Spit happens

The trombone is not glamorous. It's a great hulking piece of metal that tends to produce unflattering sounds. Usually, the trombone is pushed to the back of the orchestra, but we have yet to figure out if this is due to the musician or the instrument itself.

A few weeks ago I participated in a performance of Dona Nobis Pacem. This particular performance combined both the UNCSO and the Carolina Choir. The poor choir was forced to stand behind the percussion and low brass.

Now in my experience, choir members know next to nothing about brass players. It's not their fault. They mean well, but unfortunately, every instrument foreign to them (which is all instruments) must be a trumpet.

Choir Kid (CK): "Oh! Is that a trumpet you're holding?"

Band Kid (BK): "No. It's a tuba." 

CK: "Is that a trumpet?"

BK: No. That's a trombone."

CK: "Is THAT a trumpet?"

BK: "My lunch? No. That is a sandwich. Not an instrument."

CK: "What about that?"

BK: "Trumpet. Thanks for trying to be friendly, but just go back to your choir. Here's a lozenge.

Now, out of a group of choir members, only about 10 percent will be brave enough to talk to the instrumentalists like in the conversation above. The rest seem to think that we are a group of savage beasts that will kill anyone on sight. Maybe the percussionists are, but the trombones are just socially awkward. Social initiations towards a trombonist are met with what is often interpreted as a glare, but really it's a bewildered blank look like a deer in headlights. That's what trombonists are. Deer in headlights that don't know how to respond.

Appearance To Chorus Members Vs. Reality.

Perhaps there are other reasons than unapproachability contributing to the avoidance of trombonists. It is my personal belief that hygiene is a huge factor.

Brass instruments are breeding grounds for bacteria. All sorts of nasty gets stuck inside a trombone. Bits of food, soda, and coffee are not uncommon finds in a horn that is rarely cleaned. The combination of these substances can make a horrendous smell come from the horn. A smell such as this drives many people away.

The smell of the trombonist must also be taken into account. More often than not, boy trombonists do NOT know how to properly bathe. This leads to an even worse smell when the trombonist is combined with his instrument. However, it should be known that girl trombone players, such as myself, do not tend to have personal hygiene problems and are, in general, extremely good looking (see the blogger profile picture).

But no matter the gender, most trombonists do not properly care for their horns. This causes social embarrassment and shunning from everyone. Not just chorus members. The difference with chorus members is just that they don't always know to avoid a trombonist when they first encounter one.

I noticed something else when I participated in that combined rehearsal. The chorus members became increasingly more disgusted with our water keys (A.K.A spit valves).

Understand that the spit valve is a source of great fun for trombonists (and the occasional tuba player). Nothing is more satisfying than holding the trombone high in the air and releasing the valve in a way that allows the spit to make the biggest "splat" possible. Many competitions have been held. Achieving the "splat"
truly is an art form.

I've seen tuba players play a different game...

Tuba 1 (T1): "OK. I'm gonna release this valve and we're going to see who can "pee" the longest."
Tuba 2 (T2): "Ready, Set....GO!"
The tubists hold the instrument between their legs and release the valve. The spit falls to the floor in a steady stream. 
T1: "Dang! You beat me."
T2: "That's because I poured water down my horn before we started."
T1: "Ha! good one. Got any more? We should put it down that trombone sitting on the chair."

But what probably disturbed the chorus members the most was that no matter how many times we explained that it's "just condensation", they couldn't get over the fact that some of our "condensation" (it's totally spit) was brownish-green.

I'm sure my middle school band director would have horrified them more had they heard his plan to keep a cup full of the entire bands spit for one unlucky person to drink when they forgot their music on a stand.

Basically, the idea to combine a choir and orchestra is wonderful in theory. There is no denying that the sound is unparalleled (when the orchestra isn't too loud). It just is not fair to the chorus member to have to watch what goes on in the back row. They can't handle it. And to be frank, the trombonists can't handle the gagging noises coming from behind. Let's put the chorus up front. They'll appreciate it for multiple reasons. Partly because they don't have to watch the trombones, and partly because as singers, they like having the spotlight.

Maybe we could clean our horns better. Maybe we could clean OURSELVES better. But one thing is for sure. Spit happens. Nothing can be done about it.

And to return to my opening statement. So what if the trombone's a great hulking piece of metal. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang was too, and look how it turned out. Fantasmagorical.

-The Socially Awkward Trombone

Neglected

Everybody knows Beethoven's 5th symphony. Everybody. It is possible that some do not know it by name, but the "dun dun dun duuuuuuun" is instantly recognizable.

There are even jokes about the 5th. 

What's Beethoven's favorite fruit?

Ba-na-na naaaaa!

If a piece of music written in 1804 can be referenced in today's fast-paced, pop-music centered world, it must be pretty significant.

So guess what!? The UNC symphony orchestra has decided to play it our next concert. It's gonna be great, everyone's excited about it, it will probably generate a lot of revenue, the trombones don't play until the last movement...wait. What?

Let me tell you how Monday's rehearsal went.

First, the orchestra ran through Dona Nobis Pacem. It had a few tacet movements, but there were some good brass parts to make up for it. Cant complain. It's pretty typical of orchestral works. Especially when they include chorus.

It was then time for the Beethoven, and the trombones assumed the position. Our principal trombone pulled out his new iPhone and looked at God knows what. Our second began pretending to read a book for class (let's be real here, everyone knows that trombonists can't read). The bass trombonist (me) began wildly scribbling words on a sheet of paper with her eyes closed for her script writing class (this process is known as "outlining" to a bass trombonist). Our trombones laid sad and neglected on the floor with spit pooling around the mouthpieces.

The first movement turned into the second, the second to the third, and the third to the fourth when suddenly, two bars into the fourth movement, everything came to a crashing halt. The trumpets burst into fits of giggles and the conductor looked at us with a face that said "I'm not surprised. This is kind of funny but I don't want to encourage you so I'll try to put on a mad face instead of a happy one". We had missed our entrance. Quickly, we picked up our poor neglected and freezing trombones, and the fourth movement was started again. We bumbled our way through the fourth movement, and rehearsal ended with everyone knowing that the trombones had missed their entrance. Awkward.

The conductors reaction brings to mind a quote by the famous Richard Strauss.

"Never look at the trombones, you'll only encourage them."

How right he was. I just wish that he hadn't shared that quote with anyone. It seems that every conductor has taken this quote and adopted it as a personal philosophy. Now the trombones sit in the back row, and hope that SOMEONE will look at us with an approving glance.

Actually, I think social awkwardness in the trombone section could probably be blamed completely on Strauss. Of course trombonist are awkward. they've been treated as if they don't exist for their entire lives. Do you have any idea what that does to one's social skills? It's makes them a complete and utter disaster.

