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rhymenoceros and hiphopotamus 2009-03-09 3:02 p.m. Last night, she said "Baby I feel so down." "Oh baby, don't care no more." Oh little girl, I don't care no more. This could have been a conversation between myself and Christina. And people, no they don't understand. But last night... Arguably one of the best nights of 2009 - tentatively, because I'm sure Christina and I will do bigger and better. We're crazy. Yeah, we went out on a Sunday night. Detroit Bar is fast becoming our Central Perk. At $5 a drink, it's just barely more expensive than Starbucks. We really didn't go in with any objective, just to talk face to face instead of on aim, the phone or via text.
At Ralph's to get cash back before going out. Irresistible. Sunday nights at Detroit Bar are for karaoke. True to the ad, there was no cover, but it was not happy hour prices all night, the filthy liars. I boldly ordered a Tokyo Tea, and it set me back $11. Considering what was in it (vodka, rum, gin, tequila, triple sec and midori) and how much was in it (tons), maybe it was a good deal regardless.
It doesn't look it, but it was almost the length of my head, and three times the size of Christina's gin gimlet. I stuck with that one drink all night, and Christina and I alternated between the bar inside and the patio outside. As we had planned, we just stood around chewing on sour gummies and chatting, but it turned out to be a good deal more crowded than we thought. Minus Christina's red lipstick, my odd clothing and Ryan Hudson, we were popular. The boys can't handle the bold and the beautiful red lipstick. I was wearing pants instead of tights for once, and thinking about it now, I've realized that I'm Lady Gaga... As for Ryan, bless his soul, but he's quite the cockblock. Under the aforementioned conditions, last night the bros kept rolling up to us and talking - without any lecherous overtones, amazingly enough. They kept asking us if we were going to get onstage and sing, and we promised we would break it down with Snoop Dogg. For all their pestering, they weren't there to cheer us on when we did go though.
Only the two of us would smuggle candy into a bar. The deejay and man in charge of the karaoke sign-up was named Lester Trombone. He was wearing a mechanic's jumpsuit with his name embroidered on the chest and back, and made a lot of rude comments after each performance. He was quite the asshole, but Christina kept trying to convince me that if we changed everything about him he would be okay. Right. Lester kept letting the same people perform over and over again, and at one point even said: "I'm not really going in order." Christina and I were horrified! Well, to be exact, I was horrified. Christina didn't care that much to do it, but I needed to show my Snoop skillz. We made a deal that if we weren't called up by midnight, we would leave. I was walking up to ask Lester how soon our names were, when he ignored me and read off from some slip of paper: "Who are Cat and Christina? Who sings 'Drop It Like It's Hot'?" Lester refused to believe that it was Snoop Dogg. I wanted to cut the bitch. I know my Snoop. I figured it might be under Pharrell by some fluke, so I spelled it out for him, but he continued to argue with us until of course he found it under "Snoop Dogg". Bastard. By then I was sober, and mildly nervous. I'd like to think I did a fair job of it, despite stumbling sometimes and twice stopping to gasp, "I'm tired now, fuck!" The crowd was very supportive and cheering us on, though I'm sure they were supremely confused as to the two of us of all people were doing hip hoppity. I woke up this morning in a pretty good mood, because of last night and I've given up hope and effort. It should be alarming to me how quickly I get over things, but egh. I rode to campus around noon to turn in my time card and a few papers I'm done grading. I spoke to Professor Valdez about the cases of plagiarism, and it was then that karma starting laughing in my face. Valdez said because of the plagiarism, the associate dean wants all 1100 papers resubmitted to go through turnitin.com and be graded again. Serious fml moment. I came home starving for lunch. When I began pulling things out of the fridge to cook, balsamic vinegar splattered all over me. I immediately started frowning, and upon inspection inside, I found that someone had spilled what looked like an entire bottle of balsamic vinegar inside. It had dripped into all of the lower drawers and flooded the floor of the fridge. I couldn't leave it for the perpetrator to clean up, because it was already starting to dry and stick. On my hands and knees scrubbing, I felt a couple of bites and looked down upon a gang of ants roaming the kitchen floor. Two hours of wiping, scrubbing, sweeping, bleaching and washing later... I sat back on my haunches from being on all fours for awhile, and I may have growled to myself a little bit in bright red anger. I was so angry that it took my breath away. I wrote a long note and posted it on the fridge in a bitchy manner, but I believe that I am legitimately upset. Better that than a screaming fit at my roommates. My celery and tofu was cold by the time I could finally sit down and eat lunch. All the drawers are still drying outside, so there's cheese and miscellaneous bags of vegetables sitting on our dining room table. I've calmed down quite a bit now, and I won't let this put a damper on my rising career as a rap star. PS: I remembered that I didn't put up pictures corresponding to yesterday's entry so here goes.
I'm upset that so many people were missing.
I don't play favorites with my students. Not at all.
Scott Zimmerman was originally suppose to be in that space between my legs, but I think he drew the line.
Queens of awkward.
Her party. back |- |
