Well, it's been (ahem) quite awhile since I've blogged! When I started this sucker, I thought I would have all kinds of things to post about. I mean, I love to talk, often and about anything and everything, so I thought blogging would be right up my alley! Turns out its harder to put those ramblings into a coherent piece.
That said, I'm sitting at my parents with a belly full of Turkey and the satisfaction of a good euchre win, feeling especially contented and happy tonight, and wanted a way to express just how thankful I am. For so many things - the biggies, like a new job which I'm so lucky to have found, a warm bed and plenty of food, a certain fella' who puts up with all of my quirks, neuroses, and ramblings, and of course, my family. My family. I could write a book and still not express my gratitude to my parents, siblings, grandparents, the Rotten Babies, and all the cousins, aunts, and uncles who have been my best friends, biggest cheerleaders, and most strident defenders for the past 30 years.
Moving on to the smaller things - can I tell you how pumped I am that mint Hershey's kisses are once again upon us? WHY do they only make those 3 months out of the year?? And how about holiday movie season? Morning Glory, Unstoppable, Fair Play, Love & Other Drugs, Country Strong. The list goes on. I am so thankful for modern technology so I could watch my 5 year old nephew Henry be "Narrator 2/Pilgrim" in his kindergarten Thanksgiving play. I was so proud of him. Hands down the smartest, handsomest, best actor of the bunch. (Not that I'm biased at all!) Other things that are on my "I'm lovin' it" list at the moment: the new Kid Rock CD; how riveting the new John Grisham book, The Confession is; the new cozy sweater I found at Target and added to my collection; IU BASKETBALL IS BACK!!; listening to the rain on the sky lights; Pegs & Jokers night at the Millers; and, last but not least, the fact that my new bangs turned out cute. Whew - they're a big commitment, folks, and bad bangs can turn a good day sour in a hurry.
Happy Thanksgiving to everyone - I hope you have a great day full of turkey (or ham, pizza - whatever floats your boats), family, laughing, and napping. I know I will!
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
I am a Capital A Adult
So, it's official, I've realized. I'm an Adult. You know, the "capital A" kind of grown up. No longer in my mid-20s, just out of college. How did I come about this realization? It happened slowly. For the past 4 years, I've pretty much thought of myself as just a few years out of college. The new kid on the block at work, the single gal living it up in Broad Ripple...
And then I realized - I'm not the youngest person at work. Hell, I'm not even the 4th youngest at work. The interns call me Ms. Lambert in emails. *shudder*. Read below for more signs of my Adultness...
1. Last birthday, I asked for, and received, prescription sunglasses. And I. WAS. PUMPED! No more having to squint all the way to and from working on my "glasses days" (which are becoming more regular, by the way.) Nope, now I'm prescription sunglasses wearing and proud.
2. I still have a border line obsession with gossip magazines -subscription to People, US Weekly, and Entertainment Weekly? Check, check and check. But, I also currently have a stack of Better Homes and Gardens, Real Simple, and...wait for it...Ladies Home Journal laying by my bed. What can I say? Like a man and his Playboy, I read them for the articles.
3. I have a Roth IRA and a financial planner. Don't really know what that is, but I know I've got one. And I know I'm not supposed to touch it. If that's not grown up, I don't know what is...
4. Oh wait! Yes I do! Being an Adult means living in Broad Ripple and raving about the great locally owned restaurants and boutiques instead of the strip. Landsharks? No thank you. I'll take a Touch of Grass's music in the basement of the Wellington any day of the week.
5. I wake up by 7:45 am on the weekends - without any alarm or parent prodding me to do so. There was a time, in my not so distant past - when I could easily sleep until 10:00 am, no problem. Now, if I sleep past 8:00 am my back hurts and I have to go to the bathroom. Ay yi yi...