This is what I like to call the Strauss effect.

So you see? Maybe the trombonists were born with a hidden awkward gene, but it probably wouldn't have been activated if it weren't for Strauss. He knew that if he gave the trombones an approving look that they would take it as a cue to play louder and crazier than ever. As a result, he made generations of trombone players have conversations like this:

T1: If you bought a blue pBone and I bought a yellow pBone, would that make a green pBone?

T2: I think so. Yeah.

T1: Sweet! Green is a booger color!

So all of you conductors out there be mindful. You could be contributing to this horrible wrongdoing. 

Oh, and who needs wall street protests. Here's a new movement from the perpetually neglected society of trombonists. 

-The Socially Awkward Trombone

A Guide to Socially Awkward Chicken

In this blog, I would like to start by examining a text that I received the other day from a good friend of mine. It illustrated a perfectly wonderful socially awkward situation that he had just experienced.

It read:

"Socially awkward: having a vegan coming up to you at lunch asking for signatures to get more vegan food on campus when you have a mouth full of Chick-fil-a and half a chicken on your plate." 

Now I don't know how my friend handled this situation, but I know him well enough to assume that he was very polite and nice to this vegan. He probably signed the petition and then asked the vegan about his/her cause even though it probably did not interest him in the slightest (Oh, and to the friend who sent me this text: Am I right? Or am I right?). 

That is not how a trombonist would have or should handle a situation like this. Trombonists should avoid as much social interaction as possible. Basically, just try not to speak. If a trombonist was chewing a Chick-fil-a sandwich with a large chicken on his plate and was approached by a vegan petitioner the following guide would be necessary.

A Guide to Dealing With Vegan Petitioners When You Are Eating Meat

(specific right?)

Step 1. Stare at the vegan unblinkingly for exactly 27 seconds. Just don't stare right into the eyes. It's much better if you look just over the shoulder or above the forehead. 

Step 2. Then, without breaking eye contact (or the trombone equivalent of almost staring into the eyes), slowly lift the entire chicken to your mouth and take a large bite.

Step 3. Leave the chicken in your mouth, but return your hands to your sides.

The vegan will leave. You just made him/her quite uncomfortable without saying a word. Maybe it is not something to be proud of, but a trombonist must learn to embrace the fact that there is probably no hope of making through a situation like this. Having the petitioner walk away probably causes the fewest problems. 

Let us imagine for a moment that the trombonist engaged in conversation. 

Vegan (V): "Hello. I am passing around a petition that will ask the university cafeteria to serve more vegan food. Would you mind signing it?"

Trombonist (T): "I can't write."

V: "Oh. Well. Um. OK. That's fine I guess... how do you get into a university without being able to write?"

T: "You want some chicken?"

V: "No thank you, I'm vegan."

T: "Oh. OK. Vegan? Does that mean full or something?"

V: "Would you like some tofu?"

T: "No thank you. I'm vegan."

The confusion is never-ending when the mouth of a trombonist is sputtering its usual gibberish. So if you are a trombonist, just remember to refer to steps 1-3 when dealing with vegan petitioners. Do NOT speak. At this point in your life, if you are unable to carry on a socially acceptable conversation, you must seek out other means of dealing with people. This guide is those "other means". Quit trying to be something you're not. You are not a social butterfly, you're a trombonist. 

If you must talk, go hang out with some trombone friends and talk about the history of the spit valve or something. Just make sure you avoid normal people. 

-The Socially Awkward Trombone

The Socially Awkward "How Are You?" Part 2.

Those of you who read my first "Socially Awkward 'How are you?'" post know how much I loathe the phrase "How are you?". It is not a particularly disagreeable phrase, it just serves no purpose. Maybe there was a time when it did serve a purpose, but I doubt it. It is far more likely that the "How are you?" served a porpoise, as it is pretty useless in the English language. For us humans, it remains a small talk starter and conversation filler for those who want to tell you all about themselves.

Porpoises benefit greatly from the serving "How are you?" 

I do not use the phrase because I usually have no interest in your response or telling you about my day. If that sounds rude, it's because it is rude.

Having said this, you should know that I used it today. That's right everyone, Becca Clemens said "How are you?" after bashing it in her first ever blog post.

 I wish I could tell you that I have changed my ways forever. Or that Becca Clemens has joined the ranks of people who repeat socially acceptable phrases on a daily basis. Alas! I cannot. I am a trombonist, and therefore, you can count on me to mess everything up. Do you know what happened when I said "how are you?" today? Do you? I bet you don't.

You probably think that this happened.

Trombonist: "How are you?"
Person: "Great. I woke up this morning and got dressed and BLAHBLAHpicklesBLAHBLAHMr.GoodbarBLAHBLAH! How are you?"
Trombonist: "Good." *Walks away*

While that is a perfectly good example of a socially awkward trombonist conversation using "how are you?", it is not what I experienced.

I saw someone I knew sitting down in the direction I was headed. This person is a nice person that I don't know extremely well, but definitely someone who is nice enough to talk to. As I got closer, he said "Hi" and then I said "Hi" as a response.

And you cannot fathom what happened next.

WE SAID "HOW ARE YOU?" AT THE SAME TIME!

I really don't know what came over me. I guess the sun was in my eyes...

This led to neither of us giving a response and an awkward giggle. Then I continued to walk.

What was I supposed to do? Had I used my usual reply ("good"), I would have been answering my own question. Because we said "How are you?" at THE SAME TIME. THE SAME TIME! I couldn't answer myself could I?

I don't know what made me say the dreaded phrase. Maybe I wanted to appear nice and caring. Whatever the reason, my attempt at socially acceptable etiquette backfired. I would expect nothing less. But this pretty much seals my taboo on "How are you?". I gave it a few tries, and when my ear is not talked off, I have to experience excruciatingly awkward circumstances.

So some advice to the socially awkward trombonists out there:

Don't say "How are you?". Just get to the point. Be as awkward as you like, because the minute you decide to ask it, you will become even more of a social outcast.

-The Socially Awkward Trombone

P.S. Sorry I am so overdue. I feel like such a slacker. Must be the bass trombone. At least I drew a porpoise.

Soap Is NOT Funny

I have another childhood story.

When I was about four years old and living in California, I was a typical little kid. And when I say typical what I really mean is that I wasn't playing the trombone yet. I enjoyed riding my bike, watching the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and shooting dolls out of their houses with the pirate ship cannon. Dad even named the Fischer Price dolls for me. The dad was named Fischer Price, the mom was named Pearl Ofgreat Price, and their baby was named Half Price. The pirates had many victories. Dolls are boring.

