Tuesday, December 07, 2004

Sing?!? Me?!? . . . You have got to be kidding me!!!

If there is one thing I am not good at, I would definitely say that it's singing that I lack at. And it frustrates me, I would give up something of myself just to be 'I-am-a-singer' type.

Growing up I have waited for my bright star to shine on me and for my audience to worship me and my singing prowess. Heartbreaking as it is, it would never happen. The only place I can sing with a full blast, shameless performance is when I am in the bathroom taking my not-so-cold shower, and that's about it. Nothing more, nothing less. For somebody who loves and appreciates music so much, this is the worst and dreadful curse. Music isn't as grateful to me as I am to IT, which is the fruition of a gratitude-less act.

So as a result, whenever there are videoke sessions whether it'd be in Greenbelt's Redbox or Q Power Station's ten-peso per song (nine-peso per song for VIP members, ahem!)or even at some relative's house, I would make it a point to avoid the oh-so-precious microphone to save myself and my undying reputation from eternal humiliation and mass hysteria.

So if events like this happen, and you my dear friend is in the club and is part of our unfortunate destiny, save yourself, shut up and don't even dare to open your mouth for your own sake! Because whatever vocalization we do and how long we do it, it won't matter. We'll eventually end up sounding like a squeaking Helen - smothered, drowned, beaten and eaten slowly while still alive by a not-so-viscous T-Rex. TRIED AND TESTED.

And if still after all the precaution, some idiot tries to make you sing, make a stupid excuse that you didn't get much sleep so you couldn't give your 100% flawless performance!Or better yet, hang yourself from the nearest mango tree!

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