At work yesterday, my quilting chica Mary (and sometimes she’s my golf chica Mary as well) came up to my desk and said ‘You know, it’s too bad that you aren’t doing a Club Weetabix tonight because I have off tomorrow.’ I replied, ‘I have off on Tuesday, not tomorrow. But I could’.’ And that was it. Once the idea of doing the karaoke thing and also magically turning Thursday into Friday had entered my brain, it was all over. I shot off an email to my team, informing them that I was switching my vacation day, and then rallied the Club Weetabix crew.
After work, I was informed that we would be going back to Ward and June’s for Poolapalooza Part Deux, thus I scuttled (because I am somewhat crablike occasionally) over to their house in the schmancy ‘burb, where I found Esteban and Joel already there. It was all to no avail, as it was far too windy to be wrangling 100 feet long sheets of metal. But I did mention to Ward and June that I would be doing the karaoke thing that evening. June has often mentioned that she’d love to go, but they always have to be in bed by like six o’clock at night or something. They both get up for work insanely early. When I started dating Esteban, sometimes we’d be sitting in his bedroom talking after an evening out and they’d be getting up to go to work. In fact, the first time I ever Ward, he had popped his head into Esteban’s room and was very shocked to find a curvy round sex goddess-in-training sitting there.
Fully clothed. Man, you guys just twist everything, don’t you?
Then I scurried home (because I am alternately somewhat rodent-like), and debated upon what to wear. Esteban had remarked that the honeydew t-shirt and white pants looked as though I should be asking patients to bend over while I take their temperature. And he was right. While it wasn’t entirely apparent to me immediately, the color of the t-shirt WAS sort of reminiscent of hospital scrubs. I whipped that off and then threw on a v-neck retro black/grey t-shirt and my perennial red hooded zippy sweatshirt. Then, on a whim, I tried on that pair of jeans again. They fit. Snugly, but they fit. I tried on the smaller pair of jeans. They fit great, but unfortunately, society has determined that one must actually have one’s jeans zipped. Stages, though. It’s all a series of steps. I didn’t really anticipate even getting into the smaller pair of jeans, so it was all good.
I modeled my snug but buttoned pair of jeans for Esteban. He clapped with glee because he doesn’t often see me in jeans, but they are his uniform of choice and he thinks I look cute in them. Then, I second-guessed them and went back to the white pants. I mean, I already had the dang sport thong on, might as well wear the correct pants.
Then I pranced (because sometimes I’m like a fine thorough-bred pony) out to the car, guzzling a Diet Coke, and began to bust over to the Ass Splinter bar. I had tried to call Belle several times during the day, but no one had been home. I was pretty certain that she’d be at work but I figured that it wouldn’t hurt to swing by her house and see if her car was there.
It was! I sashayed (because sometimes I am like a tall slender drag queen) up her walk and knocked on her door, to be greeted by a morose, yet still beautiful, Belle. ‘Hey, do you want to go to karaoke?’ I asked, gleeful that she had been home. ‘Sure.’ She said and grabbed her purse. It was such a slick and easy maneuver that I felt like I was getting away with something wicked. I love it when a plan comes together.
We hopped into the Monte and Belle told me about how she had been in a funk and also how she had gotten out of work unusually early. It was fate, I tell you! We zipped (because sometimes the Monte is like a pair of jeans which actually FIT) over to the Ass Splinter bar, where they were just setting up.
I explained to Belle about how we are only allowed ONE BOOK PER TABLE by the Nazi of Karaoke, Karaoke Ma. She has, in the past, actually come and forcefully grabbed a second book from my delicate little fingers.
Pretty Penny showed up, planning on braving the karaoke microphones for essentially the first time in a large venue. Then there were three of us, trying to look at one book. It was ridiculous, because there were a stack of five books sitting up there. Then I decided to use a little diplomacy. I approached Karaoke Gal (daughter of Karaoke Ma and actual owner of the Karaoke Thang) and said ‘Do you think I could take a second book to our table? We have several singers and a lot more coming.’ She looked at me like I was insane. ‘Sure!? Why wouldn’t you?’ I replied ‘Well, Ma has actually come up and taken them away from us and yelled at me and made me feel really bad. Ma made me cry.’ Karaoke Gal laughed. ‘You know Ma!’
I did manage to snap a picture of Karaoke Ma while she was otherwise distracted, belting out ‘Sea Cruise’ I believe. Maybe it was ‘North To Alaska’. I’m not totally certain. I was busy bleeding from my ears. Anyway, here it is. See’ I wasn’t exaggerating. She’s scary.
I pirouetted (because sometimes I am like a russian ballet dancer who wants to defect to the United States) over to the stack of books and took a second book. A glorious second karaoke book! Oh frabjous day. I chortled in my joy.
Quilting Chica Mary popped in and then I was called up to sing ‘Gypsy’. When I went up there, Ma got all excited because she thought I was going to sing ‘Dreams’ by Fleetwood Mac. I told her that I’d try it if she’d like, after ‘Gypsy’, but I had never done it before. Karaoke Gal was excited because apparently Ma always wanted her to sing it and then she wouldn’t have to. Which is funny, because Karaoke Gal is somewhat tone deaf and both of the Karaoke Clan like to hog the stage, so with her acting like it was this big chore that she would have to sing made me giggle.
I sang ‘Gypsy’ and then waited while they switched to ‘Dreams’. Looking out at the audience, Ward and June then waved at me.
They don’t know that I’m putting their picture on the internet. I hope they don’t mind. They’re so cute, aren’t they?
(I love you Mom and Dad! Really! Don’t be mad!)
Oh my god. I got all flustered and turned red for some reason. I hadn’t really expected them to show up and suddenly I felt like a little kid at show and tell. Plus, here I was singing a song cold, one that I had never sung to before. Gah. I think I turned scarlet. But I managed.
Later, Joel and Cheri, No Psuedonym Scott, Jason, and Bonita and her husband Ken filtered in. During one somewhat disturbing moment, the first words Scott said to me were ‘So’. Thong?’ and I was completely flustered. It wouldn’t have been so bad that he knew that I occaisionally wear thongs, but to have him know that at that moment, I was indeed wearing a thong’ EEK! I looked at him and said ‘Shut up!’ because I was all embarrassed. That Scott’ he looks all meek and has this entire sweet Lloyd Dobbler thing going on, but then he shows his wicked evil side.
Pure, unadulterated condensed EEEEVIL!
