it's nine o'clock on a Saturday, the regular crowd shuffles in

You know how a lot of movies have karaoke scenes? Like , one of the main characters is forced to stand in front of a crowd of unfriendly faces and sing? And initially, they're all nervous and everyone is like, "Booooo! Get off the stage, loser!" but then the main character is all, "No, fuck YOU, I will now proceed to sing my ASS off, if you don't mind," and then they do. The rock the fuck out and maybe they're not very good (see: Cameron Diaz, My Best Friend's Wedding) but the crowd doesn't care because they're SO INTO IT.

The truth is, I've always sort of hoped this would happen to me. I don't understand this impulse. At all. I hate talking in front of people, even small groups, and I will only sing karaoke if I am so drunk that I won't remember it the next day. But I've always thought, if I were forced to get up on stage and sing, I might get that movie moment where everyone in the crowd is like, "oh my god, I heart that girl and must buy her a shot." I don't know WHY I think there is any chance of this happening, because if anyone ever tried to force me to get up on stage and sing, the most likely course of action I would take would be to kick them in the shin and then run into the bathroom and lock myself in one of the stalls. But, just in case(s), I've decided I need to be ready.

I need The Song. You know. The Song I will use to make everyone fall in love with me. It's a tricky prospect, and one I've been giving a lot of thought. I like to sing, you know, in the shower and in the car and OK around the apartment a lot, and I used to do a pretty killer Kelly Clarkson impression, but I would by no stretch of the imagination ever call myself a singer. So I need a really easy song. And obviously one with which I am already VERY familiar, like . . . "I Think I Love You" or "Ring of Fire." Or I could go another route and pick a song that doesn't require any singing ability whatsoever, like "Ice Ice Baby" or "I Like Big Butts," but would make people chuckle and say, "hee, that white girl is rapping."

OR I could choose a song that the crowd can't help but sing along to. Like "Livin on a Prayer" or EVEN BETTER "Don't Stop Believin." I mean, is there anyone in the world can hear, "She's just a small town girl . . ." and resist yelling, "livin in a LOOOOONLEY WOOOORD?" Because if there is such a person, I would like to meet them. So I could ask them what the hell is wrong with them. Anyway, if I'm singing one of these songs and everyone else is ALSO singing along, then they won't be paying me very much attention. Although, this probably also means they won't fall in love with me and buy me drinks, so that kind of defeats the point.

I think my best bet is to pick a song that I love. And I mean love like "I wanna have your baby and raise it and even though I will probably end up resenting both you and the baby for ruining my sanity AND my body, I can't help loving you anyway" love. So in that case, I think I'm gonna have to go with something like "Proud Mary" or "Don't Look Back in Anger."

The other night, we found out that this bar we really like has karaoke on Thursday nights. So, I don't know why I'm still sitting around talking to you people when CLEARLY I should be practicing.

sing out loud, sing out strong

Back in June, when Erica and were driving to Chicago, she commented that she never really sees people singing in their cars. I thought, "Surely she is mistaken! People always sing in cars!" but then I started paying attention to the other cars around me. This is probably something I should have already been doing while driving, but better late than never, right? Right.

Anyway, so here is what I learned:

1. People really don't like it when you stare at them
2. They are (most of the time) not singing

I don't understand this. I am ALWAYS singing in my car. I don't see the point of having a radio/CD player in your car if it's not there to help you sing. I cannot tell you how many times I've humiliated myself by belting out Journey or Kelly Clarkson or Boyz II Men (oh yes) and then realized my windows were all open and people were staring. But it happens a lot.

Who ARE you people who don't sing in the car? You are completely missing out on that feeling you get when you're driving down the road on a warm, sunny day, and the windows are all down and the wind is blowing through your hair and the perfect song comes on the radio and you think, "this is it . . . if my life were a movie, this song would be on the soundtrack." How can you not sing along?

I fought the law and the law won

I hope the title of this post did not confuse you. I'd hate to think you came into this post wondering if I (finally) got arrested or ran over a cop (or a bunch of soldiers, although I HAVE almost done both . . . key word: almost). I didn't get arrested or run over anyone. Sorry. You wanna hear something weird, though? Why am I asking you that? Of course you want to hear something weird! This morning I woke up half an hour before my alarm was set to go off. I hate that. I hate it with the fire of a thousand suns. And then I couldn't go back to sleep, but rather than get out of bed and maybe be early to work for once in my life, I just flopped around trying to sleep for thirty more beautiful minutes. INSTEAD of falling to sleep, however? I got this song stuck in my head. But not the whole song because I don't KNOW the whole song and probably haven't heard it in 57 years. It was more like "I fought the law and the law won . . . I fought the law and the law won . . . I fought the law and the law won" over and over until finally I just started singing it out loud. Why fight it?

Here is the weird part. Are you ready? My alarm went off, I rolled out of bed and walked over to turn on my radio. Because I like to listen to music when I get ready. Loud music. Right, Heidi? Right. Anyway, what song do I hear screaming out of my radio? "I FOUGHT THE LAW AND THE LAW WON," and I was all, "where have I heard that song recently?" and then I was like, "oh yeah, in my head . . . wtf?" It was a very weird start to the morning. I actually pinched myself to make sure I was really awake.

