is called a fluffle. You’re welcome
A Group of Bunnies
Tag: girl blog
Question? : Why does every man love karaoke?
Seriously…
Every man I love, loves karaoke and I have no idea why.
I mean, it’s all fun and games 90 seconds into ‘Eye of the Tiger‘ with the dreamy guy from accounting* who always playfully tosses paperclips in your hair as he walks by ~swoon~ but, by the time Jim from accounts payable slides into the second verse of ‘Rhinestone Cowboy‘ … I’m pretty sure I want to die.
So why do the guys always insist on dragging me out to listen to their rendition of ‘Baby got Back?’ Here are some thoughts**…
A) I need to be drunker. Perhaps the answer lies in chemistry, and by chemistry I mean ethanol, and by ethanol I mean alcohol and by using the word ethanol I mean, I am a huge nerd.
Saying ‘yes’ to getting crazy black-out drunk is a must. This is 90% of my problem. I’m not much of a drinker and I hypothesize that karaoke is exponentially more fun with increased boozahol consumption. So bring on the shots.
B) Balls. As a female human I lack the physical man(ha!)ifestation of testosterone that are balls. I mean figuratively, I’VE GOT BALLS… just not the kind that can be wipped out at the company Christmas party to make your co-workers laugh/vomit.
Soooooooo….I’m going to make a scientific leap and assume that they have some magical property that makes people singing off key sound less like screeching toddlers and more like Celine Dion. Maybe some sort of tone modulation, though they seem a bit far from the ears for that. Alas, just adding another veil to the mystery that is the conundrum of male anatomy. Man nipples, I’m looking at you.
C) Shame. I blame it on Disney princesses, those bitches have some serious skillz when it comes to charming men and small animals with song. I, while being in choir my whole life, have yet to have a single sparrow land on my finger breaking into a duet of ‘Once Upon a Dream.’
The men in my life seem to not give a shit, in general. So shame is not really an issue.
Honorable Mention: There’s also something about holding a phallic microphone to my face in front of a room full of strangers that makes me a wee bit uncomfortable. If I just ruined microphones for you forever, you’re welcome.
I should end this by saying that I support the smaller, private-style karaoke venues. The atmosphere is usually a lot more ‘kindergarten sing-a-long’, less night at the Grand Ole Orey.
If you’re ever in Seattle at the Rock Box, I’ll meet you there; alcohol, balls, and shame on my mind. Wait, no…or maybe yes?
*I’m lying, there is no boy from accounting…maybe there would be…if we even had an accounting department! *runs out of room sobbing (R.O.R.S.)
**None of these rules apply to this situation. Paul Rudd, I love you….did things just get weird. Sorry, I’ll ease back on the Rudd crush. I love him so much!
Gluten Free…Really? Seriously?….crap
Pasta? love it. Bread? loove it. Dounts? I would battle Homer Simpson to the death over the last sprinkle. Migraines? Bain of my existence. They cause vertigo if I don’t my preventative medication daily…yes, daily…for 3 years. Though, in general, the side effects from my meds stay sidelined; occasionally they get in the way of living like a regular person. Also, if I ever want to have kids I have to ditch the meds cuz I can’t take them while prego. Major downer reporting for depression duty.
….So, I am going to try to abstaining from the church of wheat for 2 weeks. A zillion friends have heard my migraine woes and immediately ask if I’ve tried giving up gluten to which I reply “Nah, I’d have to get my shit together for that.”
Well hold your breath peeps, it’s time…shit gathered (Ew. Did I just type that? Sorry…the imagery.)
Today, November 1st is the first day of my gluten-free life (aka the most boring sitcom ever) and I am glad to report that I have managed to stay gluten free despite being tempted by mountains of my favorite candy…
Granted I ate like 15 ‘fun size’ packages yesterday in prep for today and I also ate a maple bar from Top Pot. What? It WAS HALLOWEEN!?
*Note: I have a sensitivity to caffeine so I can’t eat chocolate (I know, I should probably just kill myself. Living without brownies is not really LIVING, is it?) so I cannot eat my real favorite candy, aka Snickers…so many Snicker. I love you. *drool
Anyhoodle…gluten, I will try to keep a log of my thoughts about gluten and any tips or tricks I pick up…also any gluten free snacks I dig. Like these!!
6/8 of my co-workers agree that they will take a lemon yogurt coved almond from me, 5/8 agree that they would redily consume them if available. 0/0 care that they are gluten free. 7/8 think that the stories I tell about my cats are great. 8/8 are sure I’m a cat lady and 100% of Jenna’s are fine with that.
High School Reunion..Just Barf, or Total Barf?
That time has come.
I thought it would never happen.
Watching Romi and Michelle made me dream of a reunion full of high fives and just desserts, but as with most things…movies may have steered me toward unrealistic expectations.—Where are all the talking animals, I ask?! Where?!
It’s been 10 years since I graduated from high school and though I fit somewhere in the middle…Biology geek, cheerleader, art/choir nerd; I think that I was remotely memorable. My Facebook would have me believe that I am still in-touch with all those folks and their inevitable *baby-flood but it’s just a hyper-social sham. I don’t really care that you bought a burrito at Shopko today. Who are you again? I’m sorry………………. . . . . . . . not.
———-This is probably a good time to mention that I am A) Unmarried and B) Without Children, which is why I have enough spare time and brain power to make crazy shoes and write a marginally funny blog. Just fyi.———
ANYWAY FREAKING WAY, I am undecided on returning to the scene of my teenage “spring.” The same awkwardness that taught me to be sarcastic as an adult was in full gangly limbed effect back then and I’m not sure I want to relive that, even for 1 night…though I would like to rub my latent sexiness in a few faces. Hmm, Yes. Let’s focus on the sexiness as we contemplate an outfit for the occasion.
Nothing screams “Hey jerkface, you made fun of me in high school; now weep like baby over how hot I am” like midriff cutouts. Seriously, trust me.
It’s not for another month so there will probably be more posts with varied anxiety levels as the date grows closer. I may have some PTHSD (Post Traumatic High School Disorder) to get all over y’all. You’re welcome. Some thoughts on outift complimenting shoes…
I prefer simple, black shoes with this dress because it has so much going on, but a flirty metallic could work too. Just stick to a simple silhouette or you could tasefully get your Ne-on….haha get it, neon?! I’m so awkward.
*There was a dam that was holding strong until year 26. Cracks started to form, I could see trickles of pregnancy status updates taking over the feed…then 28…TWENTY-EIGHT!!…The weight of all those Instagrammed “baby pix” became too much for her and she burst. Babies. Just babies everywhere, not an empty uterus in sight. ‘Cept mine, this here be baby free y’all.
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