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.
Friday, May 28, 2010
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.
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