6. I've caught myself saying (more than once) "There's no way on earth MY daughters will ever wear shorts that short. My mom wouldn't have let me out of the house." I typically follow up with a disgusted throat clearing noise and reminisce about the prairie length dresses my friends and I sported in high school. :)
So, there you have it. The signs of adulthood. I've got to say, it's not such a bad place to be. I kinda like waking up early(ish) on the weekends, and having time to read to read and sit on my porch. There's something to be said for not wasting half the day sleeping. And yeah, Book Club may be decidedly Adult, but it's fun! There's no shame in not being the young pup anymore.
But, lest you think I'm ready for the retirement home, don't worry...I still have chicken nuggets and tots for dinner once a week, and my DVR regularly records ABC Family originals. So, maybe I'm not totally grown up after all...
And then I realized - I'm not the youngest person at work. Hell, I'm not even the 4th youngest at work. The interns call me Ms. Lambert in emails. *shudder*. Read below for more signs of my Adultness...
1. Last birthday, I asked for, and received, prescription sunglasses. And I. WAS. PUMPED! No more having to squint all the way to and from working on my "glasses days" (which are becoming more regular, by the way.) Nope, now I'm prescription sunglasses wearing and proud.
2. I still have a border line obsession with gossip magazines -subscription to People, US Weekly, and Entertainment Weekly? Check, check and check. But, I also currently have a stack of Better Homes and Gardens, Real Simple, and...wait for it...Ladies Home Journal laying by my bed. What can I say? Like a man and his Playboy, I read them for the articles.
3. I have a Roth IRA and a financial planner. Don't really know what that is, but I know I've got one. And I know I'm not supposed to touch it. If that's not grown up, I don't know what is...
4. Oh wait! Yes I do! Being an Adult means living in Broad Ripple and raving about the great locally owned restaurants and boutiques instead of the strip. Landsharks? No thank you. I'll take a Touch of Grass's music in the basement of the Wellington any day of the week.
5. I wake up by 7:45 am on the weekends - without any alarm or parent prodding me to do so. There was a time, in my not so distant past - when I could easily sleep until 10:00 am, no problem. Now, if I sleep past 8:00 am my back hurts and I have to go to the bathroom. Ay yi yi...
6. I've caught myself saying (more than once) "There's no way on earth MY daughters will ever wear shorts that short. My mom wouldn't have let me out of the house." I typically follow up with a disgusted throat clearing noise and reminisce about the prairie length dresses my friends and I sported in high school. :)
So, there you have it. The signs of adulthood. I've got to say, it's not such a bad place to be. I kinda like waking up early(ish) on the weekends, and having time to read to read and sit on my porch. There's something to be said for not wasting half the day sleeping. And yeah, Book Club may be decidedly Adult, but it's fun! There's no shame in not being the young pup anymore.
But, lest you think I'm ready for the retirement home, don't worry...I still have chicken nuggets and tots for dinner once a week, and my DVR regularly records ABC Family originals. So, maybe I'm not totally grown up after all...
Friday, June 25, 2010
The Lambert/Foster Family Dictionary
A few weekends ago, I went to Tipton and had lunch and visited with my grandpa for well over an hour. It was the perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon. I was purposely asking him questions geared towards getting him to retell the stories I've heard a thousand times. Partly because I love hearing them, but mainly because it makes me so happy when his eyes crinkle up with laughter at a memory from 60 years ago. As I was listening to the story of his Uncle Will's slap-dash accounting system at the furniture store, punctuated with lots of "by hairs!" (Uncle Will's version of OMG), I got to thinking - my family uses a LOT of expressions that I've never heard spoken by anyone outside of my gene pool. I'm sure all families do this - I just happen to be familiar with the Lambert/Foster language. I've decided to make a reference sheet so that the next time I bring a guest home to Tipton he or she won't feel like they've ventured into a foreign land. So, I present to you "The Lambert/Foster Family Dictionary".
1.) Ya-Hootie: the little invisible person who takes the blame for something that no one else in the family wants to claim. Used in a sentence, "Ew, who farted?" Silence, followed up by, "Must have been Ya-Hootie." I'm pretty sure Ya-Hootie is behind my missing Christmas decorations. Lord knows I didn't lose them.
