If you haven't heard me karaoke, then you're missing out on a delightful treat. Fumblebrewski Sports Bar and Grill has karaoke night every Thursday from 6-10. So...that's where I am every Thursday evening. Lately, Thursdays have really had me thinking "Why do the worst singers flock to karaoke night to humiliate themselves?" Obviously I'm not talking about myself because I do the best Cher "If I Could Turn Back Time" impersonation. If I had a video I'd post it but unfortunately I do not. Some of you may have your doubts on my ability to sound like the Gypsy, Tramps, and Thieves mastermind (she sounds like a man so I'm not sure why you have your doubts) but one thing is for sure and that's that I do a better job than Jack:
That is one of my favorite clips from any television show I've ever seen. Shout out to Remy Cross on that note. Besides all of the talented karaoke singers (which are incredibly rare), there are three other categories to divide the attention-getters and showgoers: Terrible-Yet-Think-You-Are-Celine, Terrible-And-You-Know-It, and children.
I'm just going to provide videos for these because words can not explain the emotion behind the sounds of these people.
Terrible Yet Think You Are Celine:
I videoed this and it is %100 real and %100 serious. His name is "Journey".
Terrible and You Know It:
I'm pretty this song is difficult to sing for anyone.
Children:
Precious in every way. This was post-Christmas which makes it even more precious.
I just completed my first homework assignment of the semester....yay. Also, I just bought the coolest nail polish. It's Sephora by OPI Matte, and it makes your fingernails looks so cool. Here's a pic:
I highly suggest it in navy, actually don't do navy. Be original...or something. BYE.
I just started my new job at Vertigo Boutique and was without a job for a little while so I'd keep having to ask my parents for money. This past Sunday I made plans to head to the National Championship. Being the responsible young adult that I am, I gathered $10.32 in change (technically $9.52, thanks Coin Star) and sold a couple of clothes at Plato's Closet (I know.) because I felt bad asking for yet another loan from the rents. For all you non-mathematics, I only scrounged up about $18. I had to ask for money anyways, but it's the thought that counts.
For Christmas, Grayson bought the four of us (Hannah, Mallory, Haley, and I) Modern Family Season 2. I was giddier than a child hearing the ice cream truck. On top of receiving that wonderful gift, I figured out that my car can play DVDs. Needless to say, Modern Family makes the three and a half hour drive to Baton Rouge fly by with ease (the McDonald's that I consumed three separate times that day helped too...p90x my arse.).
I stayed in Baton Rouge Sunday night at Helen and Meredith's apartment along with M'lynn where we watched Harry Potter and I turned myself into Hagrid.
The next morning we were up and about. By 12:30 we'd been drinking pretty heavily and once we got to the Bourbon Cowboy it was bad news from that point on. Almost every bar on Bourbon was filled with Bama fans. At the BC (see what I did there?), for some idiotic reason they started playing "Sweet Home Alabama" (if you haven't vommed a little bit yet, you're soon going to.) and after the first verse "Sweet home Alabama....(pause) ROLL TIDE ROLL!" As if they weren't obnoxious enough. So I stole the microphone from some dude who was "in charge" (if you work on Bourbon Street and are "in charge" you don't let that song play...duh.) and began screaming "GEAUX TIGERS" and maybe a few other words that seemed offensive at the time.
We headed upstairs because it wasn't as crowded (and it was 3-for-1 shots) and that's when we met Joe ( at least that's what Helen thinks his name was). He complimented my sequin skirt (which was actually a dress) and touched it. It was disturbing. After the BC (abbrevs), we met up with some friends outside on Bourbon where I bought a purple and gold feather boa and a t-shirt that at the time I didn't understand I just wanted it because it was being paraded around on a seven foot pole and caught my attention:
Yeah I just took this on my IPHONE 4S. I had a go phone for six months so I have every right to brag.
Before we headed out to Lucy's and The Attic, we ran into Joe one last time and I convinced him to take a picture with me:
I think I was seriously hurting this poor old man. But he was going for Bama, so who cares?
I thought I was the sneakiest Tiger fan of the day and in doing so I racked in about 300 high fives. I would go up to LSU fans and say Geaux Tigers to multiple groups of people and they'd return my friendly hand gesture. Then I'd go up to Bama fans and say "ROLL!..." and in during the pause I'd high five them then shout "TIGERS!!!!!!!" and then laugh in their faces and call them imbeciles. Idiots...them Alabama folks be.
At The Attic they projected the game on the wall so that was cool. On the road down to Nola, Helen had dared me to kiss a Bama fan and I said no. Then I met a Bama fan who asked Helen if my goal was to kiss a Bama fan and being the friend that she is told him "Actually, I dared her to on the way here." He made a bet with me "If Alabama gets a first down...." or "If Alabama scores here...."; having faith in the Tigers (which I shouldn't have) I accepted, and yeah.
On the way out the door, I fell down the stairs and people had to help me up. Quinn had to navigate drunken me through New Orleans to get to the car which was in drive, and she did it successfully. Go Quinn! Also I think I asked some random men (always a good idea!) and they didn't mug/molest me so it was successful all around!
The next morning, I woke up writhing in pain. I couldn't turn my head to the right or my body would cramp up and then go loose. It was the biggest biatch. So, after sitting on Helen and Quinn's couch for three hours with a heating pad (looking more pitiful than ever) I decided to go home. I literally had to sit sideways in my car just so I could see the road. FUN.