Anyway, that shows a little glimpse of my dads type of humor. He's an astrophysicist, so he has to be sophisticated. There was no way in heck that I was going to understand that the doll names were jokes. I just thought dad was giving them typical doll names.

Now MY humor was something totally different. It was far from sophisticated. It was deafening and damaging. Distinct and disturbed. Dramatic and dysfunctional....

NOTHING is funnier to a four-year-old than "poop".

One day I was jumping up and down on my parents' bed. Those of you who knew me as a child know that I was the crazy hyper kid as well the kid that thought she was really funny but wasn't. At all. Basically it shouldn't come as a surprise that I was crazily jumping on my parents' bed.

After about 5 minutes of crazed jumping, my dad walked into the room.

Me: "POOP!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!"
Dad: Not laughing
Me: "That was really funny so he must have not heard me. POOOOO-OOOOOOOOP!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Dad: Calmly "Rebecca?"
Me: Still jumping "Yes?"
Dad: "Could you sit down for a moment?"
After a few more champion bounces, I reluctantly sat.
Dad: "Rebecca, can I ask you something?"
Me: "Yes."
Dad: "Why is poop so funny?"
I was stunned. Did he really not know why POOP was funny? It's a hysterical subject because...because...because?
Me: "Well...it just IS daddy. It's really funny."
Dad: "But why? Why is it funny? It's just a word for disgusting things that come out of our bodies."
Me:  giggles.
Dad: "If poop is so funny and it's just a word, why can't something else be funny? Why cant 'soap' be funny?"
Soap? SOAP?! Did he say that? But it's just NOT funny. Again, a good explanation escaped me.
Me: "Because it's just not."
But why couldn't it be? My father had me stumped. It was an excellent point. Why wasn't soap funny? I needed to figure this out.
Dad: "OK, I was just wondering" Walks out of the room.


Now he left me to my own thoughts. I pondered and pondered. I just couldn't figure out why one word was funnier than the other. It has been a puzzle that I have yet to solve.

The end result of this moment with my poop-joke-hating father was that I no longer used poop as a joke. I don't think he knew what this did to me. He probably did not expect a child to actually think for a long time about this life-destroying question he posed, but it ruined me. I locked that kind of humor away and thought that if one day I found the answer to his question I could bring it back out.

From then on, I became more sophisticated in my humor. But I'm not saying it became any more sophisticated than the other four-year-olds. I still thought cartoons were funny, and I still thought my dad was funny (he didn't like poop jokes, but he really did know how to make a kid laugh. I STILL think he's hilarious), and I still enjoyed it when people put shoes on their ears and underwear on their heads. The poop jokes just ended.

My life was lived in this state until it came time to pick a band instrument at age 10. I think my subconscious picked the trombone as revenge. My body had been deprived from potty humor for so long that it was drawn to the instrument that sounds the most like flatulence.

Not only did it sound like flatulence, but all the kids who picked it were the awkward ones who still enjoyed potty humor. I picked the trombone and joined the socially awkward kids. Maybe if I had been allowed to release my potty humor to the world as a child, I would have picked the flute and eventually outgrown band. But alas! I did not, and I blame my father. My father who also happens to be socially awkward. Thanks dad. You ruined me and doomed me to a life of social awkwardness where I must continue to release my suppressed and poopy creativity through trombone. But the joke's on you. You're the one paying for my college degree in trombone performance. The degree that won't allow you to get old because I can't afford a nursing home on a band directors salary. If only you hadn't asked that question...

Maybe I should ask you.

Daddy? Why can't soap be funny?

-The Socially Awkward Trombone

Ages Are Awkward

In some ways, asking someone's age is like asking a fat person when her baby is due... It probably shouldn't be done. Awkwardness will most definitely ensue.

One must be delicate when inquiring another's age. Trombonists are not known for being delicate, so I have decided to create a guide to requesting ages for the average everyday socially awkward trombonist. It will include pictures. 

Between the ages of 0 and about 23, age is not a difficult topic to discuss. It is often "cute". Kids make a big deal about their birthdays and are used to parents proudly shouting "My child is turning 11 today!". Kids also use their age for making excuses.

"I'm 2 years old. Do you really expect me to put my shoes on?"

 After the age of 23 or so, people begin to become ashamed of their aging selves. When prodded for their age, an older person will elude the question with an answer like "Old enough." or "Too old to count". 

The odd thing is that eventually, if a person becomes ancient, age returns to an acceptable topic of discussion. It is suddenly impressive. Those that are 99 years old become quite proud of their age and sometimes even regress to using it to their advantage. 

"I'M 104 YEARS OLD! DO YOU REALLY EXPECT ME TO PUT MY SHOES ON?!!!?!?!?"

Unfortunately, until the 24 year old reaches 99, they spend much of their time trying to look younger. This is why they don't wan't their age exposed. Adults think that if no one knows their age, they may be able to pass off for younger than they are. This is why many adults love getting carded, but let's face it, the cashier knows you're old. You just looked like you were having a bad day...Anyway, age is a tender topic of discussion.

This should help explain things.

How Request Someone's Age Without Being Socially Awkward

0-23 Months

It is very easy to find out the age of a baby. Typically the mom was planning on telling you anyway. All you have to do is say 

"AWWWWW how old is he?"

The parent of the child will give you the age in months. Why? because it's more impressive and they want you to say something like:

 "WOW he is really big and healthy for his age."

Unfortunately, the baby was not a he. Age may not be difficult here, but gender is. Try asking something like

"How old is your baby". 

Keep gender out of it. You never know you've encountered psycho mom until a mistake like that is made.

2-12 Years

This is a tricky age group because it is difficult to tell the difference between a 9 and 12 year old, but it is usually easy to tell that the kid is not a teenager. With this age group, always guess on the high side.  The kids often can be older than they look. Guessing too high will be flattering to them, while guessing too low is a great insult. 

Trombonist: "How old are you? Seven?" 

Kid: "NO! I'm eleven! Why does everyone think I'm little!?!?!"

Smart Person: "How old are you? You must be at least 12?" make sure you're dripping with condescension here. It's fun because the kids have no idea.

Kid: "No." giggles and laughs. "I'm four."

Smart Person: "Wow! you look so much older than that!"

13-17 Years

 

This is the "cool" group. Those who are aged 13 to 17 probably want nothing to do with anyone, but still like people to be impressed with how old they look. This age group requires a little more subtlety than the previous age group because these guys tend to detect condescension. They're teenagers. They live off of condescension and sarcasm. This makes them easy to identify as in the 13-17 age range. Also, look for braces and acne.