2.) Moose Pie: an expression used to shut someone up who is continually griping about dinner, or the way you arranged the furniture, or any number of other things. Originates from a story about an all-male camping trip, and a rule that the next person who complains about dinner has to cook the next meal. Finally, after days of making every meal, the cook makes a "Moose Pie" (moose-shit.) Biting in to it, his fellow campers start to complain, only to quickly wisen up and exclaim, "Moose pie! My favorite." I get secret satisfaction out of saying moose pie to people who have no idea what I'm talking about it. Got to love a little passive aggressivism.
3.) Horse of a Different Color!: Something I heard my grandparents say so many times it's snuck into my vernacular. Used to exclaim surprise at something (someone!) that is weird or different. Often spoken in hushed tones. "Well, he's always been a horse of a different color...". Perhaps the red neck version of the Southerner's favorite, "Bless her heart..."
4.) That's a Fine How Do You Do: interchangeable with "that's a kick in the pants." Example: "Lindsay woke up Saturday morning at her parent's only to find out her dad had backed into her car the night before. She muttered under her breath, well that's a fine how do you do."
5.) By Hair!: A catch-all phrase to express exasperation, astonishment, anger, surprise...the antiquated WTF or OMG. Try it, you'll think it's fun to say!
6.) What do you want, eggs in your beer?: In other words, quit being so damned needy. Used frequently by my mom. One of my favorites.
7.) Get the Banana Out!: Used when you've had to repeat something more than twice. Comes from the popular Lambert question, "Do you have a banana in your ear??" Usually said with indignation to my dad as he sits amidst chaos and does his crossword, ignoring all attempts at communication. Where the origin of the banana in the ear scenario comes from, I can only imagine.
8.) Don't Take Any Wooden Nickels!: A much more fun way of saying good-bye, this is a sentimental favorite. Every time I left my grandparent's house, my grandpa would say, "Don't take any wooden nickels!", usually followed up with "Come back when you can stay longer" or "see you in the funny papers."
9.) Well I'll be dipped...: An expression of bewilderment or surprise. I once asked my mom what exactly she was dipped in. She thought about it for a few seconds, and offered up this: shit?.
10.) Fart in a skillet: a person who is decidedly agitated and can't sit still. Example: "Nate was acting like a fart in a skillet today at the restaurant." A favorite of my grandmas.
11.) EEE-AH-KEY: A different version of "yoohoo...", usually said in a sing-song voice - it's a hello and a way to announce one's presence. Because we wouldn't just want to say "hello". What fun would that be?
What am I missing Lamberts and Fosters? And what about the rest of you? Any family sayings that make you scratch your head?
1.) Ya-Hootie: the little invisible person who takes the blame for something that no one else in the family wants to claim. Used in a sentence, "Ew, who farted?" Silence, followed up by, "Must have been Ya-Hootie." I'm pretty sure Ya-Hootie is behind my missing Christmas decorations. Lord knows I didn't lose them.
2.) Moose Pie: an expression used to shut someone up who is continually griping about dinner, or the way you arranged the furniture, or any number of other things. Originates from a story about an all-male camping trip, and a rule that the next person who complains about dinner has to cook the next meal. Finally, after days of making every meal, the cook makes a "Moose Pie" (moose-shit.) Biting in to it, his fellow campers start to complain, only to quickly wisen up and exclaim, "Moose pie! My favorite." I get secret satisfaction out of saying moose pie to people who have no idea what I'm talking about it. Got to love a little passive aggressivism.
3.) Horse of a Different Color!: Something I heard my grandparents say so many times it's snuck into my vernacular. Used to exclaim surprise at something (someone!) that is weird or different. Often spoken in hushed tones. "Well, he's always been a horse of a different color...". Perhaps the red neck version of the Southerner's favorite, "Bless her heart..."
