It sickens me

Try as I might to think about something other than my audition, I can't. My dear, dear friend Tricia has agreed to accompany me to Houston and experience the entire process with me. This also means that she'll wait in line at night so that I can sleep. Even with the promise of her company, I'm still paranoid about what could potentially go wrong.

For starters, I read that producers only allow the first 2,000 people in each city to audition (of course, this contradicts the estimate that 70,000 people auditioned last season, unless they are including the thousands of people who were turned away before they even got to hit a note). I am doing everything in my power and taking every precaution to ensure that I arrive in Houston with ample time. To be exact, Tricia and I are arriving 24 hours before the line is even allowed to form.

Another possible mishap, and I'm afraid to even blog it, is that I could get sick. Vominously ill I can handle. Stuffy and sore-throated would kill me. I am taking vitamin C like no one's business and I've been drinking so much water as to have see-through piss.

Perhaps my biggest fear, though, is that I will choose the wrong song and not even make it past the first round. After having (foolishly) told so many people that I'm trying out, I'd be on the lowest rung of reality TV losers if I didn't even last through round one.

I'm quite fortunate that I'm not nervous about a few things, such as Simon. Or how I'll look (I say that as not to sound conceited, but as to state quite assurdely that I won't be wearing a magician outfit). Or if my life will go on should I fail miserably.

After all, once we've passed the universal milestone of reality TV audition, life only gets better, right?