If you just ask their age, you will probably receive a shrug as a reply. Skip the age inquiry. You're a trombonist, offer them some beer. A lot of times they will say:

"Woa! I'm only 15. Did you think I was 21?"

Just say yes.

If they try to take the beer, backpedal a little bit and say:

"Wait a second. How old did you say you were?"

They'll be a little flattered before returning to a brooding state, but they will give their age.

18-23 Years

I drew a bear.

This is the group you should probably just leave alone. People who look 18 are often actually 24 years old or older. You don't want to ask a 24 year old their age (see previous statements). Remember, the goal is to be delicate.

It is stupid though. If a 24 year old can still be mistaken for 18, they don't need to be worried about their age. It shows how vain people are. Fortunately, trombonists are too clueless to care about age and wrinkles. Hence this post. I'm looking out for the trombone population. You are now one step closer to being less socially awkward. 

This is a trombone. Not a person. Do NOT try to ask it how old it is. It will not respond. Also, you cannot marry it. It IS socially awkward.

-The Socially Awkward Trombone

Socially Awkward Silences

I would like to address the elephant in the room. You know, that big awkward silence you and I are experiencing right now? Actually, that particular silence is much larger than an elephant. I would prefer an elephant. An elephant would easily break the awkward silence in the room due to its large and rather blundering nature. Not to mention the trumpet it has built into it's nose. Speaking of trumpeting elephants, why do we relate trumpets to elephants and not the trombone? Probably because trumpets are loud and annoying. Like an elephant. Seriously, what is more irritating than an elephant? But I digress.


Because I am an amateur, most of the concerts I have played have required the band to be on stage before any audience members walk in. We use this stage time to warm up.Warming up is different for every section. 


The flutes will practice the least important parts of their music: trills. It is the goal of every flute player to be the center of attention even if they don't have the melody, which means that the trills have to be loud. Really loud.Trumpet players generally try to see who can play the loudest and highest. Why? Either because they want to destroy their lips before the concert or because they need yet another ego boost. The oboe(s) (preferably no "s") will attempt to tune for no apparent reason. The euphoniums make gurgling noises through their instrument because it's fun, and then look around arrogantly. The clarinets don't play their instruments. They do math problems on the their music stands. The tubas try to see how many shoes they can fit into the bell of the biggest tuba while someone plays it. The bassoons chat with each other in Wookiee...or maybe they're just trying to play their instruments. The percussion beat everything in sight as loud as they can. The horns practice off-beats without a metronome. Trombones spray each other with their spray bottles (those things aren't really for slide maintenance). I don't know what the saxes do. I try to ignore their existence. 

Basically, it gets REALLY loud in the auditorium or theater or whatever. 


Usually, when the audience begins trickling in, the band warm-up routine does not stop. In fact, it tends to get louder because the flutes want to hear themselves over the chatter of the crowd. Utter chaos begins, and the audience is happy to sit through the mess until the concert because parents will listen to anything. 


the band gets louder
                      and LOUDER
                             and louder
                         and LOUDER
                             and louder
                         and LOUDER

                            AND THEN SUDDENLY,

silence

A fish could drop and everyone would hear it.

The crowd looks up expectantly, but the conductor does not walk onto the stage. Upon examination of their respective timekeepers, the audience realizes that the show doesn't start for another 7 minutes. Yet the silence lingers and no one is brave enough to break it. 


This puts everyone in an awkward position. The audience is wondering when they can start chatting without appearing rude, and the musicians are hoping that SOMEBODY! LORD! ANYBODY! will begin to continue warming up. 


After about 30 seconds of the most excruciating awkward silence imaginable, a tuba lets out a large BLAT. This brings the grateful band back to it's warm up routine.  


Six minutes and thirty seconds later, the conductor walk onto the stage and starts the band. The concert is wonderful no matter how bad the band plays because everyone is remembering the awkward silence that preceded it. 


So maybe the silence only happens to really bad bands. It's a defense mechanism for a bad concert. It reminds the audience that they could be sitting through the most painful silence in the world if the band stops playing.


By now the reader has noticed that there has not been a conversation in this post yet. I don't want to disappoint, so here is what trombonists talk about during the 45,969,643,223,456,6fj,skfjgusj67ww9fsf4fs5r measures of rest they have at the beginning of every piece they play.


Trombone 1(T1): "Do you think I could fling this booger into the audience from here?"
Snarky Euphonium Player (SEP): "Do you think you could possibly be any more immature?"
Trombone 2(T2): "Dude. Try and hit my mom."
Trombone 3(T3): "No. Go for the sound guy."
T1: "But that seems like such a waste..." looks admiringly at the booger and finally eats it.
SEP: "Ewh."
T2: "Awesome!"
T3: "Was it good?"
T1: "Ehhh. Average."
Tenor sax turns around to remind the trombones that they enter in 2 measures. 
Trombones ignore him because it's fun to make saxes angry. 
Conductor doesn't notice that the trombones did not enter.
Euphonium glares at trombones.
T2: "You think you could find another one for the tenor sax?"
T1: Digs in nose. "Yep."

That concludes this post. I hope it was utterly horrifying.

A few announcements:
1. I got a twitter. SAWKtrombone is the name.
2. Musicians need a side hobby, so I'm testing one out. Model ship building. I don't know why I told you this.

-The Socially Awkward Trombone

What Trombonists Hear

When the 6th grade band director first hands out music, trombonists learn quickly that they don't frequently get the melody or really anything difficult to play. Because of this, they don't feel the need to pay attention when the band director starts teaching the basic rules of reading music. In the mind of a trombone player music is simple; everything can always be louder, correct rhythms are optional and accurate notes are impossible.

Throughout these beginner sessions, the awkward trombonists sit in the back row making spitballs and participating in other activities that tend to be brought on by the inability to sit still. Why listen to boring stuff when none of it applies to them?

 When it's finally time for the band to rehearse, trombonists play their whole notes with questionable accuracy, but no one notices because the whole notes were added in when the composer realized he had forgotten to write the trombone section a part. Not even the band director notices. Poor neglected souls...                              

All of the other students in 6th grade band pay attention. They have to. Not only are they in the front row, but the musical demands on them are high. The melody must be heard at all times and it must be played well. Because of these musical demands, everyone but the trombones learn all about dynamics, rhythms, and sound. And thus, they are prepared for anything.                              

When high school band comes around, trombonists see 8th notes for the first time and don't know what to do. Eventually they come up with a solution known as the "just fake it". It's pretty self-explanatory. Basically, if something is too hard to play, play the "Jaws" theme. Not only does this tactic make them worse musicians, it makes them appear even more socially awkward to everyone in ear shot. The rest of the bandies learn 16th notes and play them admirably.

