Whistling Dixie

I whistle a lot. Most of the time I don't realize I'm doing it; it just seems to happen on its own. I whistle everything -- old movie tunes, hymns, country, a lot of Mozart, and the odd bit of Guns N' Roses. I whistle melodies and harmonies. I love to whistle.

The other day at work, I was standing there innocently, whistling (very quietly and inoffensively,) filing the day's Cargo Air Waybills, when one of my co-workers laughed and said, "You whistle like a man!"

I whistle like a man? How can a whistle have a gender? I do not.

One of my ambitions is to get a job in a recording studio as the whistler. Now, my singing voice is very small and apologetic. I can sing on tune, but I can't sing very loudly at all, without getting warbly and shy. (That doesn't count at home, where I am fond of belting out show tunes and performing Vaudeville dances with reckless abandon.)

But whistling... ah, it's my chance to shine. You know those songs where they have somebody whistling a little bit? (Sadly not very often.) Yes, those are the bits I could totally do. If anyone reading this happens to be a recording artist, keep this in mind. You need look no further than the Blethering Spot if you ever need a whistler in the studio. Give me a call... we'll talk.