I still couldn't turn my head the next day and at lunch I actually shouted in pain, so I decided to go to the Quick Care thing:
I got to do some pretty gnarly x-rays and they showed my lungs holding in air. It was really cool. But then they gave me a shot in the ass. Not that cool. But then they gave me medication. Cool. That didn't work. Not that cool. I still can't really turn my head any, but my neck doesn't have too bad of spasms anymore which is pretty tight. Get it? Pretty tight, because my muscles are so tight I can't move my neck? Comedy hour is on Friday at 6, see y'all there!
This past weekend I went to my first wedding to actually drink at:
The wedding was right outside of Baton Rouge, so before we left, my dad (being the good dad that he is) made my date and I come to KTBS so they could properly meet before sending his daughter away with a potential psychopathic murderer. I wish I would've had a video camera to film this because it was humiliating in every single way possible. A) I was already nervous because I didn't know what my dad was going to say to him. B) We get to KTBS before my dad and I'm being silent because I'm horrified. C) Papa Tim arrives and scares the living day lights out of me (probably him too). Never have I ever (broken a bone...) heard him talk like this before...here are bits and pieces "This is my only daughter, the light of my life, you will not let her get hurt..." "Her last one was a piece of..." "I could have killed..." "How long have you known her?" "What are the sleeping arrangements?" Basically everything you do not want your father to say to a guy you're going to a wedding with...he said it all. But he meant it for good purposes, I would be THTH (too hard to handle hehe) if I didn't have a dad check up on me like that. Thanks Pops.
After the car ride to Baton Rouge that consisted of me making horrible awkward noises despite the previous conversation with my father, we got ready to go eat. Note: All of the people we hung out with were 24+; I am 20...and with poor fake i.d.'s. Seriously...ones from Boneville, Indiana and has shiny keys all over it. Thanks Copy Cats. Right when we got to Baton Rouge, I got a new fake i.d. that came with a debit card that wasn't working anymore, so it would be legitimate. We went and ate at Superior and I got legit drunk off of one margarita. It was pathetic, I'm usually a tank. Seriously. No, really. After Superior, we had to pick up something for someone at the gas station (sounds sketchy), since I was already tipsy I figured it would be a "great idea" for me to go in. So as I'm holding up the line at Circle K, my card would not work. My bad. It was the broken debit card the whole time. Some random guy offered to pay for my stuff but I didn't accept, I bought him a Tootsie Pop, he was gracious.
At every bar we went to, it was a more mature crowd than the regs at Bogie's. So basically I didn't fit in at all. I got carded every time and they didn't believe it was me but then I'd whip out the broken debit card and all doubt was lost. At The Cove (they have over 100 hundred great beers, Leffe Blond beer is delicious), no one thought it would be a good idea to tell me that Adam Devine from Workaholics was there:
I know. I was upset. So I did the most logical thing and stalked his "agents" which I'm pretty sure were not his "agents" and they were just his posse. But I creeped on them for a while and after they name dropped like crazy, I left them alone in anger.
The next day is the wedding. Bum bum bum. After getting ready (we both looked quite dapper I must say), we met up with two of Date's friends and caravan-ed to the middle of nowhere aka Gonzales. The wedding was outside of Oak Alley Plantation:
Extremely beautiful wedding, seriously.
In the beginning of December at SEVEN P.M. Needless to say...it was frigid. We four sat together and the entire time made funny (borderline bautchy...OK bautchy) comments about the bride because apparently no one liked her. After the bridal party was at the alter...everyone was waiting on the bride, so long that people stopped looking behind their shoulders. Finally, I turned to the left and I see this:
Not the exact girl.
Except it was at night time, she was riding inside of it, it was lit up with Christmas lights, and instead of just riding up to the altar, she rode it around the entire wedding crowd. The horse was all white. Come on. Really? At first I thought how incredibly obnoxious and over the top it was, but now I'm starting to ponder the idea for my own wedding one day.....wait...ha ha no, I'm not.
After the ceremony, two people were right there holding the most delicious foods I've ever tasted: bacon wrapped shrimp and hush puppies filled with crawfish etoufee. If your mouth isn't watering then you have no taste buds or an imagination.
The band started playing and I started drinking doubles..."She's a Brick House" came on......
And the dude singing invited me and a few other girls (including the bride) on stage (my second home for those who don't know me) and fortunately I got in the front right by the mic. He ended up thinking it was my birthday when really all I told him was "I want you for my birthday!" Eh...seems a bit provocative now. He turned around to dance with the bride and I began to provocatively dance behind him...some people thought it was funny, others probably disturbing. I do what I want.
I think i ruined every picture the bride and groom danced in by being in the background. Then I took a picture with the bride who I have never talked to nor seen in my entire life. She told me "It was so good to see you!" Yeah right, go get on your horse and carriage and ride away into the darkness of marriage.
After the wedding and the bar, we made a pit stop before the cab dropped us off at my apartment (that I don't live in but still pay rent...speaking of I'M LOOKING FOR A ROOMMATE) at McDonald's. We thought we were super hungry so we ordered 40 chicken nuggets, a large fry, and 8 barbecue sauces. We ate probably 12 of them in total.
To end this magical weekend, Date kept complimenting the pants that I was wearing, and I don't take compliments well but I sucked it up and said thank you (I know, SUCH a difficult thing to do) and when I got home I realized I had a HUGE hole, right in the dead center of them. Never saying thank you for a compliment again because it will bite you in the arse...literally.
