend who is a practicing attorney." (No offense, T).

I know most people think we're morons with big mouths and even bigger egos...idiots who are called obnoxious and annoying behind our backs...but to hear it put like that, I'm not gonna lie, it bummed me out a little. After I snapped at him I realized how defensive I must have sounded so I started laughing to play it off like I was joking when in reality, I was being dead serious. Granted, he was right...in more ways than one...I wasn't technically the valedictorian in high school but I came really close. If you were to ask my mom she would tell you that I could have been #1 if I had really wanted it. And after taking a brief moment this morning to lick my wound, I've spent the rest of the day wondering if I really am that much of an underachiever. I mean, really? You would believe that Wayne delivered a baby in a hospital parking lot before you would believe that I am a smart person? Really? No seriously, really?

Whomp, whomp, whomp.

Ready for more? Ok, so after we play "Who's Bluffing Something" we had this psychic come on our show. His name is Gary Spivey and my boss thinks he's ridiculous so he's only on once per month. I took the opportunity to ask him, while I had the chance, if I have a ghost in my house. I'm not saying that I'm definitely a believer in the super-natural but I'm also not a non-believer...I kinda feel like "I can't prove they do exist and I can't prove they don't exist." It might sound silly to some but until I see something with my own two eyes or have concrete scientific proof, I remain skeptical...however, I also don't think that people who have experienced paranormal events are lying. Anyways, my house is old. It was built in the 1920's. I love all of the vintage charm...it has real plaster walls, not sheetrock. It has an ironing board built into a kitchen cabinet. It has a mail slot instead of a mailbox that drops my mail straight into my living room and my garage is almost like a mini-farmhouse. I love it. But weird things happen sometimes. For instance, this a pretty decent-sized three bedroom house. The bedroom at the front of the house (facing the street) is a guest room and I keep the door closed so that the dogs don't go in there and crap on the floor. Well, on multiple occasions that door has opened itself and I'm always very careful to pull it tightly shut so that it won't open again...even if something were to push against it...yet somehow it winds up open. The thing is, it never freaks me out or anything. I just kinda figured that if there were a ghost in my house that perhaps he or she was a friendly ghost and didn't like that door being closed.

When I asked Gary about the ghost today I expected him to say, "Oh yeah...there's a ghost in your house but he/she is glad that you're there and wants you to know that you're welcome to stay." Is that what he told me? Oh no, no, no. He said that I have a Linda Blair panic-attack demon ghost in my house who lays down with me in my bed at night!!!!!!!!! WHAT???????? I was like, ummmmm that's really not funny and he said he wasn't joking. For the second time in one day I wasn't really sure how to react so I made a joke...I said, "I thought my room smelled like pea soup the other night." Everyone laughed, but deep down I was more than a little freaked out. I don't think I want to live here anymore...oh well, one more reason to move home.

Whomp, whomp, whomp...again.