By far the toughest one tackled on my list so far. Not just tough, absolutely terrifying. Like wake up from a dead sleep in the middle of the night trembling and whimpering, simply knowing this was coming sort of terrifying. I'm not sure who threw this one on the list, but I will find them...
Let me offer some context. Yes, I know I do some wacky and foolish things. There are stunts that I have pulled off that really could have ended badly, a number of them including large wild animals with sharp teeth. I've been told both - that I am brave, and that I am nuts. So karaoke, shouldn't be much of a stretch, right? Oh so wrong. Public humiliation isn't my thing. I am a terrible singer. I know that dogs within blocks of me last night were the ones waking up in sheer terror. I only sing in my car, and I'm quite sure the beloved Jetta committed suicide just to get away from my attempts to carry a tune.
But, I have this silly list, and apparently I'm stubborn about it. So, when I heard of an upcoming karaoke party, I had to dive in. My trick for following through on stupid shit is to tell people I am going to do it. I've had great advice, ranging from 'get really drunk, and wait till everyone else is too' to 'pick a song that no one could ever possible do well, and just embrace the awful.' Whitney Houston's I Will Always Love You was nominated.
The party was in an ideal setting. A small town, very very far away. The audience was compiled of two sets of people - my family that has to love me anyway, and a bunch of strangers who I will likely never see again, or if I do, they will likely be just as drunk. Binders and lists of songs were passed around. I had it whittled down to either a Neil Diamond or Dusty Springfield number. (at this point, I should also mention that this was an 80s themed party, which I fully embraced. Apparently out of 100+ people, only myself and a few others actually got the memo. Still, my crimped side ponytail was very sexy.)
Then suddenly, horror of horrors, a tune started up, one that the Jetta happened to know quite well. My lovely aunt Leesa in full cheerleader mode somehow convinced me (or was it the rye?) that we needed to go up and sing together. It's all a bit of a blur from here... but I did manage to sing on stage for about a minute before the oh so clever karaoke lady caught on that my microphone had been switched off. (oops?) They made me switch it on, and instantly the unfortunate crowd was privy to my cringe-worthy vocals. They will never again hear Margaritaville without shuddering. Thank goodness Leesa has a brilliant voice and nailed all the high bits for us.
But I survived. More than that... I was later spotted on stage singing a little ditty by Def Leopard. Something about sugar. Oh that bloody rye.
Let me offer some context. Yes, I know I do some wacky and foolish things. There are stunts that I have pulled off that really could have ended badly, a number of them including large wild animals with sharp teeth. I've been told both - that I am brave, and that I am nuts. So karaoke, shouldn't be much of a stretch, right? Oh so wrong. Public humiliation isn't my thing. I am a terrible singer. I know that dogs within blocks of me last night were the ones waking up in sheer terror. I only sing in my car, and I'm quite sure the beloved Jetta committed suicide just to get away from my attempts to carry a tune.
But, I have this silly list, and apparently I'm stubborn about it. So, when I heard of an upcoming karaoke party, I had to dive in. My trick for following through on stupid shit is to tell people I am going to do it. I've had great advice, ranging from 'get really drunk, and wait till everyone else is too' to 'pick a song that no one could ever possible do well, and just embrace the awful.' Whitney Houston's I Will Always Love You was nominated.
The party was in an ideal setting. A small town, very very far away. The audience was compiled of two sets of people - my family that has to love me anyway, and a bunch of strangers who I will likely never see again, or if I do, they will likely be just as drunk. Binders and lists of songs were passed around. I had it whittled down to either a Neil Diamond or Dusty Springfield number. (at this point, I should also mention that this was an 80s themed party, which I fully embraced. Apparently out of 100+ people, only myself and a few others actually got the memo. Still, my crimped side ponytail was very sexy.)
Then suddenly, horror of horrors, a tune started up, one that the Jetta happened to know quite well. My lovely aunt Leesa in full cheerleader mode somehow convinced me (or was it the rye?) that we needed to go up and sing together. It's all a bit of a blur from here... but I did manage to sing on stage for about a minute before the oh so clever karaoke lady caught on that my microphone had been switched off. (oops?) They made me switch it on, and instantly the unfortunate crowd was privy to my cringe-worthy vocals. They will never again hear Margaritaville without shuddering. Thank goodness Leesa has a brilliant voice and nailed all the high bits for us.
But I survived. More than that... I was later spotted on stage singing a little ditty by Def Leopard. Something about sugar. Oh that bloody rye.
No comments:
Post a Comment