Unfortunately high school demands a lot more than rhythms and notes, and when the band director begins spitting out words like "legato", the trombones are left wondering why he is talking about French cats living in Spain during band class.

But still they remain unmotivated to learn more about music and are oblivious to the meaning of just about every musical term even through their college and professional careers.

Here are the many awkward ways that trombone players misinterpret rehearsals:

-Trombone players think that espressivo is a delicious caffeinated beverage.

-First day of band:
Band Director: "I am a conductor."
Trombonist: "Our school's budget is so tight we have to hire people off of trains?"

-As far as trombonists know, a reed is a plant that grows near water.


-Director: "TROMBONES! You have slides! USE THEM!!"
Trombonist: "How could he possibly know that we ALL have playgrounds in our backyards?"


-When asked to play piano (the dynamic), trombonists will jump out of their seats, throw down their trombones and begin pounding on the nearest piano.

-Director: "We are going to play a canon."

Trombonist: "Civil war reenactment! YES! Field trip!"

-The term "you are flat" is highly offensive to female trombonists.

-Director: "It's time to play a Carol".

Trombone Section: Stares at Carol in utter confusion. Carol is not a band instrument or type of song. She sits in the third row.

-When a trombone section is asked to "check the key", they pull out their car keys and stare at them for hours trying to figure out what's wrong with them.

-Director: "OK everyone. It's time to play scales"

Trombonist 1: "We're going to weigh ourselves?"

Trombonist 2: "No. Play scales. that means we're going to play a game with scales. Whoever weighs the most wins!"

-Trombonists often wonder why March is the only month that ever gets played. 

-Trombonists know that the "tonic" the band director talks about tastes awful, so they wonder why everyone else seems to like it. In fact, they all seem to hang around the tonic like it's some awesome hang out spot that trombonists never get invited to.

-Director: "This song is in a minor key."

Trombonist 1: "Hey remember when we were minors?"

Trombonist 2; "Of course. Never stopped us from getting alcohol did it?"

-Whenever the director uses the word "beat", trombone players turn to their closest neighbor and begin to furiously beat on them. 

So yeah, trombonists tend to be screw ups. They are neglected too long as beginning band students and grow up to be socially awkward ADD noise makers. But its OK. There are people who exist that do dumber things. The French for example. They think the word "trombone" means "paperclip". Dummies. 

-The Socially Awkward Trombone

The Top 10 WORST Locations to be Holding a Trombone

Maybe these things bother me more than most people, but while I was in Albuquerque with the band this year, I found myself in one of the most socially awkward situations I could ever think of. We were in the New Mexico Lobos basketball stadium for the womens basketball tournament. It was a great game (we won), and the stadium chicken fingers were excellent, but unfortunately after the game I found myself to be in a situation where I needed to use the bathroom.

"Unfortunately? doesn't everyone have to use the bathroom sometimes?" you ask.

Yes indeed. Everyone uses the bathroom and I can proudly say I have no problem using the bathroom. I am quite proficient in the realms of pottying. Public restrooms don't even bother me much, and this stadium bathroom was brand new and sparkly clean. In many ways I am blessed that I am not, as my friend calls it, "pee shy". Meaning that I can go to the restroom if other people are in it.

So no. The problem was not the bathroom.

The problem was the what I had to bring with me to the bathroom. That dastardly thing that brought me to Albuturkey in the first place. The object that is often the center of my life and this blog. Yes my friends,

THE TROMBONE

Trombones and bathrooms don't go together. A trombone is not commonplace in a bathroom (or anywhere else for that matter). It isn't hand sanitizer or toilet paper, and although hot air comes out of it, it can't dry the hands that it did NOT wash. In a public restroom, the trombone is just altogether AWKWARD.  

Walking into a bathroom with a trombone begins with false hope. You think that maybe no one will notice. But upon approaching the door, that hope is crushed. Everyone is staring at you. The weird kid that brings a trombone into the bathroom. You put your head down at the proper trombonist angle and walk quickly towards a stall and avoid eye contact but you can still feel the stares. Once in the bathroom, you are faced with the dilemma of where the trombone should be placed while going about your business. There is the option of holding it the entire time, but that seems dangerous. You finally prop it in the corner where the stall meets the wall. Hopefully it won't tip over. The sound of metal on the floor would be greatly magnified with the bathroom acoustics. 

You leave the bathroom stall, and the stares from the patrons of the potty become unbearable. You can almost hear their thoughts...

How could she have possibly gone to the bathroom with that thing?

What is that? And why is it here?

Yuck! I bet that instrument's covered with germs.

Whatever that thing is, it's not a taco. Therefore, it should not be here. (This person probably has more problems than the trombonist. There's always one.)

Who brings a trombone into a bathroom?

And then suddenly,

"MOMMY! WHY DOES SHE HAVE THAT THING IN HERE!?!?!?!?!?!?"

Oh children. Always ready to say what their parents will not. 

You make your way to the sinks and lay the trombone across 2 of them. The other restroom patrons wait patiently for you to finish washing your hands. They think if they get too close that they could catch the crazy too (except the taco girl. she just goes ahead and washes her hands alongside you). Finally you leave. You soak up a few stares from people watching you come out of the bathroom and run to the bus, thanking God that you don't know anyone in Albuquerque. 

After experiencing the Lobos bathrooms with my horn, I got to thinking about all of the other places where having a trombone would be socially awkward, so I compiled a list for you. Here are the "Top 10 WORST Locations to be Holding a Trombone" for your enjoyment. I have not included bathrooms in this top ten. You already read how awkward it is.

The Top 10 WORST Locations to be Holding a Trombone

10. Iowa: The only thing allowed in Iowa is corn and the occasional Golden Corral.    


9.  A Courtroom: "Guilty of social awkwardness!" Can you imagine a random jury member just holding a trombone through the trial? Or maybe the bailiff?

8.  TV: OK, I understand that it's a paying gig but seriously? Did you see this?

7.  DMV: This place is awkward enough. A trombone would make it unbearable. And there's no way you're getting your licence renewed if you look like a crazy kid with a trombone.


6.  Boot Camp: Physical activity and the trombone aren't friends...

Typical Trombonist

5.  Doctor's Office: Innuendo aside, a doctor's office is a place for healing. Encounters with trombone players tend to be traumatizing.


4.  Bowling Alley: Try bowling while holding a trombone. I bet you'll fall down.


3.  Fancy Parties: Parties are already awkward due to their rigid social rules. Socializing is hard enough to do without holding a trombone. Add the trombone and you're a guaranteed outcast.


