Leny, Michelle, and Barbara Jane are all aflutter about singing karaoke. Their lovely eyes are rolling back in their heads as they wax eloquently about Tagalog song chips containing hundreds of tunes that can be inserted into gold, silver, or black microphones. Barbara Jane is partial to 80s rock ballads. Leny wants to coddle her inner chanteuse. Michelle wanders the aisles of Wal-Mart singing out loud to Elton John's Daniel.
It's a phenomenon.
And so I've come to believe that I'm the only Filipina (with the exception of my cousin Lui who, though more than amply talented in every other area of her life, cannot hold a tune), who would rather stand naked in front of four hundred people than sing karaoke. That's saying a lot, people. I have, after all, given birth to three children.
I feel so alone.
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