Joanna es realmente terrible. Mejor dicho, es totalmente terrible lo que escribe: no tienes absolutamente ninguna escapatoria para no reirte a carcajada limpia. Ahora bien, si Joanna quiere seguir enviando sus comentarios (que luego pasan a post) y que además sean publicados, le ruego que diversifique sus protagonistas: Rolando lo es por derecho propio, y es imprescindible su presencia en cualquier relato, pero esa tal Teresa puede ser sustituida tambien por alguna amiga de "la delegation française", por Super-Sandro, por la dulce Ingrid, por cualquier otro villazonista o incluso por la misma corresponsal en NY. Aunque, por cierto, ese hotel cercano a la ROH donde se oyen esos acentos extranjeros (galés, ruso y yanqui)...¿por donde queda? ...es que reservaré para mi próximo viaje.
The rave reviews about Rolando’s Werther have been overwhelming. Critics
have extolled Rolando’s voice, his acting, his artistry, his great
talent. They have called his performance remarkable, uncompromising,
astonishing, unflinching, magnificent. While this is all very true, the
real reason for Rolando’s stunning triumph is finally revealed.
Thursday, May 5, 2011, 6 pm
Upscale hotel in London near Covent Garden, the room of Rolando Villazon
The hotel phone rings; Rolando picks up: “My driver is here? Thanks, I’ll be down in a minute.”
Picks up a large duffle bag: “I better make sure I have everything. Yes, here’s my trusty list of things I need to take to the ROH.”
Reading from the list: “The score. Check. Twelve bananas. Check. Honey. Check. My Swiss army knife. Check. My frisbee. Check. My lucky red robot boxers. Ch… Hmm,” he says, digging deeply into the bag. “Where the devil are they?” Empties the bag on the bed. “My lucky red boxers aren’t here, and it’s opening night for Werther at Covent Garden in two hours! The eyes of the opera world are on me! This is SO not good.”
Starts looking around the room frantically. In the drawers. In his suitcase. Under the bed. In the refrigerator. Turns the room upside down. No red boxers. “Maybe they’re in the bathroom?” No boxers in the bathroom.
“OK, Rolando, just stay calm. Gah! This is an emergency! I have to call Super Teresa for help. Thank God she’s in a nearby hotel.” The cell phone slips out of his hand and into the toilet. String of colorful expletives in five languages. Rolls up his sleeve and retrieves the phone. “God, I hope this thing still works!” Speed dials Super Teresa, who quickly answers, “Rolando, how are you? Tonight’s the big night! How exciting!”
R: “Teresa, I can’t find my lucky boxers! I’m on at the ROH in two hours! I can’t do this without my lucky boxers! Help me!” As he’s talking, he begins making out the sound of voices in the background…male voices, baritonal voices with very distinctive accents: Welsh, Russian, and English, specifically, American English.
Rolando overhears what the men are saying. The Welshman: “Teresita, Queen of my Affections, say you’ll be mine!” The Russian: “Teresita, Goddess of Love, come away with me on the midnight train to Moscow!” The American: “Teresita, Cruel Seductress, have mercy on me! Let’s have some hot barbecue and a cold beer.”
R: “Teresa, what on earth is going on there?” Teresa, evasively: “Um, it’s just room service bringing me some coffee.”
R: “That’s one friendly hotel. Just come and help me.”
ST: “Right now? Uh, I’m a little busy.”
R: “Teresaaaaa!!!!”
ST: “OK, OK, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Then whispering to “room service”: “Settle down, boys! One at a time. You baritones are so demanding. I promise I’ll be right back.”
Ten minutes later, a knock at Rolando’s door. Rolando opens the door and massively hugs Super Teresa.
R: “Thank God you’re here! What took you so long? I’m ready to panic—I need those boxers now!”
ST: “Calm down, Rolando!”
R: “I’m a fiery Mexican tenor! This IS calm for me.”
ST: “Look, Rolando, if you don’t calm down, I’m going to tie you to that chair before you hurt yourself. Let’s just start looking.”
Both methodically search the room. Correction: Teresa methodically searches the room, while Rolando bounces off the walls. No boxers.
ST: “Have you looked under the bed?”
ST: “Humor me and look again.”
Rolando starts to crawl under the bed, his arms extended, desperately feeling around in the dark. Super Teresa notices a little bit of red fabric peeking out above his jeans.
ST: “Ahem, Rolando, you’re WEARING your lucky red boxers.”
R: “A miracle! Teresa, you’ve saved me once again! Mwah! See you tonight!”
