A series of awkward pick-up lines

Last week I bought a new perfume because it was pretty and floral and I thought it would make me smell nice. I didn't realize that it attracted crazies like bees to a flower. (Maybe there is something to be said about crazies being like bees, as both flowers and perfume are floral. Or maybe I should have come up with a better metaphor, I'm not really sure...)

If you are my facebook friend, you have probably read a few of these already- as I have been flabbergasted and posted several as they arise. I think what's truly impressive/ terrifying is that they have all happened while wearing the new perfume. (Which makes me think I should burn the perfume).*

Crazy #1: While in the check out line at Wal-mart."Hey there, how are you doing? Can I get your number girl?"
(This doesn't seem that crazy, until you find out that he was in front of me at the check out counter at Wal-mart, at 9:30pm, on Valentine's day. He had- I kid you not- just bought a card, some chocolates, and some gross/cheap Wally World flowers. Seriously?)

Crazy #2: While buying a scratch ticket at the gas station** "Can I see some ID?" I show him. "Wow, you could totally pass for 16***. I get off in an hour, want to grab dinner?" (What? With some creeper who thinks I look 16? NO!!!!)

Crazy #3: While sitting on my flight to San Francisco."You're listening to Toto? That's my favorite band!Blah, blah, blah, (I'd already dismissed him)" I'm sorry, but 1. Why are you stalking my Ipod? And 2. Why would anybody admit to Toto being their favorite band? Both of these make me have to say a resounding no. Besides, I judge who would hit on me the way I look when I travel.****

Crazy #4:  While checking into my hotel. "Are you here for the convention? I'd love to dance with you later! Promise you'll save every dance for me?" (From the woman behind me at hotel check-in. Apparently while I was in town there was a LGBT Salsa Dance convention. And yes, I did end up going dancing*****, but not with her!) 

I'm not sure if I should be flattered by all the attention, or terrified. In the words of my stalker Ingrid- "Everybody wants to be loved,  but not by total creepers."****** I need to get rid of the perfume, right?



*No, I probably shouldn't do that. I'm pretty sure that is almost as dumb as lighting a can of hairspray on fire...

**A weird habit I picked up from That Woman. I buy them sometimes when I'm thinking of her.

***Liar, I couldn't. And I'm ok with that, 16 was an awkward and terrible age!

****You should see what I look like when I travel. I wear a face mask to prevent germs from others in the plane, and a scarf around my head to hide my ear buds from the flight attendants. I refuse to turn off my ipod for take-off/landing. All in all, I look like a hit man from Elton John's mafia.  Actually, I'll just show you...

This is from a summer road trip, pictured here with the lovely J-Jantz.Not pretty, on either count...

*****Of course, I went dancing- could you expect anything less? I will share more in my next post about my random adventures in SF... but not tonight.

****** (She may have left the second part out...)

Do all families have a Christmas Creeper Dance Party?

I called my brother today to wish him a happy birthday. I was extremely proud of myself for remembering it at all, let alone calling him about it.*

Somehow the conversation quickly turned from discussing his birthday plans to talking about my first boyfriend (in middle school, so it hardly counts) who now lives in L.A. and makes a killing as a cross dressing hip-hop artist. Why can I never have a normal conversation?****

Anyways- I decided to make up for the botched phone call with a birthday blog post!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SCOOTER! 

After looking at these photos, is there any doubt that this man is my brother???

*MegRo likes to point out that I am bad at remembering birthdays. She thinks that I forgot her birthday last year**, just because I called her and left her a message talking about my day. When I talked to her the next day and asked how she was, she said she's fine but was a little mad that I forgot her birthday. I countered with the fact that I called her and was upset that she didn't call me back so I could wish her a happy birthday.

** She's right, I totally forgot her birthday. I asked her today (while I was on a birthday roll) what day her birthday was this year. Her reply? "April 9th, same day as last year". With an attitude like that, I might "forget" it this year too. ***

*** I would never intentionally ignore somebody's birthday. But there is a strong chance I will forget it. I'm sorry in advance, MegRo. 

