Box to grind

I think I need to replace my ears. I hope the stem cell guys are listening. We are halfway there!

I am in this predicament because I just got off the phone. To say I was on a call would be to stretch it, because we all know what we do on a conference call. No, that is not a Facebook quiz, and let's keep it all to ourselves. Let's just acknowledge that we neither talk nor listen.

Anyway there were these two women discussing, primarily, what fonts to use, which as conference calls go by was exciting since it had words like "Garamond", which sounds like it came out of a Queen song ("Garamond! Garamond! Do the Fandango!!").

Let's not digress: I was in a "voice off". Every sentence in response was lower by an octave or two. The voices grew lower and lower. I was afraid they would starting going so low, they'd appear on the other side of the world and cause an earthquake (which is China, no matter where you are).

Presently, it sounded like they had replaced their voice-boxes with a combination percussive instrument and speech-aid device, the sort that throat-cancer victims use. The voices became graveli-er until the ends of the sentences sounded like they emanated from dragging an ice pick made of the world's toughest element (osmium?) on a very rough concrete floor. I think my phone wore down a micro-meter from all the weathering.

This is why I like, in no particular order:

1. All Frenchwomen. They know how to keep their feminine voices and how not to keep their knickers. Add to that the iambic nature of their language: "would you like to go to delHIIII?" Heaven.

2. The sole person in the universe who called me to wish me a birthday at midnight. In a non-gravely voice, she offered me the best wishes a man could possibly hear: "I hope you get laid".

3. The housing agent with funky green eyes who has been showing me around. A cute voice with a Singapore accent, bordering on a lisp (seems to be an Indian thing). Very nice. Unfortunately, she looks like she may like her kind more.

4. A professional acquaintance, who has a wonderful lack of propriety that I completely love, and requested in a screechy European lilt to call the police if she did not return from her date. "He asked me to come home at a weird time, so I think he is trying to avoid another woman. If I don't return, something might have happened to me".

5. The secretary of the contact I was supposed to call, but did so half-hour late because I am a klutz. "Could you please spell that", she cooed. "S for Sweden". Twitter. So we carry on. Then we got to "F". No, reader, I did not do the predictble. I thought long, and said "F for...... Fukuoka". The heartiest, girliest giggle I have ever heard from a German girl.

This of course makes me wonder about the girl that I had a couple of dates with, whose voice hinted at a previous life involving brass ones.

Bring back the melodious female voice! Sign the Facebook petition.

PS: I am of course kidding. Please let me know who manufactures the fucking quizzes and all the other applications on FB and I will gladly strangle them.