Ember has sing

I imagine that I have been thinking a lot about embarrassing moments this week because I've had the honor of playing Simon Cowell at my school's Talent Show auditions last Wednesday and Thursday. I assume that most everyone has at some point in their life attended a Talent Show, but until Fox decided to air the American Idol audition footage, we've never had the privilege of seeing the raw cut. Let me tell you, it is both a blessing and a curse. A chance to see all of the talent at our school, (pause, in case you don't understand what a comma is) along with some . . . others. If I were to further detail some of these "other" talents, I would have officially bought myself 2 more hours in Hell, which at this point I can't afford. So, for the sake of my eternal salvation, I will use some refrain.

As I was posting the final show list on my door this last Friday, I reassured myself with the thought that those disappointed will soon get over it, and that rejection is just part of the "growing up process." But, in reality, we all know that that's a lie. If that were true, I wouldn't be able to list in chronological order every embarrassing and/or disappointing moment of my life. Interestingly, the list from elementary school is twice as long as the rest, since I have now added to it through retrospection. Things that I thought weren't humiliating at the time are now mortifying as an adult. Much like my own talent show try outs.

Anecdotal examples: In Kindergarten when I sang a song about Tithing to a panel of mostly Pagan-elementary-school teachers, or when I auditioned in 6th grade by singing (not a talent of mine) "Tale as Old as Time" with the cassette recording of Angela Lansbury singing behind me. . . I ended by saying, "Off to the cupboard with you now Chip, it's past your bedtime." I'm haunted by what all the adults in the room were thinking.

So, in combination with actual embarrassing moments, the list is pretty long. Why is it that as much as I wish I could, I cannot forget about the time in 5th grade that one of my dad's friends mistook me for a boy and asked me if I thought the girl behind the counter at the diner we were eating at was cute? I use the term "diner" pretty loosely, as in actuality, we were at a restaurant attached to the Livestock Auction near my house. Undoubtedly, the burger I was chewing on was probably an unclaimed steer from the previous week's auction . . . the menu was written in pencil. But, don't worry, my dad smoothed the whole situation over by pulling off my backwards baseball cap (Yep. For further information, please see "When I Was a Boy"), and exclaimed "This is a girl!" Ah, the words every young girl longs to hear, a correction to her gender. Phew, crisis evaded. Thanks dad. Obviously I, like my students, have not gotten over it.

Maybe one day I will. But, until then, I take comfort in knowing that I can be part of someone else's humiliating journey through adolescence. Since obviously, once you're an adult, the embarrassment stops. Cough, cough.

Non-embarrassing-Adult Moments (I apologize to both Cassie and my sisters Kym and Lacy who I included without their consent):

We've all been harnessed at some point, right?

The Olympics adds 45 pounds

Kym posing with a stuffed version of our school mascot

Do not show Oprah this picture! But, sometimes even the Cowardly Lion needs to send a text.

I took this photo 7 years ago before church. It still make me laugh just as hard today.