I don’t know if you guys know this about me or not, but I’m a really talented singer. And I mean really, really talented. I’m like Adele. Except I don’t have the heartbreak and I’m not scorned by a lover, but I sound like her. Almost exactly.
Today I did my best rendition of “If I Die Young” by The Band Perry. Let me tell you, I SANG that sucker. And I sounded REALLY GOOD. And just the other day, I was channeling my inner Underwood and belting out Cowboy Casanova. I was rocking that one too.
I’m not normally one to toot my own horn, but ‘toot toot’, I’m a pretty phenomenal singer. I can carry a tune in a bucket AND out of a bucket. (I’m not really sure what I mean by that, but go with me here) It could be the Nashville music scene is sinking into my pores and making me great, or maybe it’s just my natural talent, but I’m really good you guys. I can’t wait to be discovered and get a record contract. Then you all can say you knew me when.
Unfortunately there is a problem. You see, I don’t sing where people can hear me. I only sing in my car. And only when I’m alone in my car. No one will ever know the talent I possess. Unless I sing loud enough that the people in the cars next to me can hear…that would be embarrassing, I hope that doesn’t happen. Although I’m pretty sure they can see me singing…maybe I should reconsider my car singing career. But then I would never get any better. It’s a real dilemma I have here.
I’m very shy so I don’t want anyone to know how great I truly am, musically. But my car, oh the stories he could tell you (His name is Kyle, after the salesman who sold it to me. Naming my car after the salesman is not weird…you’re weird). If he was like Kit from Knight Rider, we’d be good and he could tell everyone how great I am, but alas, he doesn’t speak. (PS. why don’t cars speak yet, this is the 21st century). But I don’t like all the attention on me and if everyone knew how fantastic I was, they would never leave me alone. I don’t want young men throwing themselves at me*. No thank you! I guess I’m stuck with no one ever knowing the true talent I have.
I’ll just have to settle for being a Chevy Cobalt superstar for now. I’ll keep singing to Kyle until he learns how to talk. Then he’ll start blabbing to everyone about how talented I am and I will catch my big break. It might be a few years, because who knows when my car will become self-sufficient and develop the ability to speak, but that day is coming. It is coming. I will be the next Adele. Just you wait!
*Yes I do. I need a husband.
[Editors note: Amanda is actually a really terrible singer. That’s why she’s only allowed to sing in her car. Something about the acoustics inside Kyle, however, make her think she sounds good there and only there. Just leave her alone okay? let her have this little joy in life of thinking she’s good at singing in her car. Leave her alone you bullies!]
[2nd Editors note: Amanda is the editor. She’s kind of a moron. And she thinks she’s funny. She’s also the only one who thinks this. Please forgive her/me for this post. As long as Amanda entertains herself we consider it a successful day.]
Meanderings of a Restless Mind 