American Idol, I Am Not . . .

Remember the time that I depants-ed myself at the gym?
No?

Well then stop what you are doing and go straight to the pantless post.

Go on.

Go.

Good.

Now that you know just how well I have already humiliated myself at the gym, you can partake of my latest not so stellar moment.

Last weekend, I had to do an 8 mile run in training for my May half-marathon.  My training partner was AWOL, and so I knew that I would have to tackle the journey on my own.  The thought of eight miles by myself scared the bejeebers out of me frankly, and I knew that I had to psyche myself up for it. So,  I spent some time one afternoon working on a playlist for my ipod with songs that would get me through those 8 miles.  Clearly, I chose my songs too well, because as I plodded along on the treadmill with my good tunes pumping in my ears, I found my groove.

I forgot where I was.

And I sang. . . out loud.

Yes.  Yes.  Running along on my treadmill, in the middle of the very public gym, with other gym patrons not even 10 feet away from me, I sang along with my ipod.

I was happy, I was running, and I sang out loud.

Problem was, I sang like I was singing in the shower.  You know that kind of singing right?  The kind of singing where you can not hear yourself, and therefore believe that you sound good.  The kind of singing that is obnoxiously off key and makes all the local cats in the neighborhood start screeching.  The kind of singing that will get you a TV spot when you are auditioning for American Idol but not a ticket to Hollywood.

Yes. That kind of singing.

It was not pretty, my friends.  Not pretty.

So, in Pink's terminology Raise Your Glass . . . to me. 

I clearly need another drink after this latest humiliation.

**********Addendum  . . .   If my singing ends up on you tube and someone gets a million bucks and a Today show spot, I want a cut.  It is the least that I deserve after the looks that I received.  Just sayin'.