ST: “Of course, Rolando!” Then looking down the hallway at three shadowy male figures beckoning her, whispers to herself: “Hmmm…or maybe not….”
Thursday, May 5, 2011, 6 pm
Upscale hotel in London near Covent Garden, the room of Rolando Villazon
The hotel phone rings; Rolando picks up: “My driver is here? Thanks, I’ll be down in a minute.”
Picks up a large duffle bag: “I better make sure I have everything. Yes, here’s my trusty list of things I need to take to the ROH.”
Reading from the list: “The score. Check. Twelve bananas. Check. Honey. Check. My Swiss army knife. Check. My frisbee. Check. My lucky red robot boxers. Ch… Hmm,” he says, digging deeply into the bag. “Where the devil are they?” Empties the bag on the bed. “My lucky red boxers aren’t here, and it’s opening night for Werther at Covent Garden in two hours! The eyes of the opera world are on me! This is SO not good.”
Starts looking around the room frantically. In the drawers. In his suitcase. Under the bed. In the refrigerator. Turns the room upside down. No red boxers. “Maybe they’re in the bathroom?” No boxers in the bathroom.
“OK, Rolando, just stay calm. Gah! This is an emergency! I have to call Super Teresa for help. Thank God she’s in a nearby hotel.” The cell phone slips out of his hand and into the toilet. String of colorful expletives in five languages. Rolls up his sleeve and retrieves the phone. “God, I hope this thing still works!” Speed dials Super Teresa, who quickly answers, “Rolando, how are you? Tonight’s the big night! How exciting!”
R: “Teresa, I can’t find my lucky boxers! I’m on at the ROH in two hours! I can’t do this without my lucky boxers! Help me!” As he’s talking, he begins making out the sound of voices in the background…male voices, baritonal voices with very distinctive accents: Welsh, Russian, and English, specifically, American English.
Rolando overhears what the men are saying. The Welshman: “Teresita, Queen of my Affections, say you’ll be mine!” The Russian: “Teresita, Goddess of Love, come away with me on the midnight train to Moscow!” The American: “Teresita, Cruel Seductress, have mercy on me! Let’s have some hot barbecue and a cold beer.”
R: “Teresa, what on earth is going on there?” Teresa, evasively: “Um, it’s just room service bringing me some coffee.”
R: “That’s one friendly hotel. Just come and help me.”
ST: “Right now? Uh, I’m a little busy.”
R: “Teresaaaaa!!!!”
ST: “OK, OK, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Then whispering to “room service”: “Settle down, boys! One at a time. You baritones are so demanding. I promise I’ll be right back.”
Ten minutes later, a knock at Rolando’s door. Rolando opens the door and massively hugs Super Teresa.
R: “Thank God you’re here! What took you so long? I’m ready to panic—I need those boxers now!”
ST: “Calm down, Rolando!”
R: “I’m a fiery Mexican tenor! This IS calm for me.”
ST: “Look, Rolando, if you don’t calm down, I’m going to tie you to that chair before you hurt yourself. Let’s just start looking.”
Both methodically search the room. Correction: Teresa methodically searches the room, while Rolando bounces off the walls. No boxers.
ST: “Have you looked under the bed?”
R: “Yes, and they’re NOT there! My life is passing before my eyes.” On his knees, beseeching the Almighty: “Take me now, Lord.”
ST: “Humor me and look again.”
Rolando starts to crawl under the bed, his arms extended, desperately feeling around in the dark. Super Teresa notices a little bit of red fabric peeking out above his jeans.
ST: “Ahem, Rolando, you’re WEARING your lucky red boxers.”
R: “A miracle! Teresa, you’ve saved me once again! Mwah! See you tonight!”
ST: “Of course, Rolando!” Then looking down the hallway at three shadowy male figures beckoning her, whispers to herself: “Hmmm…or maybe not….”
JOANNA FROM NEW YORK
Irresistible Joanna !!!
RépondreSupprimerJe suis certaine (ou presque) qu'aucune villazonista n'aura eu l'audace de vérifier la couleur du caleçon de... Werther.
Une prochaine fois, si Rolando lit ce post, on peut imaginer... le pire !
hahaha, that was really funny and i love the bit about teresa and her baritones, lol one at a time, and rolando asking whats going on there, lol i can see it now, joanna, keep these little stories coming they are great xxxx
RépondreSupprimerhahahahaah, Joanna !!! It's really funny ! For the next installment, would be interesting a star appearance of Teresita's husband while she is broadening horizons with the baritonal world ;)
RépondreSupprimerJA, JA, JA!!! Joanna you are an artist too!!! You know what? I'm sure there is one more thing on Rolando's top ten list: his red clown nose!!! I bet he always carries one with him! As for Super Teresa I beg you keep her in your stories, ja, ja! Teresa, don't get mad at me!