So, apparently I'm psychic. If only my powers could be utilized for something more useful than predicting a song on the radio.

Speaking of songs. I was listening to that new Fergie song on the way to work (don't you judge me). You know the one I mean? The "Big Girls Don't Cry" one? OK, so we call my friend Mary's roommate "Big Girl" even though he is neither big nor a girl. Discuss. Anyway, I'm listening to the song and the phrase "Big Girl" makes me laugh anyway because of Mary's roommate and Fergie got to the line "It's time to be a big girl nooooooow!" and I completely lost it. I was in my car, all alone, laughing so hard I was crying. I don't know what the people in the cars around me were thinking. I don't really care. However, I think it might be time to start sleeping. Weird things are going on in my brain and I'm blaming the insomnia. WHAT, IT TOTALLY DESERVES IT!

so give me your hand and let's jump out the window la la la la la

YOU GUYS! Today is it SUNNY and over FORTY DEGREES OUTSIDE! DO YOU SEE HOW EXCITED I AM?! CAPS LOCK! MEANS! EXCITED!

Seriously, do you know how great it is to walk outside and it's not so cold that you want to cry, but you're afraid to cry because the tears might freeze to your face and even though it'd be kind of awesome to peel long strings of ice-tears off of your face, you think it might also hurt and leave a weird mark so you'd rather not? Did anyone follow that? No? Me neither.

Does anyone else think this whole blogging thing is weird sometimes? Like, today, I spent most of the day at work thinking of Friends quotes to put in my Gmail status box because, um, that's what all other cool kids were doing and when I say cool kids, I mean People of the Internets. Do you guys really exist? I mean, really? I know some of you do, because I went to college with you or I've hung out with you or, hello, I live with you. Or I've seen pictures of you and I'm assuming my brain isn't sophisticated to make all of that up. Or you've introduced me to your friends so I'm assuming if your friends aren't imaginary than you aren't either. But the rest of you . . . are you really there or figments of my imagination? I hope you're real and not just in my head, but if you are, at least you're entertaining. Is anyone following this? No? Me neither.

I got off work early today so I came home, put on my pajamas and started doing laundry. Who else is jealous of my super-exciting life? Don't everyone put your hands up at once. Later I plan on making a salad and chicken for dinner unless I completely lose all motivation and make peanut butter and jelly. Which, ok, does sound really freaking good right now. OK, NOW who is jealous of my super-exciting life and DON'T LIE. You have no idea what kinds of super-exciting things I do all day long except, oh wait, yes you do because I tell you everything. Well, almost everything. Some things I only tell Heidi. Like on Monday? This happened:

Me: Heidi, can I tell you something really gross?
Heidi: Sure.
Me: No, I mean, it is really, really gross.
Heidi: OK.
Me: OK . . .

And then I told her the grossest thing ever* and she barely blinked. I'm not sure what that means. Does anyone know where I'm going with this? No? Me neither.

So I've been listening to the same song over and over for the past three days. I don't know why. When I really like a song I prefer to listen to it all day and all night and if I can't listen to it then I like to have it stuck in my head so I can hum it when other people aren't listening. I can't stop myself. It's a sickness. This is what happens:

Brain: OH MY GOD are you listening to this again?
Me: Yes.
Brain: WHY?
Me: I like it.
Brain: OK. But this is like the 30th time today.
Me: Don't exaggerate.
Brain: I'm not. Actually, I'm being generous. It's probably more like the 70th time today.
Me: Now you're exaggerating.
Brain: Maybe.
Me: OK, just one more time.
Brain: NO!
Me: One more!
Brain: No more, please for the love of the little baby Jesus!
Me: Please?
Brain: OK, it is kind of growing on me.
Me: Ha!

Does anyone care where I'm going with this? No? Me neither.

*Seriously, it was disgusting . . . but funny. I laughed, anyway.

So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, adieu. Adieu, adieu, to yieu and yieu and yieu.

So today I had to do something that made me very, very nervous. I can't say what it was, though. All I'll say is that I had to borrow some grown-up clothes from Heidi (thanks, Heidi!) and even though the pants were a little long and I thought my boobs might burst through the top button on her blazer, I think I looked pretty damn good. Not anymore, though. Now I am wearing pajama pants, a t-shirt, and a hooded sweatshirt (not red, though). HOT.

Anyway, when I have to do something that makes me very, very nervous, I have a very, very nerdy way of conquering the tiny butterflies playing racquetball in my stomach. Not only do I chant "What Would Elizabeth Bennet Do?" under my breath (not really . . . ok, maybe a little), but I always, ALWAYS have a specific song from The Sound of Music running through my head. You know? That one she sings about having confidence in confidence alone and she runs through the city swinging her guitar case in such a way that you just KNOW there is no guitar inside or it would have ripped her arm out of socket. Anyway. That is the song that runs through my head when I'm nervous. I didn't choose it. It's just there. I guess when you spend your formative years with Julie Andrews, something is gonna stick.