4.) That's a Fine How Do You Do: interchangeable with "that's a kick in the pants." Example: "Lindsay woke up Saturday morning at her parent's only to find out her dad had backed into her car the night before. She muttered under her breath, well that's a fine how do you do."
5.) By Hair!: A catch-all phrase to express exasperation, astonishment, anger, surprise...the antiquated WTF or OMG. Try it, you'll think it's fun to say!
6.) What do you want, eggs in your beer?: In other words, quit being so damned needy. Used frequently by my mom. One of my favorites.
7.) Get the Banana Out!: Used when you've had to repeat something more than twice. Comes from the popular Lambert question, "Do you have a banana in your ear??" Usually said with indignation to my dad as he sits amidst chaos and does his crossword, ignoring all attempts at communication. Where the origin of the banana in the ear scenario comes from, I can only imagine.
8.) Don't Take Any Wooden Nickels!: A much more fun way of saying good-bye, this is a sentimental favorite. Every time I left my grandparent's house, my grandpa would say, "Don't take any wooden nickels!", usually followed up with "Come back when you can stay longer" or "see you in the funny papers."
9.) Well I'll be dipped...: An expression of bewilderment or surprise. I once asked my mom what exactly she was dipped in. She thought about it for a few seconds, and offered up this: shit?.
10.) Fart in a skillet: a person who is decidedly agitated and can't sit still. Example: "Nate was acting like a fart in a skillet today at the restaurant." A favorite of my grandmas.
11.) EEE-AH-KEY: A different version of "yoohoo...", usually said in a sing-song voice - it's a hello and a way to announce one's presence. Because we wouldn't just want to say "hello". What fun would that be?
What am I missing Lamberts and Fosters? And what about the rest of you? Any family sayings that make you scratch your head?
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Writer? Interior Decorator?...
Do you ever wonder what you would do if you didn't do what you did? (How's that for one really confusing sentence.) I love my job - it gives me a sense of purpose, a feeling of satisfaction that I've really made a difference, and a whole mess of vacation days. I'm totally content and happy with where I am right now.
That said, I still like to dream sometimes about what I would do or who I would be if I wasn't working for Special Olympics Indiana. Since I was in middle school, I've always wanted to be a writer. Truth be told, I still want to. Turns out, that's a bit easier said than done. I've got lots of great ideas and opening pages - turning those thoughts and scraps of stories into a cohesive piece is a bit trickier. I love to read, which is one of the prerequisites to writing. If reading alone made one qualified to be an author, then consider me the next JK Rowling! Perhaps I could be a professional reader...?
I had a concentration in Creative Writing in college - I loved going to those classes. They were always at night, always in Ballentine Hall, and I always stuck out like a sore thumb. I didn't wear ankle bracelets with bells on them, I didn't suck down cigarettes before class, and I didn't write about ghosts/drug trips/vampires. I realize that is a vast stereotype of writers, but, 99% of my peers in my writing classes fit into one of those of molds. I think a lot of my classmates had an idea of how a writer was supposed to behave and a naive, wide eyed optimist from Tipton didn't quite fit the bill. I always felt a bit like a fish out of water in those classes, but I dug them just the same. It was fun to be around people so different from my normal group of friends. I need to make myself write more - it's something I love doing, but never seem to have the time and/or discipline to do.
When I'm not dreaming up the author picture for my New York Times best seller, I fancy myself an interior decorator. There are few things I like more than strolling the home sections of Target or Homegoods. Picture frames, bathroom rugs, candles, decorative clocks - love them all. Whenever I move to a new place, I don't stop unpacking and "nesting" until I have all my picture frames set out, my books lined on a shelf, and my jewelry displayed on my dresser. I don't feel at home or settled until I'm surrounded by the things I love. I think there is something very comforting about designing a room that makes you feel content when you enter. I love laying in bed at night and looking at pictures from vacations,remembering my trip to the tango bar in Argentina, or looking at the boat my grandpa made me and thinking of sitting beside him at the bar in his kitchen, his giant size 14 feet pointed out, while he painstakingly painted his latest model.
