K, K, Karaoke. Karaoke. (I'm rapping. Can you tell?)

OK, here's me singing Englishman in New York by Sting, who I have loved since I was 15. My husband thinks I would leave him for Sting, but I wouldn't. But I still love Sting. The first time I saw Sting was during his Dream of the Blue Turtles tour. I was 16 and there was a lull between Roxanne and Message in a Bottle, so I screamed as loud as I could, "I LOVE YOU, STING!!!" And he smiled, which means he heard my voice. I was pretty jived after that because Sting heard my voice. HE HEARD MY VOICE! Before that concert, I'd also written a poem for him which I wanted to put in a glass (well, probably plastic) bottle and then throw up on stage to him. I was going to put my name and address on it because I was certain once he read it, he'd be so blown away by my talent that he'd want me to write songs with him. I never did find an acceptable bottle, so all my dreams were dashed that night. But at least he heard my voice.

P.S. I just realized I sound like a lounge singer here.