RépondreSupprimerThank you all for your wonderful suggestions!
RépondreSupprimerCatherine, this interest in Rolando’s boxers was, as you recall, precipitated by a whole post on this inestimable blog, a post that was devoted to a thorough and erudite discussion of this critical matter, large photo of the boxers included. As an extremely cultured man, Rolando would certainly appreciate then and now the dignity and gravitas with which we handle any discussion of his undergarments. I solemnly swear to you and all villazonistas, that this high standard will be upheld in the future, so help me God.
Lisa, as far as Teresa and her baritones, I can only say again that the highest journalistic standards were employed in gathering this information. Paying the maid at the hotel ten euros didn’t hurt either.
Kenderina, having Teresa “broadening her horizons” is just another manifestation of the true villazonista’s relentless pursuit of knowledge for its own sake.
Judit, the red nose is definitely in his bag. :o) And I promise you that Super Teresa is here to stay.
And now for Teresa: I will be very happy to include other protagonists in any future tales. I hope they do not regret that I have acted on your suggestion. Please be advised that you will continue to remain a fixture here in "Les contes de Rolandito."
Also, I will send you an email with the name and address of the hotel near the ROH. As you can imagine, this is highly sensitive information and can only be provided on a “need to know” basis. Those naughty baritones would never forgive me.
trop drôle Joanna!!!
RépondreSupprimerSuper Térésa (bien vrai )au secours malgré l'attrait pour certains barytons (au pluriel).J'adore cet humour .
Mais j'aimerai entendre l'éclat de rire monumental de Rolando s'il peut lire ces lignes.
Lire cette page de bon matin est pur régal !!
Encore Joanna :o))))))
Joanna tu me feras mourir de rire !!!!!!!
RépondreSupprimerje ne sais pas si le fameux caleçon rouge aux petits robots est toujours un porte bonheur, mais une chose est sure le nez rouge ne quitte pas les poches de Rolando !!!!!
Absolutely hilarious.....I loved this story, as much as I love the villazonista and their blog, not to mention Rolando whose success makes me very very happy.
RépondreSupprimerO, Joanna, what a story.You are priceless. I was about falling out of my chair from laughing. You are a really story teller. Please continue to do so, we don't want to miss this anymore. The part that Rolando is cursing in 5 languages.LOL. Great! It seems that Rolando can't do anything by himself anymore (exept geourgous singing ofcourse)he always needs the help of Super Teresa. I love it!
RépondreSupprimerBueno, podéis insistir lo que queráis, pero si en algo tiene poderes Teresa es en decidir que es lo que se publica y lo que no se publica en este Blog. Y, desde luego, este continúa siendo un Blog sobre y para Rolando, no sobre la persona que lo escribe.
RépondreSupprimerDear Teresa, rumor has it that you have disappeared with the Three Baritones and are no where to be found, so, if you allow "Les contes de Rolandito" to continue to be published in the blog, "Les contes" will be populated with legions of capable and valiant ninja villazonistas as well as a certain well-meaning but bumbling citizen of New York. :-)))
RépondreSupprimerAlso, Inge, it's not so much that Rolando can't do anything by himself without assistance as that he's constantly getting into trouble because "Rolandito" keeps sneaking out and playing tricks on him. Rolandito is such a handful that he needs a lot of people running after him picking up things that he, the human whirlwind, has knocked over.
Finally, thank you everyone, most particularly Teresa, for indulging my admittedly unorthodox way of casting a goofy but very fond glance at Rolando!
Joannita, please go always on writing such incredibly funny , witty and intelligent stories. It is a fresh air in our lives, I guess.
RépondreSupprimerAs for the red nose of Rolando's " die rote Nase" action," when we met him at the stage door after Werther he took the nose out of his pocket and put it on. That is the proof that this particular objet is always with him!
He certainly reads the comments on the blog, he told me, so be sure he will laugh his head off reading your precious tales, stories, anecdotes, fiction and non-fiction!
I suggest we might publish a booklet with all your comments/stories/fairy tales(!) under the name "the mystery of red knickers in search of its owner " and another one " Barytons desperately seeking to seduce a very respectable Spanish lady"
I bet these editions will have a lot of commercial success
Thanks , dear Joanna, and thank you Teresa that you let her do her thing......!!!! It cheers up our existence!
¡¡¡Delicioooooooooooooso!!!
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