I Wanna Know What Love IIIIIIIIIIS....
Last night, I dreamed that I was hired as a singer for the band Foreigner.
We went on tour, with predictable results.
It began in a 'theatre', which was less a 'concert area' than it was 'high school cafetorium'. I knew none of the songs, and was handed the lyrics on mimeographed paper just as I was running on stage. The paper turned my hands a lovely shade of purplish blue, along with a streak across my face. Just under my nose, where I scratched. I looked like I had a purple mustache, or purple boogers.
I attempted to sing, but my microphone was sporadic, as were the other singers and the canned music they piped in for us to sing to. Music, I may add, that contained the actual singers. The 'backers' of the tour came onto the stage from the wings and pushed us into the audience.
The audience mostly contained bikers and transvestites, who yelled at us and threw handfuls of hot, cooked food. It was mostly scrambled eggs, grits and jello shooters. You know, rock star food.
I woke up completely confused, and immediately relayed the above to Chachi. I completed it with "Why would I be hired as a singer, anyway? I'm freakin' tone deaf!"
He grinned and said, "Yeah, but that doesn't matter. You were singing for Foreigner."
Oh, yeah.
Duh.
We went on tour, with predictable results.
It began in a 'theatre', which was less a 'concert area' than it was 'high school cafetorium'. I knew none of the songs, and was handed the lyrics on mimeographed paper just as I was running on stage. The paper turned my hands a lovely shade of purplish blue, along with a streak across my face. Just under my nose, where I scratched. I looked like I had a purple mustache, or purple boogers.
I attempted to sing, but my microphone was sporadic, as were the other singers and the canned music they piped in for us to sing to. Music, I may add, that contained the actual singers. The 'backers' of the tour came onto the stage from the wings and pushed us into the audience.
The audience mostly contained bikers and transvestites, who yelled at us and threw handfuls of hot, cooked food. It was mostly scrambled eggs, grits and jello shooters. You know, rock star food.
I woke up completely confused, and immediately relayed the above to Chachi. I completed it with "Why would I be hired as a singer, anyway? I'm freakin' tone deaf!"
He grinned and said, "Yeah, but that doesn't matter. You were singing for Foreigner."
Oh, yeah.
Duh.
posted by rennratt at 6:01 PM
9 Comments:
LOL.....I could take the eggs and grits off your hands...!
That's hilarious. You could have tried to catch a few jello shooters and maybe your dream would have revealed a little more.
May one inquire what you had been eating/drinking/smoking before bedtime?
And why weren't you singing for TSO?
That's too freakin' funny. My dreams are never that cool. Usually just scary.
I would have enjoyed watching you sing their "Dirty White Boy" song.
Yeah! You were singing for Foreigner and you weren't naked in front of the audience! I think it was a good dream in spite of the interesting difficulties...
That dream is one of the most excellent things I've ever read/heard of. People throwing handfulls of hot food? SO funny.
Oh my goodness! I have tears in my eyes from laughing so hard. That is one of the funniest dreams I've ever heard. Wouldn't you love to know where all those bits of randomness came from. Foreigner, mimeographed lyrics, and grits. And jello shooters. Too, too funny.
That.is.awesome.
And yes, you could do it. Purple 'ditto' boogers and all. I saw Lou Gramm in Grand Rapids last September, and while he gets a pass for being old and surviving a serious illness, I'm sure you'd be able to sing at least as well as he did.
/pizza before bedtime gives me dreams like that, but they usually involve a helicopter
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