2.  A Library: A library is a quiet place. Do you really want to draw laughter from people in a quiet place?


1.  Public: Let's face it. Trombones aren't really socially appropriate in places where they can be seen.

-The Socially Awkward Trombone

The Socially Awkward Musical Mode Creature

This is a post for my musically inclined friends out there. If you don't understand it, fear not. I will be putting up another post in a couple of days that everyone will be able to understand. Actually, if you don't understand this you should be relieved. This topic is reserved for only the most socially awkward. This means that those of you who have not heard of this topic are not the most socially awkward beings on Earth. Clearly the most awkward beings on Earth are...

 Musicians. 

There are times when we musicians have to learn musical terms. Theory classes are notorious for grinding words like "subdominant" and "anacrusis" into our brains. And although trombonists don't understand what is going on half the time (look at our final exam grades. yeesh.), ALL musicians try to come up with easy ways to remember the many terms that are unsuccessfully and maliciously pounded into our skulls by teachers that have the personalities of Voldemort.

To avoid the green death light that shoots out of the eyes of my teachers (fortunately they don't have wands to wield), I have come up with a few ways to remember terms because my memory is the black hole of memories. Some techniques of remembering are more awkward than others, but my favorite involves the 7 musical modes.

As you probably know, the 7 musical modes are

Ionian
Dorian
Phrygian
Lydian
Mixolydian
Aeolian
Locrian

It is best if they are remembered in this order. Unfortunately for many, this is difficult. I have a solution. It's a little awkward.

In high school decided to find one sentence that helped me to remember the modes. I decided to make the first letter of each mode stand for a word in the sentence (there's a term for this, I just don't feel like remembering it) because IDPLMAL was not easy to remember either.

This is what I came up with:

I
Don't
Play
Like
My
Awful
...
wait for it
...
LOCRIAN!

There were two "L"'s in my mnemonic device (I remembered the term). HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO REMEMBER WHICH ONE WAS WHICH!?  The only solution was to find a way to use one of the actual modes that started with "L"

I picked "Locrian"

Fortunately it took me no time at all to figure out what a Locrian was. Obviously it was a living creature, and that creature instantly presented itself to my mind. My awkward trombonist mind. Here's how I depict it by hand...

How could anyone possibly come up with a more awkward creature? I will never look at modes in the same way.

As awkward as the creature is, it is even more awkward explaining it to people. In fact, I never told anyone about my mnemonic device until this year. I don't know why my senior year foresight didn't transfer to college. I should have remembered that I knew putting my Locrian on display would cause the typical social humiliation. After showing it to one person this year I was reminded that unleashing the strange inner workings of my mind was a bad idea.

Friend (F): "I just can't remember the modes and what order they are in! I always get them mixed up!"
Trombonist (T): "Hmm. Can I draw you a unicorn rhino moose to make you feel better?"
F: "No. but I would really like it if you knew a better way to remember this stuff."
T: "Well I have a way...would you...would you like me to show it to you?"
F: "Please! and feel free to draw a unicorn rhino moose."
T: "Well, remember it as "I don't play like my awful locrian.""
F:  Stunned silence. "Really!? That's utterly ridiculous and super awkward!  I'd rather fail than remember that!"
T: "And this is a Locrian" Draws Locrian.
F:  Hysterical laughter that draws the attention of anyone in a 100 foot radius.


I vowed never to tell anyone about it again. Until now...

I have exposed my awkwardness to the internet. To the theorists around the world: please laugh this off and don't blacklist me for musician jobs.

-The Socially Awkward Trombone

The Awkward and Unexpected Meeting

Unexpected meetings are some the most terrifying events for trombone players. Trombonists need time to prepare socially appropriate and engaging topics of conversation, because the ability to use small talk was never bestowed upon them. Generally, the unexpected meetings cause the trombone player to scramble for a conversation starter in the hopes that the conversation will be normal, but the conversation always comes back to topics that no one else wants to talk about.

The scenario and conversation:

A trombonist is walking happily down the street while listening to some Joseph Alessi. A quick glance upward reveals that an acquaintance of the trombonist is about 100 meters away and walking in the opposite direction. It is inevitable that they will pass each other soon. The trombonist waves and says hi, but realizes quickly that the distance between them is too large to have a comfortable conversation. Unfortunately, because the trombonist said "hi", the acquaintance is obliged to say "hi" back (see "The Socially Awkward "How are you?""). This starts an incredibly awkward long distance conversation that ends approximately when an adequate talking distance is finally reached.

80 Meters away
Trombonist(T): "Hi"
Acquaintance(A): "Hi"
70 Meters away
T: "Aren't we...having...uh....lovelyweathertoday?"
A: "It overcast and raining"
60 Meters away
T: "Right. Well, are you looking forward to the weekend?"
A: "It is the weekend."
50 Meters away
T: "Of course it is. How is your pet lobster?"
A: "I don't have a pet lobster."
40 Meters away
T: "Did you know that bagpipes were originally made out of the whole skin of a dead sheep?"
A: "What?"
30 Meters away
T: "Bagpipes. They were made out of dead sheep. Like your dead lobster. Only a sheep."
A: "I told you, I don't have a pet lobster."
20 Meters away
T: "Well yeah, I guess if he's dead..."
A: "I HAVE NEVER OWNED A LOBSTER."
10 Meters away
T: "Must have been someone else."
A: "Must have been."
Comfortable talking distance.
T: Awkward silence and continued walking.
A: Awkward silence and continued walking.


Upon experiencing this situation multiple times, the trombonist will (most of the time) develop a particular defense mechanism. This defense mechanism requires a change in walking posture. While most people walk with their head up and their eyes forward, trombonists learn to walk with their heads down. This technique keeps the trombonist from seeing an acquaintance because the pavement becomes the main focal point. It is incredibly effective because it weeds out the people who are difficult to talk to, and if an acquaintance decides to grab the trombonists attention it is because the acquaintance has something to say to the trombonist. This allows the conversation to run smoothly because the trombonist didn't pick the topic.

Now don't think that trombonists are the only people who have figured this out. Although trombonists have awkward conversations, there are many others who have learned how walk with a lean to avoid social disaster. To illustrate this, I made a diagram.

Understand?

-The Socially Awkward Trombone

Conan Knows

Conan knows all about socially awkward trombone players.

The Socially Awkward Trombone Poem

Just to be clear, I have never been a big poetry fan, and I do realize that I'm probably missing out on something. So many people find poetry beautiful and inspiring, but I have to admit that Shel Silverstein has been the only poet that I took great pleasure in reading. I don't hate poetry or anything, I just don't really get it. Maybe i'm not "deep" or something...