Someday, when I have a house that is all my own, I will decorate EXACTLY as I want. I want a yellow kitchen with polka dot dishes and cheery curtains to frame the window above my sink; my bathroom will be an oceany blue with a soft fluffy white rug to set outside my big tub; I want a porch with a porch swing, and a cozy library with a fireplace and floor to ceiling bookshelves. I'll blow up a picture of Cabin 16 at Lochaven Lodge and hang it over the fireplace and drift away to Canada whenever I need a stress reliever. I want my house to be the kind of place where people hang out in the (yellow) kitchen and feel cozy. It won't be immaculate, but it will be warm and inviting. Take your shoes off, or keep them on. It doesn't matter to me. Throw your purse on the floor, and pull up a chair.
Who knows...maybe that house will have a nook in the attic that would be just perfect for a desk and a computer. You know, the type of place a gal could do some serious writing in...
Friday, May 28, 2010
A whole weekend...to do whatever I want...sigh
So, as I'm writing this I'm sitting on the couch, listening to my Itunes (which I discovered a decade late but am really digging) and thinking about how happy I am to have a weekend to do WHATEVER. I. WANT. I'm a big believer in keeping busy and getting out and doing things, but man, this past month has been rough.
I've been sick - and I don't just mean a little cough - but hacking, snotting, barking sick since I got home from Colorado on April 8. It has worn me down. I have taken every cold/allergy medicine under the sun, to no avail. I will just think it's starting to get better, and wham! The bark is back. My co-workers have diagnosed me with everything from pneumonia to whooping cough, to, my personal favorite: black lung. Anyway, I'm finally on antibiotics and am starting to feel human again and have energy back.
Energy that I will spend this weekend doing a whole lot of nothing. I'm saving up for Summer Games - beginning this Tuesday at 8:00 am it will be all out crazy for the next 5 days. Good crazy, don't get me wrong, but the kind of crazy that requires a lot of energy. Those volunteers don't assign themselves, you know. :)
My plans for the weekend, you ask? Well, tonight I book clubbed it with the girls and saw Sex and the City 2. It was, disappointingly, a dud. But, on the upside, the "Miranda Midori Sour" I had beforehand was delish! The remainder of tonight's evening will be spent reading US Weekly and Entertainment Weekly in bed. Tomorrow is sleeping in and DVR catch up time. I think a nap is probably a necessity at some point, followed by going to a cook out for my sister's birthday. My plan is to be in bed by 10:00 tomorrow night. Does that make me lame? Quite possibly. But it also makes me a very rested, happy person. Remember, I'm running on a 6 week deficit here, people.
Sunday I'm spending with some of my favorite ladies walking the canal and doing lunch - granted, one of them will be rolling in her stroller, but she's still a great conversationalist. I'm talking about you Olivia. :) Then, for the piece de resistance - I'm headed to my get-away. The place I can go relax and turn off while I'm there. No, no, not Brown County. Not French Lick. I'll be escaping to Tipton, and quite frankly, I can't wait. I plan to lay by my parent's pool, drink South Pole cokes, and, well, that's it.
The thing is, I know that someday I won't have these weekends anymore when I can do whatever the heck I want, whenever the heck I want to. I'll have kids lunches to make, a husband to worry about, and *shudder* a houseful of laundry to tend to. So, until that time rolls around, I intend to make the most of my time. I'm making a concerted effort to be happy, really, truly happy, at every stage of my life in which I currently find myself, and not constantly wishing for the next stage to present itself. Because, quite frankly, my current state is pretty great. And now I'm off to enjoy it.
I've been sick - and I don't just mean a little cough - but hacking, snotting, barking sick since I got home from Colorado on April 8. It has worn me down. I have taken every cold/allergy medicine under the sun, to no avail. I will just think it's starting to get better, and wham! The bark is back. My co-workers have diagnosed me with everything from pneumonia to whooping cough, to, my personal favorite: black lung. Anyway, I'm finally on antibiotics and am starting to feel human again and have energy back.
