I went to my friend Peachy’s house, who never updates but does have a fine home karaoke system. Three weeks ago she emailed all of us who were going to go to her house a thousand-song Excel worksheet, so we could…get this…choose our songs beforehand. Peachy is nothing if not organized.
It was so fun. My girl Sundry and the fantastic Ritchie rounded out the group and as usual I am so grateful for these womens’ presence in my life. They are funny and kind and generous-hearted and they are holding me up, along with the rest of my good good friends (happy birthday yesterday Manya!), and keeping me from drowning in grief and shame and rage right now, and they are looking damn cute in their new shoes while doing it. I cried a little bit, for real, because of their deep and unstinting empathy for me. If this journal never brings me anything but the friends I’ve made through it, I will consider it one of the best things I’ve ever done.
So, anyway, BFF aside, living room karaoke was good, and I sang, without shame, “Patience,” “Je Ne Regrette Rien,” “Total Eclipse Of The Heart,” (biiigg mistake), “Home Sweet Home,” and “The Rainbow Connection.” I sure wish I could sing karaoke in public the way I do it in my sock feet on carpet, you know, with the microphone in one hand and a fudge popsicle in the other. Ritchie and Peachy did me proud and we all channeled our respective Barry Manilows, Axl Roses, and members of the original cast of Les Mis. I brought that fig/onion/blue cheese thing I make and some baklava that I don’t make but do eat enthusiastically.
But the best part of the evening, tragically, was of such a caliber that I cannot write about it here. It was that amazing and that wonderful and that dirty. I am serious, I cannot tell you. Here are some hints though: rotation; implement; instructional video. Also: deeehhhrrrrtttyyyyy. At one point I actually stood on my head (on the couch) and screamed aloud, it was so awesome. I wish I could tell you all about it but this is a family journal.
I’m all tuckered out and looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow morning, so don’t y’all call me wanting me to go early morning jogging or anything. You may, however, call me if you’re intending to bring me pain au chocolat on a pretty tray with a doily and a flower in a vase and set it softly by by slumbering form and then tiptoe away after bestowing a single kiss on my forehead. Also, I’d like some orange juice. And hot chocolate. And maybe, actually, instead of pain au chocolat, I’d like waffles and maple syrup instead, please. Okay, yeah, waffles and syrup and a large orange juice with a side of bacon. Pretty girls that I hung out with tonight, that’s what I’ll be coming to your houses tomorrow with, since I’m so glad to know you and so glad to have you in my life. How do you like your bacon?