High Pitched and Nasal

Fran Drescher.

Cancer spokesperson. Gorgeous jewess celebrity. Made famous by her voice.

I've loved Fran ever since I first saw Saturday Night Fever. ("Are you as good in bed as you are on that dance flo-ah?")(Hehe. Queens accents.)

What I love slightly less is when people compare my voice to hers. Especially when I'm sick.

Over the years my voice has also been compared to Gilbert Gottfried, Ned Flanders, a grocery store loudspeaker, Dori from Finding Nemo, some cartoon monkey from the Discovery channel or something, Chandler's girlfriend on Friends, the list goes on and on.

I don't know what's wrong with people. I don't go around telling them they look fat in those pants.

Okay . . . I might.

But still, my voice is virile and manly. (No matter what voice recordings play back. Those things are notoriously unreliable.)(Camera's add 10 pounds. Microphones add 10 octaves.)(And a severe adenoid problem . . . )

ANYWAY.

The other day there was a birthday party at work for a little kid. I walked past one of our utility rooms to see my friend Meghan filling balloons with helium.

Hel-lo! Brain cells be damned - I'm TOTALLY gonna inhale some and it will be AWE-SOME!

I took a good lung full and ran into the hallway to find my friend, Mary Ann.

Chad: (In total helium voice) Hi Mary Ann!!

Mary Ann: Hi.

Chad: Don't you notice anything different?

Mary Ann: Uhhhhh . . . no.

Chad: (Helium wearing off) Really?!?!

Mary Ann: Are those new shoes?

I walked away defeated. With my shoulders shrugged, but my voice held high.

Damn.

I'm going to need to embrace this voice of mine or it could be my downfall.

If only I had a hilarious accent to go with it. (Damn you, Colorado)