by Kathryn Graham
Who’s been on the stage of The Voice? Supremely talented singers… and this idiot.
Yeah, that’s right, me.
We had a Lip Sync Battle at the Big Name That Shall Not Be Named Here TV and Film Studio where The Voice is shot and also where I work. I signed up solo for P!nk’s F**kin’ Perfect, thinking I could get a routine done in time before the contest. Yeah, that didn’t happen.
So what happens is, I mix up the dates, and then suddenly: Oh, the contest is tomorrow. Also, if you want to get costumes from the wardrobe department, you need to make an appointment and go there. The day comes and I’m replaying the song on my way into the office for forty minutes. I’m running around wardrobe an hour before I have to go on stage, still thinking to myself: Do I really want to do this? I should cancel. I have nothing prepared. Fucking perfect.
Even as I was standing backstage waiting for a hairy fella in an evening gown to finish “Dreaming” by Selena, I was debating turning back.
Then, a funny thing happens. I decide to do it anyway. My reasoning goes thus: How many chances do I have to be on the stage of The Voice? How big of a fool can I really make of myself? We’re all going to die one day anyway, so fuck it.
I don’t have a full routine. I have a couple things I’d come up with on the commute and some moves from my newfound love of Dance Central. I get called onto the stage by two hosts trying so hard to figure out how to announce the name of the song without saying “the f-word”.
I practiced F**kin’ Perfect using the explicit lyrics, thinking: If they don’t let me use the explicit version, how hard is it to remember to go “less than, less than perfect” rather than “less than fucking perfect”? Turns out pretty hard. I mouth “fuckin’ perfect” every time.
Some bigwigs I don’t know from the company are judging from those rotating chairs (but they didn’t get to rotate, since it’s lip syncing, that’d be pretty stupid). Three women and a dude. All three women stared at me like… What. The. Fuck. The guy? He looks like a sandy-haired dad from an eighties sitcom, and he’s smiling. Lots.
So I focus on dad because a) he’s super encouraging and b) my other choice are three gorgons who’ll just turn me to stone. And the stage is a lot smaller than it looks on TV, and I just did the same move like eight times, and my mouth is dry, but… Then there’s a big cheer from the stands. It’s a group from IT dressed as construction workers. And suddenly, it’s fun again. I’m relaxing, and I’m doing better at this. Like, fuck yeah, construction team. You feel me. You were up here like goddamn gladiators. I salute you!
I think they won first place. So much love to IT.
It was by no means a fantastic performance. I didn’t get into the finals. If I had more time, I know I could have done better, but that’s not how it worked out this time. But I’m infinitely happier that I went up there than if I had backed down because I wasn’t prepared. I had nothing to lose. I just had to get my dumb ass on stage and start dancing.
And this guy in this awful photo backstage? He’s my co-worker. He went on after me, and he made it into the finals. He was so confident I’d make it into the finals while I prayed I didn’t (and kind of thought it’d be nice to be there at the same time).
That smiley judge? He stopped me on his way to the elevator and said I was great. I don’t believe either of them for a second. I was objectively awful, but it’s endearing of them both to say so.
Plus I got to run through wardrobe and get dressed by a ‘mean lady’ who was actually pretty awesome? Like I kind of want to work in wardrobe just to be subjected to this biting wit daily?
This isn’t something I probably would have done years ago, and I’m really happy with the me that can get on stage and just dance already, even if it’s not even close to f-word perfect.
(That’s the song link up there, er, warnings if you go to watch it? But Mac from Veronica Mars is in it, and the song is awesome.)
“Pretty, pretty, please, don’t you ever, ever feel
Like you’re less than fucking perfect
Pretty, pretty, please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you’re nothing. You’re fucking perfect to me”
Kathryn Graham is a TVWriter™ Contributing Editor and munchman’s secret fav. Learn more about Kate HERE