If you’re a glee club member, either for real or in your heart, here’s my advice on how to live large like the Glee stars in 6 easy steps:
1. Burst into song-finely tuned, perfectly harmonized, Broadway-quality song-whenever possible. Every glee clubber has at least ten years of private voice lessons under her (or his) belt, right? So get out there and perform in all the linen stores, parking lots, dining rooms, and football fields you can find. You don’t need to rehearse first. Rehearsal is for wusses.
2. Dance your little tushy off. Unplanned, perfectly-choreographed dance routines come naturally to glee club singers. Keep about thirty wheel chairs off to the side in case you, your glee-mates, and some extra people ever feel like putting on a wheel chair number. Oh, and don’t sweat. Seriously. No perspiration allowed.
3. Cast your fashion sense to the wind. Gleeks are geeks; no one expects you to look hot. Caveat: you must always look hot. Effortlessly hot. Your biceps should bulge. Your waist should be waif-like. The only person permitted a paunch is the jazzy hot mama of the glee group.
4. Be nice to that mysterious piano player that follows you around. The back-up band, too. These nameless musicians have but one purpose in this world: to provide the glee soundtrack of your life. Don’t feel bad about it, though. Singers sit at the top of the chain, while instrumentalists languish at the bottom. It’s the natural order of things.
5. Rest assured that, in spite of financial cuts, your school has budgeted tens of thousands of dollars for the sheet music, performance rights, costumes, and other incidentals needed for your gleeful romps. Whether you’re copying the costumes of Gaga, emulating the eroticism of Madonna, or just trying to con Josh Groban into another cameo appearance, your school’s got you covered. Don’t feel the least bit guilty; an even larger sum has been set aside for the Rainbow Sweat Suit Coalition. (Gym teacher’s gotta look hot.)
6. If you feel your glee club isn’t living up to these standards, take this article to your glee director and present it as a list of complaints. Chances are he’ll listen carefully and present you with a solution in mash-up form. Unless he’s too busy flirting with the guidance counselor, that is. Or sharing a brownie with a retired glee director beneath the bleachers. Or arranging the glee club’s next TV commercial. Or molding his hair for the next big glee performance . . .
. . . in which case, you should just relax for a while. Maybe go to the auditorium by yourself and put on a fully orchestrated, Grammy-winning performance. Or sit a spell in the dumpster-just you, the blues, and an aqua-colored slushie. It’s your call.