Karaoke Madness (week 17)

Last Friday my cousin Delilah turned 30. For the occasion she chose to gather everyone together at Grandma's. Not the house of a little old lady who is our Grandma, but Grandma's restaurant and karaoke bar. She is a regular there. It was a lot to take in, my first karaoke bar experience. I don't think I could ever assimilate into the karaoke culture. Too much of a smoky, drunken, off key situation. I gave my cousin a box of 72 mini tubes of toothpaste.
Here is my summary of the evening. Rockin' Raymond plays the blow-up guitar while people sing, intense. The DJ plays maracas and the tambourine. I wanted someone to sing the monkees theme song, preferably someone who was drunk, no luck. If I had been drunk I would have sung the theme song to Gilligan's Island. Delilah had about 10 drinks. Lots of bad singing, but my cousin sings well, until maybe the 8th drink. The observation of another non-drunk person: Drunk people talk about how they are drunk and then they start telling everyone how much they love them. They start kissing everyone too. I ate cake. Overstimulation. Gambling evaluation and reduction program brochures are available with the keno sheets. Alcohol doesn't have a meniscus like water. I goes the other way, like a reverse meniscus. My cousin Chip and I observed this phenomenon in an abandoned drink, laying our heads on the table and staring. It is funny when the drunk people lose their drinks. No one asked me for ID, I look like I'm 20, maybe. Asthmatic is using her inhaler, the smothering comforter of smoke must be getting the best of her. Burnin' Ring of Fire and PBR.
I can think of 837 better ways to spend my evening, but it was her birthday, so what can you do?

week 18, continued

Today I shut my finger in a drawer at school. It hurts.

week 18

Alan, a guy in my dental hygiene class, eats 3 pounds of bananas every week.

If the monkey puppet were a real monkey he would also eat 3 pounds of bananas every week.

week 19?

Apparently I didn't feel the need to blog for the last 71 weeks. Can it be true that I only have to live with my parents for about 19 more weeks? It seems to be true based on a quick count on the wall calendar. That is like a light at the end of the tunnel, sort of. A small, distant light anyway. The topic of blogs seems to keep coming up, so here I am again.

The last 71 weeks have been mostly filled with the wonders of dental hygiene, cleaning teeth, poking people with needles, getting poked with needles, stuff like that. There was a road trip with the monkey puppet and some work at the library in there.

Today as I walked past the middle school field I saw the last two straggling gym students running around the bark dust trail. I got that sick feeling that I always get when I see something that takes me back to my middle school days. Those horrible gym outfits, black shorts and a bright red shirt with your name written across the front in black marker. I think they make you wear those to identify kids who try to escape, like bright orange prison outfits. If anyone sees them they will say "quick, get that student back to the gym for their square dancing lessons or crab walk relay."