Having said this, I will now present an original trombone poem by yours truly. It is still a work in progress, but it is the first poem I have written that was not for a school assignment, and I can promise you that when I started the blog I never thought I would put a poem here. I just had the dumb thing pop into my head while I was playing late in a practice room. Weird things happen during 2am practice sessions.



The Socially Awkward Trombone Poem
by Rebecca Clemens

Band directors call it condensation,

But trombonists know that it’s spit.

Some say trombone’s our vocation,

But rarely do we commit.

We sit in the back and tell jokes,

Pretending our horns are light sabers,

Laughing when a soloist chokes,

And harassing our trumpeter neighbors.

Our horns are used for experiments,

Growing mold that’s black, blue, and green,

You look upon mold with resentment?

We see it as pretty darn clean.

The noises we make are improper,

So cover your child’s ears.

We could use mutes as a sound stopper,

But you’d have to hand over some beers.

And have you looked down at our feet?

We can’t tie our shoes.

We’re a little off-beat

Prob’ly from all the booze.

(Have you noticed this poem changes meter?

Just like trombonists often do.

We can’t read key signatures either,

Which makes us all sound like poo)

We love yelling loudly and playing with fire,

Hooray! For a huge conflagration!

If you ask us, we’re always for hire,

If you can risk your reputation.

We’ll even play events free,

If you’ll give us some food.

We’re desperate, you see?

It doesn’t have to taste good.

We don’t want real jobs,

Trombone works just fine,

We aren’t music snobs,

We just want a good time.

Mom and Dad are still wondering

What they did wrong

To end up with a blundering

Trombonist that plays for too long.

They wonder if they will ever be rid of its sound.

If their kid will move out before fifty.

They look for trombonist jobs and ask around.

What they find looks downright shifty.

We’re very easily side-tracked

And we like staring at shiny things,

We’re louder if we’ve snacked,

Watch out or we’ll make your ears ring.

But one thing’s for sure,

We’re all proud to play.

It’s our key to a cure

For long crummy day.

-The Socially Awkward Trombone

A Socially Awkward Childhood

It's been way too long since my last post, and I apologize for my tardiness. I spent four awesome weeks traveling with the men and womens basketball teams (If you don't already know, I'm in the UNC band). My travels included going to Albuquerque, NM and Spokane, WA and I was having waaaaaay too much fun to even think about writing a blog post. But I'm back.

Since I have only been covering socially awkward situations that happen to everyone, I have decided it is time to share a personal story about my awkward childhood antics. There were many.

I know what you're thinking,

"Becca, how could you possibly have had an awkward childhood? You're so normal."


OK...maybe you aren't thinking that. I'll pretend. Here goes.

Before I even knew North Carolina existed, and before the thought of playing trombone had ever crossed my mind, I lived in California and attended kindergarten at a school called St. Phillips. At St. Phillips we were taught to read and write pretty early and were periodically asked to write stories that would later be read in class. My class would be led to the computer lab about once a week, and we would write our stories.

Because I have always lacked an imagination, I would briefly search through clip art before writing my story. Finding a picture to write about helped me come up with a few ideas (after a while, I only searched through clip art to kill time, knowing full well that I would use the same picture as before).  At the time, I was aspiring to be an astronomer just like daddy (I have since realized that I can't do math or physics). So naturally, the first thing that I would type in to clip art was "space".

This was always my favorite out of the pictures that came up.

After choosing my inspirational picture, I would then begin to write my story. There was only one problem...

No one ever taught me to use the space bar.

onceuponatimtherwasanaleinnamedbob.bobluvedtocokhotdogswithhisastronatfreindjoe.onedaytheywercokinghotdogsandbobexploded.theend.

Roughly translated to:
Once upon a tim ther was an alein named Bob. Bob luved to cok hot dogs with his astronat freind Joe. One day they wer coking hot dogs and Bob exploded. The end.

My stories always happened to be way too eloquent for my teachers. So eloquent in fact, that one day, after a few attempts at starting to read my awesome stories, my teacher called upon the author to translate. It was then that I realized the awesomely constructed story, one that rivaled Ralphy Parker's "What I Want for Christmas" theme, was illegible.

I stood paralyzed at the front of the class trying to make out the words of my story, unable to figure out what went wrong. This was about as traumatizing as it gets for a four year old. Not to mention EXTREMELY awkward. I couldn't read it. No matter how hard I tried. Eventually I gave up and hung my head as a walked back to my little piece of carpet where I would listen to the rest of my classmates' stories.

The next few trips to the computer lab I continued with my same story writing techniques and was called up to read my story at least one more time. I was so embarrassed that I resolved to figure out what was wrong with my stories the next time I went to the computer lab.

I picked out my alien picture and then took an awkward peek at my neighbors keyboard (I'm pretty sure she noticed. Awkward). She was hitting this big button at the bottom of the key board an awful lot. I decided to press it too. The cursor moved forward, but there were no words. "SPACES!" I thought. That was what my story was missing. I needed to put space between the words. From that point on, my stories were legible. My teachers read them and I beamed with pride when the class laughed at my story endings that were usually "he exploded". Thank goodness for kindergarten humor.

To this day, I don't know why I had to figure out the space bar myself. Most teachers would probably have corrected me after my first illegible story, but no one did. In the long run though, all of this turned out to be beneficial. Since then, I have had no trouble talking to groups of people because now everything I talk about is prepared. I have not yet encountered anything worse than getting up in front of people with a story that can't possibly be read.

And that's one of my many awkward childhood stories. Hope you enjoyed it.

-The Socially Awkward Trombone

Short People and Umbrellas

In this world, there are few things more terrifying to a tall person than short people wielding umbrellas. In case you don’t already know, the umbrella was invented to keep people dry on days where rain is prevalent (the use has been disputed in some circles, but I’ll leave that for another day). Unfortunately, the person who designed the umbrella, in their haste to make it convenient, used thin metal rods that allowed the umbrella to become collapsible. Not only did this feature allow the umbrella to be opened indoors causing bad luck, it required the metal rods to poke out at numerous evenly spaced locations on the umbrella, creating some kind of modern spinning torture device bent solely on the destruction of the eyes of tall people. Short people take advantage of these protruding rods by actually sharpening the ends to make them even more deadly.

In my experience, I have noticed that a disproportionate amount of short people use umbrellas compared to tall people. I refuse to attribute this to the possibility that short people are more likely to melt when touched by rain. No, short people use umbrellas purely to cause misery in the lives of the tall people. Why else would they hold their umbrellas so high?*

Maybe we tall people deserve to be impaled on the umbrellas of short people. After all, many kitchen cabinets are tailored towards those with tall tendencies, requiring short people to drag chairs along with them everywhere they go, just in case they encounter high cabinets. Perhaps this is the real reason for the umbrella use. Not only does wielding an umbrella get back at tall people for building the cabinets, but umbrellas protect the beautifully made chairs, strapped to the backs of short people, from the rain. Besides being unable to reach cabinets, short people have experienced heightened prejudices against them ever since the release of Randy Newman’s song “Short People”, which stated very clearly that “Short people got no reason to live”.

