If I had one wish, it would be for real life to be like Glee. Or maybe Footloose. What I wouldn't give to sing my problems at someone (“What the hell am I doing drinking in LA at twenty-si-hiiix”) or to dance out my frustrations in an old warehouse with a series of pelvic thrusts, shoulder rolls and no handed cartwheels; all while cursing John Lithgow's name. Not saying I couldn't actually do these things. But, let's face it. If you saw me gaying around a warehouse like Kevin Pigface, singing Bran Van 3000, wouldn't you question my sanity? Or at the very least, my song choice?
Real life sucks. As I grow older, I realize this. A little more each day. If a certain “buddy” who resides upstairs would like to to make it up to me, I would settle for a studio audience. A laugh track is as little as I would accept. He can be a real stickler sometimes. Just think, in my new and improved life, you make a funny, everyone laughs. You meet some crazy old guy who thinks dancing is the devil, and you bang his daughter. Is that how Footloose goes? I don't know, I've never actually seen the whole thing. On account of it being extremely gay. Anyway, after an hour and a half, tops, everything will have worked itself out. You will probably have gained a few friends, some life experience, and most importantly, you'll have some sweet dance moves under your belt. Seriously. Jason Derulo would be jealous. But don't worry, he's not invited.
The more I write and brainstorm about my new and improved life, the more I'm thinking of throwing caution to the wind and starting up a new world. A new world where if you have a problem, you don't have to stab each other, all you have to do is have a rap or singing battle. A new world, where when you're out at the bar and your girlfriend dumps you, when you start to sing “Love Hurts” by Nazareth, no one will look at you weird. In fact, everyone will know all of the words. And surprise surprise, it's choreographed! Everything will move in slow motion, there might possibly be a glitter explosion, and like I said, everything will work out just fine. Your now ex-girlfriend will later get hit by a car.
It will be called “Life: The Chelsey Edition”. I'll make flyers with my phone number on the tabs. If you see one on a telephone pole or at your local laundromat, make sure you snag yourself a tab. Spaces are limited.
Well friends, I'm late for a pep rally at East High. My sometime boyfriend Zac Efron and I have plans to hold hands and sing to each other while committing hate crimes. That school is way too PC if you ask me. Hey, it's my world, mother fuckers. You don't get to ask questions.
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