The Choreography of a Coincidence

I have to admit, I

I have to admit, I like American Idol.

I find it hard to believe that the television-viewing public (including myself) gets its kicks from watching 2 hours of lousy vocal auditions. In real life, being present at a lengthy bad audition is slightly more pleasant than major dental surgery. But on TV, it's fascinating. I'm interested to see who will win this year's competition--because the singers with the best voices are also the ones with "image issues". Personally, I'm rooting for the tall nerdy guy who sings Broadway.

And speaking of Broadway...

One of the perks of the cable modem at the office is that we have access to "Radio at AOL." I am not allowed to listen to the Broadway station when Chandler is here, as it makes him ill. (In reciprocation, he may not listen to any a.m. country stations or Dave Ramsey). So when everyone is out of the office, naturally that is the time to crank up the showtunes and belt them out along with the actors. And if you feel compelled to use the stapler as a microphone, so be it.

I was in this position earlier this week--facing the windows, stapler in hand, eyes closed, head thrown back as I hit the high note during the climax of a Les Mis song. I finished my performance, bowed to the crowd, turned around--and there was Miss Judi (the boss's wife) staring at me. So this is what the secretary does all day long. I felt really bad, especially because that was the second time I'd been caught that morning. (The first time it was a complete stranger--but he at least had the decency to applaud).