I am ALMOST ashamed that I shared that. Almost, I said.

As of right now I still have jury duty. Heh, duty. I'm supposed to call after 7 tonight to see if anything has changed and I'm hoping when I call they'll say, "Dear Jennie, please don't worry about dragging your tired ass out into the cold tomorrow morning. Stay at home. Sleep in. Lounge in your pjs." Not that it'd matter if they told me they didn't need me anymore. I'd just have to go to work, but at least work has the Internets. Although, at jury duty I might be able to finish the book I'm reading. Hmm. Quite a dilemma. Don't you feel sorry for me? Oh! Question! How long does jury duty last? Am I going to be down there all day? Like til 5? Because I have better things to do (see above: sleeping, lounging, Internets).

I have exciting news. You know how I decided to grow my hair long again? No? Well, I decided to grow my hair long again and today . . . this magical day . . . I realized that with the help of two tiny barrettes and a very small amount of hairspray I can put my hair IN A PONYTAIL. OH. HAPPY. DAY. I hope this amazing development is a sign of other good things to come if you know what I'm saying and I think you DON'T because I can't tell you. Do you see what I did there? Like it? No? Oh. OK.

Merry Christmas, assholes! (just kidding, I love you guys)

For some reason I have been listening to Christmas music whenever I have the radio on, in an attempt to force the Christmas spirit down my throat. It's not really working, partly because of Delilah (click here to read my thoughts on that slutbag) but also because for every song that comes on that I do like, there are like three others that make me want to shove something rusty and sharp in my ear. Songs such as "The Christmas Shoes," for instance, about the guy who gets suckered into buying some shoes for this kid's dying mother so she looks good when she meets Jesus. I wish the guy had bought the kid some food or some therapy instead. Jesus doesn't care what kind of shoes you wear when you get to heaven. Did Jesus even wear shoes? Sandals? And where is this kid's dad? Poor kid's just out wandering random stores (I picture him at Wal-mart) by himself on Christmas Eve? WTF? Also, it's kind of presumptuous for that kid to assume his mom is going to Heaven. Like, maybe he should be buying her some slutty, red heels if you know what I'm saying and I think you do. (I think that comment just got me a permanent spot on the Naughty List . . . FINALLY)

Another song I hate? That one about the Soldier's Silent Night or whatever? Where the old guy like recites a poem along to some slow, sad music. SHUT UP, old guy! This has less to do with the actual content of the song and more to do with my absolute hatred of people slow talking along to music and calling it a song.

Frosty the Snowman? I hate that cold, snowy bastard, too. He comes to life when you give him a hat? Does that not scare the shit out of anyone else? Judge me all you want, but he is like a SNOW ZOMBIE. The only way to kill him is to take off his hat or, you know, make the sun come out. That song makes me want to go on a rampage with a blowtorch, melting carefully constructed snowmen as I go before they can spontaneously reanimate themselves.

I also hate the little drummer boy. Who the hell plays the drums for a BABY? I bet Mary had just gotten Jesus to go to sleep and then this little asshole comes in with a drum and wakes him up. Do you think just because he's the son of God he doesn't need his sleep? Well, you are WRONG.

The song I loathe the most, though? The 12 Days of Christmas, which does, in fact, last twelve days. Every time I hear "five golden rings" all stretched out and loud and obnoxious I want to drive my car into a ditch. I will give special exception to the Muppet version, but that's only because I heart Beaker. WHO DOESN'T?

Um. OK, I know I sound like a total Grinch right now, but I can't help it. It's genetic. It's not that there aren't songs that fill my three-sizes-too-small heart with joy, they're just few and far between the songs that make me want to kill someone. If you see a murderous look in my eye, simply play one of the following songs:

• Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
• The Hippo Song (duh)
• I don't know, whatever song that was in Sleepless in Seattle that Meg Ryan was singing in the car? I don't remember what it was, I just like singing "horses, horses, horses, horses" WOW
• The Mariah Carey tour de force, All I Want for Christmas Is You (it's true)
• O, Holy Night, but only sung by Cartman

and I will be lulled to a calm, deep sleep. See? I'm not a complete Grinch. Yet.

PS: My mom commented on my blog. Because my parents are cool like that. Sometimes I think of the kind of stuff I write on here knowing most of my family is going to read it and I wonder how much farther over the line I'd go if they didn't read it. We're probably better off not knowing.

Hands, touching hands, reaching out, touching me, touching yoooooouuuu!

I don't know why, but the song "Sweet Caroline" fills me with pure, unadulterated joy each and every time I hear it. It could be that the lyrics are vaguely dirty, but I don't think that's it. Whatever it is, that song reduces me to a swaying, shouting lunatic in a way that only Tina Turner's "Proud Mary," Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'," (shut up) and Kelly Clarkson's "A Moment Like This" (shut up more and also suck it) can usually accomplish.

Dear Internets, what (embarrassing) songs give you that joy, joy, joy, joy down in your heart*?

*where?