Blam

If I could describe the look my wife gives me when I pantomime shooting myself in the face, I would. It's usually while we're watching television, because that usually serves as the impetus for me to reach into the imaginary roll top desk in front of me, and pull out the well oiled handgun. We'll have watched a commercial about Wal-Mart, and my thumb disengages the safety. Or whatever has the NBC eight o'clock time slot will have someone that says, "This show will change the way people listen to music!" like it did tonight, and I'll place the barrel into my mouth. At this point I look over to see if my wife is making the indescribable face, the face that asks, "did I sign up for this?" and pull the trigger. I then reach behind my head with my left hand, poised as if it's going to pluck out a kleenex, and then slowly expand my fingers away from the back of my head to illustrate my brains exiting the back of my skull in slow motion.

But really, I can't say enough about Sing Off, you should check it out.