At this point you’re probably asking,

“Becca, how are short people with umbrellas in any way socially awkward?”

I’m getting there…

The social awkwardness of short people walking with umbrellas will have to be prefaced with the social awkwardness of walking. Bear with me.

The Social Awkwardness of Walking

There are unspoken rules that come with walking when you are near someone. Most people never become aware of these rules because they were lucky enough to either have been born with the rules built into them, or born with no sense of what is socially acceptable and what is not. If you are a trombonist or some other poor unfortunate soul, you may notice the rules and have a hard time following them because you are socially awkward.

Rule 1. If you are walking behind someone, don’t get too close. If they turn around they may think that you are stalking them and proceed to grab their mace.

Rule 2. If you are passing someone, make sure that they are walking significantly slower than you. If they are close to your pace it will take a long time to pass them and you will spend an uncomfortable amount of time walking right beside them. This is extremely awkward if you don’t know the person. Walking next to someone will cause them to think that they might know you and prompt them to start a vague and awkward conversation with you to figure out if they do know you.

Short person (SP): “How’s it going? Do I know this person? They're walking next to me. ”

Trombonist (T): “Fine. I don’t know this person.”

SP: “That wasn’t very revealing. classes going OK?”

T: “yeah. why is he talking to me?”

SP: “Still can’t tell. What are you taking”

T: “Lot’s of music stuff.”

SP: “oh good, I don’t know this person. No one I know is into music. Thank goodness. This person is super awkward. Oh that sounds fun. Well, I have to go. Bye.”

Rule 3. When passing someone, make sure there is a wide space to pass through. I would suggest larger than half of the width of a tooth. Actually it would probably be best if the space was twice your size. You do this because often, the person in front of you has trouble walking a straight line because they are in college. You don’t want them to brush against you accidentally. Sometimes hands will touch in a pass that was not well executed. Nothing is more socially awkward than an unintended touch of the hands between two people who don’t know each other.

Now we can address why the umbrella heightens the social awkwardness of walking.

The Social Awkwardness of Walking with Umbrellas

A person with an umbrella takes up way more space than a person without an umbrella. Once you finally realize how to properly execute a pass on the sidewalk, you must adapt your methods entirely to accommodate this rather frustrating change. Passing someone may require you to pass under their umbrella, which requires ducking. Not only will a person not walk straight, now they will unconsciously move their umbrella around. This will require you to analyze the space you have to walk through as well how low you must duck in order avoid touching their hand and being impaled on their umbrella. The ducking will draw attention to yourself causing a socially awkward situation in which people stare at you for being weird.

The worst thing that can happen on rainy days is becoming surrounded by dozens of short people with umbrellas. An attack can come from any side. It is not unlike being surrounded by an army bent on destroying you with their swords. Parrying attacks becomes crucial to survival until finally, one attacker will go another direction to attend class. If you’re lucky, an opening is created that you can escape through. If an opening is not created, and you can no longer take the never ending threat of impalement, you can awkwardly ask someone to move out of the way. Asking that question doesn’t seem awkward until you have to ask it. Believe me, it is super awkward. Personally, I have taken to accepting the beatings from the umbrellas because asking someone to move is too awkward to bear.

Solution?

If only short people could stop being so vicious. A raincoat is not a bad alternative; in fact, it may be MORE effective in keeping the rain off. Until the day comes when short people stop using umbrellas, we tall people will just have to assume the umbrellas serve a more important cause than keeping short people chairs dry. This is the burden that tall people must bear. Hopefully a solution to dangerous umbrellas will be invented. Maybe rubber tips on the metal ends?

*Note:  I never use umbrellas. This is quite possibly because my head is in the clouds (literally and figuratively), causing me to walk out in thunderstorms without realizing that it is raining until someone in class asks “Why didn’t you get an umbrella or wear a raincoat?”.

-The Socially Awkward Trombone

How to Deal with Fishermen

Once a year from grades K-12, you went to the gymnasium and took your school picture. It was relatively painless. You got to miss some of English class, and you got to talk with your friends while you waited in line (assuming they were close to your height). The photographer told you to stupidly tilt your head to the side, there was a flash, and it was over.  Just like that. Who’d ever think that the pictures would create so many new fishermen?

About a month later, more time is taken away from your English class (not good for the illiterate trombonist in the back row) to pass out the pictures.

The fishing begins…

Girl: How did your picture turn out?

Fisher: Oh it’s just TERRIBLE.

Girl: It can’t be that bad. Let me see.

Fisher: No really, I look disgusting.

What could she possibly be playing at? Who says such horrible things about themselves? I like to call these people 

THE FISHERS OF COMPLIMENTS

The fishers of compliments refuse to show their school pictures until they have reached a point where they can’t possibly degrade themselves anymore.

The fishing continues…

 Girl:  Come on, pleeeeeease

Fisher: Seriously, it turns my stomach. I look like Tim Burton in a pink dress.

Girl: No way it’s that bad. Let me see.

Fisher: Wellllll If you insist…

This is it. The moment the fisher has been waiting for. She has been climbing to this point for about 5 minutes.

The fishing reaches a climax…

Fisher: Turns the picture around

Girl: OMIGOSH YOU LOOK SOOOO AMAZING. YOU ARE SO PRETTY. WHAT ON EARTH WERE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?!??!??!?!?!?!

Fisher: You really think I look good?

Girl: Absolutely gorgeous.

This is what the fisher had been building to all along. The end goal was someone fawning over her. This entire scenario will repeat throughout the entire day in each class unless someone puts a stop to it. Here's how I choose to end it...

Trombonist: How did your picture turn out?

Fisher: Terrible. It's horrendous. 

Trombonist: I bet it's not as bad as you say. Let me see it.

Fisher: Well, if you insist, but don't say I didn't warn you. It's bad. 

Turns picture around

Trombonist: MY GOODNESS! WHAT HAPPENED!? IS THAT REALLY YOU?! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO YOURSELF?! You were so right. I wouldn't show that to too many people. 

OK, so maybe it's a little mean, but giving a fisher an unexpected reaction like that usually stops them from all of the excessive fishing. Don't worry. In time, the fisher will realize that they have been fishing for compliments all along, and they will thank you for pointing it out. 

-The Socially Awkward Trombone