Energy that I will spend this weekend doing a whole lot of nothing. I'm saving up for Summer Games - beginning this Tuesday at 8:00 am it will be all out crazy for the next 5 days. Good crazy, don't get me wrong, but the kind of crazy that requires a lot of energy. Those volunteers don't assign themselves, you know. :)
My plans for the weekend, you ask? Well, tonight I book clubbed it with the girls and saw Sex and the City 2. It was, disappointingly, a dud. But, on the upside, the "Miranda Midori Sour" I had beforehand was delish! The remainder of tonight's evening will be spent reading US Weekly and Entertainment Weekly in bed. Tomorrow is sleeping in and DVR catch up time. I think a nap is probably a necessity at some point, followed by going to a cook out for my sister's birthday. My plan is to be in bed by 10:00 tomorrow night. Does that make me lame? Quite possibly. But it also makes me a very rested, happy person. Remember, I'm running on a 6 week deficit here, people.
Sunday I'm spending with some of my favorite ladies walking the canal and doing lunch - granted, one of them will be rolling in her stroller, but she's still a great conversationalist. I'm talking about you Olivia. :) Then, for the piece de resistance - I'm headed to my get-away. The place I can go relax and turn off while I'm there. No, no, not Brown County. Not French Lick. I'll be escaping to Tipton, and quite frankly, I can't wait. I plan to lay by my parent's pool, drink South Pole cokes, and, well, that's it.
The thing is, I know that someday I won't have these weekends anymore when I can do whatever the heck I want, whenever the heck I want to. I'll have kids lunches to make, a husband to worry about, and *shudder* a houseful of laundry to tend to. So, until that time rolls around, I intend to make the most of my time. I'm making a concerted effort to be happy, really, truly happy, at every stage of my life in which I currently find myself, and not constantly wishing for the next stage to present itself. Because, quite frankly, my current state is pretty great. And now I'm off to enjoy it.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Living on a Prayer...like a virgin...
So, I'm so excited about my blogging topic I don't even have time to apologize about how long it's been since my last blog. It's just that great.
I've been feeling the urge to blog for awhile, but I just couldn't come up with a great topic, and then, it hit me: karaoke!! What is more universally loved by Japanese business man, drunk sorority girls, Vegas lounge singers, and...well, me...than a little good ol' fashioned karaoke?
I've always been a bit of a karaoke hound. I'm not one of those people who needs to be drunk to take to the stage (although it certainly doesn't hurt...). There's just something about the amazing awkward cheesiness of it that I love. Because let's face it, even if you're a good singer, karaoke is still damned funny.
Last weekend, I went to the Living Room Lounge, which is basically the Indianapolis equivalent of the infamous Windfall Buckhhorn Bar and Grill. Those of you who have been to the Buck will get the analogy - those of you who've never been to the Buck, I'm sorry. It was a great, great place in it's hey day. So, back to the LLR - picture a total dive bar filled with a blender full of all different types of people. You've got your hipsters in skinny jeans and Buddy Holly glasses, your factory workers who came in for an after work beer and never left, your pseudo-thugs, and...me and Lin Beck. Yup, that's right. Lin and I ended up at the Lounge at the same time, and decided it would be a good idea to karoake. So we did. And boy was it BAD. Which brings me to my favorite thing about karaoke - the worse the singer, the better the experience. Don't you just love that moment when someone is walking up to the stage, and you try and guess if they'll be good (usually not) or bad (hope so!) Sometimes they throw me for a loop, like the 300 lb man who sang "Hit Me Baby One More Time" better than Britney Spears. Or when Ali Havens sang "These Boots are Made for Walkin".
