Tuesday, March 08, 2005

as i self-combust, i sing.not.

OK so if I could choose to be anything in this whole world, I’d want to be a sensational sexy-goddessy breathtakingly-voiced singer. Alas, God has not given me the voice of a nightingale. I made it up to 7th Grade choir, then was booted out; flicked aside like an old afghan.

Heartbreaking.

I picked up my shattered songbirdless soul from the pavement of shame, and invested in a hi-tech karaoke set when I was in Bangkok. And I henceforth croon to myself, or scream, depending on what I’m singing along to, on a regular basis of twice a week. I close my door, swig on something potent and sing until my epiglottis cannot take it anymore. Hoping that Mrs Goldstein, my [astute and nosy] neighbour will recognise my talent and phone up an agent in New York [much like the: Joey? It’s Estelle. line in Friends.]

In a cruel twist of fate, my characterless, bland-as-milk first cousin, whose one intent in life is to bore the pants off everybody, has landed herself a singing career in Spain.

What the fuck???

The last memories I have of this person who is unwittingly related to me, is how she'd show her report card to Granny and Granny would smile lovingly and slather "But-you-are-so-clever" compliments to the cousin. She'd look at mine and say something along the lines of: "Fucking around at school again, are we Laurian?"

Someone has voice-trained her, alongside four other [possibly equally dull] girls to sing in a group somewhere in Malaga, where they get:
1) free board
2) free meals
3) guaranteed three live shows a week
4) possible record deals
5) And they don't have to sing in Espanol

I could say I’m ecstatic for her, but then I’d be lying. I have no time for lies right now. I’m extremely discontent with this knowledge in fact.

I have a good mind to march over there [traipsing 10 000 miles across Africa indeed] and flitting onto the stage, singing “The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow…Betcha Bottom Dollllllllr that Tomorrow….” [I'll even do it in Spansih for extra points: Manana! Manana! Ti amos! Manana!]

I’d steal the show.
And I’d be thrown in prison. And my family will give her all the inheritance.
Either way, this is a no-win situation. So not happy right now.

3 comments:

Blog ho said...

maybe the basque seperatists will kidnap her.

Binsk said...

I say you get really close to her so if she becomes rich and famous you can tour with her and she'll buy you stuff. She'll do all the work, you'll get all the perks!

Peas on Toast said...

Ho - do you know any basque separtists?

Robin - I've tried that. She doesn't say much, so it's a non-reciprocal relationship. Although, if she's driving around in a Prosche, I don't mind making a few allowances.