Death of Auto-tunes!

So, being the starving artist poster boy asshole that I am, I find myself going without certain things from time to time. Things that all of us, myself included, usually take for granted. For the last three months or so, the main thing I have been deprived of was my truck. With this lack of wheels scenario in full force, I had to depend on the kindness of others (mostly my very enthusiastic-about-the-situation, roommate) or my own two legs for transportation. It wasn't all that terrible since I definitely needed the exercise, and the fact that there's nothing better than waking my roommate up in the morning, 10 minutes before I need to be at work with a cringe-worthy, "Hey, can I catch a lift, man?" He always grunts out an annoyed "Go fuck yourself... What time is it?... (and eventually) Fine," and then we're off. It sucks for him, but it's one of the fantastic parts of the writer/artist/music mogul/movie producer/entrepreneur path that we've both decided to take. There will be many bumps in the road whether I'm driving or hoofing it.

Well, today my Dad helped me get my truck seaworthy again, so now I have the means to get from point A to point B again, (however reliable that means actually is, is another matter completely). So about twenty minutes ago I was driving down the road in almost complete silence...

For story clarification purposes: One of the other things I've been living without lately, even before my truck's latest in a long series of bi-monthly breakdowns, was my radio. For anyone that's ever driven around for an extended period of time with no tunes, understands how completely fucking boring that is. I mean, at first its okay. You have the opportunity to get in touch with nature again, (as in nature I mean the squirrel you would have splattered while screwing around with the radio buttons or the infinitely precious moment where the guy next to you goes finger-spelunking in his nostril for the entire duration of the red light). You can actually listen to the person on the other side of the cell phone bitch about their own shitty life, (great if you have a girlfriend, because as a dude, we all know how engaged we really are in the crapfest-extravaganza recap of their day. In radio silence mode it's hard to get distracted from that awesome conversation by one of those stroke or heart attack commercials that pop on the radio every eight minutes these days, or the announcement that ladies and Anglican ministers get in free before 11 at the Stinky Pink Lounge tonight.) But the #1 bestest ever thing about not having a radio, is that you get plenty of time to practice your A cappella skills!

Now, back to the moment at hand. So there I was, cruising down the street in my newly resuscitated ride when I suddenly found myself in mid-song of the Aladdin anthem, Prince Ali. I mean, I was really belting it out. The saddest part is, I know like maybe three words of that entire song, and I can say with almost 100% clarity that those three words are probably wrong. During my exile from sitting on the drivers side of the soundless truck, I had forgotten that I had the habit of doing this. It took maybe about two miles of asphalt to pass under my tires for me to zone out and break out out into a ridiculous Disney song. Even sadder, was that I was pretty far into my butchered rendition of the Disney classic before I even realized I was doing it. So what did I do when I came to my senses? Sure, I stopped for a moment out of the embarrassment factor alone but then I started to critique how shitty the singing was... OUT LOUD... to no one in particular... and then, also to no one in particular, professed that I could probably do better... but thinking that discretion was the better part of valor in this case, I decided against it... again, all OUT LOUD.

So as I drove the last mile or so to my current destination (which apparently should be a nuthouse of some sort), of course I zoned out again. When I pulled to a complete stop in the parking space, the sudden, abrupt halting-motion jarred me out of my trance and back into reality, spitting me up right into the middle of my distorted, baritone rendition of the line:  'Prince Ali, Alias He Ali-a-Bab-wa!' (I still have no idea what the hell the words actually are but apparently the auto-pilot mode of my brain doesn't seem to care too much about those details).
Damn, I need to fix my radio....

Am I the only one that does this?