But I digress - back to Lin and I. We decided to sing "All Summer Long" by Kid Rock. Great song; I love the Kid. So, we go skipping up there, all giggly and excited, ready to wow the crowd. The opening notes come on, and a hipster up front starts "whoo-ing" and even did a fist pump. I look over at Lin with an excited smile - yes, a fan!! So, here's the thing about that song - it's, um, loooong. Picture this: our mikes don't work (could have been user error, could have been the KJ's plan...), Lin doesn't know the words, I'm tone deaf, we real quickly lose our lone fan, and then...50 bar instrumental break. Shit. What in the heck are we supposed to do for that long? In my case, laugh so hard that I literally almost peed myself. When the song finally, mercifully, ended, I threw my mike at Lin and galloped off the stage. I was so afraid the KJ was mad I couldn't even look at him. (We weren't met by roaring applause, in case you wondered).
Speaking of the KJ - the all powerful Karaoke Jockey - have you ever noticed they're always an odd combination of grouchy and perverted? Like, they're just so damned mad their dreams of stardom and fame didn't pan out (they always seem to fancy themselves tremendous singers) and they're stuck in this joint listening to drunk underage Kappas sing "I Touch Myself", yet at the same time they're thinking..."Damn! I'm a 55 year old, chubby white dude and I get paid to listen to sorority chicks sing about touching themselves...". They're a strange breed of cats, KJs. I used to go to Bears for karaoke every Thursday night in Bloomington - the KJ there went by the handle Karaoke Kev. He always wore a shirt that said "300 pounds of Sheer Terror". He weighed 90 pounds soaking wet - maybe. And yup, he was pervy. But I loved him, and have many a picture of him, me, and my roommates.
So - the next time you're around downtown Indy, do yourself a favorite, and head to the Living Room Lounge on Friday Night. If you see an almost 30 year old girl heading to the stage with a maniacal look of glee in her eyes who appears to have no musical talent whatsoever, please cheer loudly.
Oh, and the other reason I love karaoke - it is the HARDEST word in the world to remember how to spell. Pretty sure I've spelled it wrong 20 times in this blog. And I don't even care, I love it that much.
I've been feeling the urge to blog for awhile, but I just couldn't come up with a great topic, and then, it hit me: karaoke!! What is more universally loved by Japanese business man, drunk sorority girls, Vegas lounge singers, and...well, me...than a little good ol' fashioned karaoke?
I've always been a bit of a karaoke hound. I'm not one of those people who needs to be drunk to take to the stage (although it certainly doesn't hurt...). There's just something about the amazing awkward cheesiness of it that I love. Because let's face it, even if you're a good singer, karaoke is still damned funny.
Last weekend, I went to the Living Room Lounge, which is basically the Indianapolis equivalent of the infamous Windfall Buckhhorn Bar and Grill. Those of you who have been to the Buck will get the analogy - those of you who've never been to the Buck, I'm sorry. It was a great, great place in it's hey day. So, back to the LLR - picture a total dive bar filled with a blender full of all different types of people. You've got your hipsters in skinny jeans and Buddy Holly glasses, your factory workers who came in for an after work beer and never left, your pseudo-thugs, and...me and Lin Beck. Yup, that's right. Lin and I ended up at the Lounge at the same time, and decided it would be a good idea to karoake. So we did. And boy was it BAD. Which brings me to my favorite thing about karaoke - the worse the singer, the better the experience. Don't you just love that moment when someone is walking up to the stage, and you try and guess if they'll be good (usually not) or bad (hope so!) Sometimes they throw me for a loop, like the 300 lb man who sang "Hit Me Baby One More Time" better than Britney Spears. Or when Ali Havens sang "These Boots are Made for Walkin".
But I digress - back to Lin and I. We decided to sing "All Summer Long" by Kid Rock. Great song; I love the Kid. So, we go skipping up there, all giggly and excited, ready to wow the crowd. The opening notes come on, and a hipster up front starts "whoo-ing" and even did a fist pump. I look over at Lin with an excited smile - yes, a fan!! So, here's the thing about that song - it's, um, loooong. Picture this: our mikes don't work (could have been user error, could have been the KJ's plan...), Lin doesn't know the words, I'm tone deaf, we real quickly lose our lone fan, and then...50 bar instrumental break. Shit. What in the heck are we supposed to do for that long? In my case, laugh so hard that I literally almost peed myself. When the song finally, mercifully, ended, I threw my mike at Lin and galloped off the stage. I was so afraid the KJ was mad I couldn't even look at him. (We weren't met by roaring applause, in case you wondered).
Speaking of the KJ - the all powerful Karaoke Jockey - have you ever noticed they're always an odd combination of grouchy and perverted? Like, they're just so damned mad their dreams of stardom and fame didn't pan out (they always seem to fancy themselves tremendous singers) and they're stuck in this joint listening to drunk underage Kappas sing "I Touch Myself", yet at the same time they're thinking..."Damn! I'm a 55 year old, chubby white dude and I get paid to listen to sorority chicks sing about touching themselves...". They're a strange breed of cats, KJs. I used to go to Bears for karaoke every Thursday night in Bloomington - the KJ there went by the handle Karaoke Kev. He always wore a shirt that said "300 pounds of Sheer Terror". He weighed 90 pounds soaking wet - maybe. And yup, he was pervy. But I loved him, and have many a picture of him, me, and my roommates.
So - the next time you're around downtown Indy, do yourself a favorite, and head to the Living Room Lounge on Friday Night. If you see an almost 30 year old girl heading to the stage with a maniacal look of glee in her eyes who appears to have no musical talent whatsoever, please cheer loudly.
Oh, and the other reason I love karaoke - it is the HARDEST word in the world to remember how to spell. Pretty sure I've spelled it wrong 20 times in this blog. And I don't even care, I love it that much.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Random Musings...
Well, once again, I'm starting off my blog for apologizing for how long it's been since I last posted. I'm coming off of working our annual State Conference, so I'm a little loopy right now. There is no "theme" to this blog - just some random thoughts that have been runnin' through my head. For those of you who know me (and that's probably everyone, b/c otherwise why would you be reading this blog) you'll know that I have some random thoughts. Here goes...
What do they put in Orange Crush to make it so damned good? Honestly, is there any soft drink better than orange drinks? I think not.
How is it that I find myself invited to 4 Super Bowl parties when I haven't watched one game this year? Nothing against the Colts - I just hate football.
I just found out that all of the Fazoli's in Indianapolis used to be Rax - who knew??
How on earth are these girls on 16 and Pregnant worried about being pregnant again??? It's called birth control ladies, and you can get it for less than the cost of a movie at your local Planned Parenthood. Or, better yet, it's called abstinence...
Is Lady Gaga really a man/transvestite/hermaphrodite?
Am I the only person left who still watches Celebrity Apprentice and LOVES it? I mean, really, really loves it.
Some words I've noticed that people over 75 use: "programs = tv shows", "slacks = work pants", "dinner = supper", and so on.
All right, that's all I've got. Over and out.
What do they put in Orange Crush to make it so damned good? Honestly, is there any soft drink better than orange drinks? I think not.
How is it that I find myself invited to 4 Super Bowl parties when I haven't watched one game this year? Nothing against the Colts - I just hate football.
I just found out that all of the Fazoli's in Indianapolis used to be Rax - who knew??
How on earth are these girls on 16 and Pregnant worried about being pregnant again??? It's called birth control ladies, and you can get it for less than the cost of a movie at your local Planned Parenthood. Or, better yet, it's called abstinence...
Is Lady Gaga really a man/transvestite/hermaphrodite?
Am I the only person left who still watches Celebrity Apprentice and LOVES it? I mean, really, really loves it.
Some words I've noticed that people over 75 use: "programs = tv shows", "slacks = work pants", "dinner = supper", and so on.
All right, that's all I've got. Over and out.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)