****It doesn't help that my brother is as goofy as me (or probably more so). When all four of us sibs are together, life gets pretty weird.*****

*****Four words: Christmas Creeper Dance Party. Unless all families spend Christmas night awkwardly dancing in the kitchen to the Beastie Boys, no?

A brief conversation between friends...

Me: What if I told you I did something that I know you would tell me not to do, but I did it anyways- would you judge me for it?

MegRo: Probably not...

Me: Alright, well I did something that I probably shouldn't have done.

MegRo: Dog fighting?*

*And this is why everybody should have a best friend like MegRo. Because apparently she wouldn't judge me even if I were a dog fighter.**

**Obviously I'm not a dog fighter. Rufus is too friendly, and Maude has been too near death for too long. Also, because it's bad. So, there's that.

How can I be a sociopath with Ingrid Michaelson around?

I'm pretty sure Ingrid Michaelson has a song for every occasion. Sometimes I listen to her songs and idly sing along, and then sometimes I need a good jam and remember the songs I've been singing since my senior year of high school. Thank you Ingrid Michaelson. It's like you looked into my future and wrote a song for every event in my life. But then I think, that's pretty creepy. In fact- that's super cray. I mean- did you contact a psychic and decide what my thoughts and feelings would be for my first kiss, first pet adoption, even songs for moving? AM I BEING PSYCHICALLY STALKED BY A B LIST INDIE MUSICIAN? DO I NEED A RESTRAINING ORDER FROM YOU, INGRID?  Although, I doubt you can get a restraining order from someone hypothetically writing songs about you... it's something to look into.

I'm currently planning another trip to San Francisco to sing this weekend, and listening to "Far Away". I'm super excited for this trip/move/new adventure. See- Ingrid must have known that when she wrote it. She knew I was going to be moving from one side of the country to the other, and decided to write a song to commemorate it!

Oh yeah, you're probably wondering where the sociopath label fits in, aren't you?

After a long conversation with MegRo yesterday, she became increasingly concerned by my lack of concern for recent events in my life.* You'd think that your best friend would enjoy laughing on the phone with you for an hour or so, but mine laughed at my jokes while questioning my sanity. So much so that she googled an online test for sociopaths, took it (answering as she assumed I would answer), and after taking all 10 questions** she came to the conclusion that I was a potential sociopath. Rude.

I mean, I might be emotionally dead inside- but I definitely didn't kill kittens when I was a child. (Although I did let my canary Elton John*** die, but I swear that was an accident). I find it pretty impossible to go throwing around terms and labels, when I listen to Ingrid Michaelson. The way I see it, I don't need to express my feelings when she has already done it for me. Duh.

Besides, shouldn't we worry about MegRo's sanity? She's the one that filled out the test....******


*See prior blogpost, it's kind of a doozy

** Yes, it apparently only takes 10 multiple choice questions to make you worthy for an episode of Criminal Minds.

***Of course that was his name. What else do you name a yellow singing bird who's favorite thing in life was his 70's flowered mirror? I'm apparently constantly attracted to gay men. ****

****Of course I'm talking about RY***** here, as he always thinks my blog is about him anyways... who were you thinking of?

*****As I type this latest installment I am gchatting with RY. He is baking brownies and completely failing. So far he put in 1 1/2 times the amount of oil it said, and decided he could override the excess by putting some brown sugar in it, where he discovered a lump of bread in the brown sugar. This is of course going to end in disaster- maybe we can convince him to spend his day off writing a guest blog? He is one of the funniest men in the world and so pretty!!!

******She'd kill me if I left that unresolved. MegRo is not a sociopath, or a killer, or anything bad. If I had to describe her in images it would be a rabble of butterflies floating past good ol'ROY G. BIV*******

*******Yes, I still say ROY G BIV even though scientists have recently refused to recognize indigo. I refuse to let the man loose the vowel in his last name. ROY G BV is just silly and sounds like a tacky, uneducated, backwoods trucker (and nothing good comes from truckers- do you watch tv?). I don't want MegRo's butterflies to fly past that, it would ruin everything!!!

First audition of what feels like a million

 The time has come my loves and little ones... Audition Day!  I am sitting in the lobby of my first audition waiting for my practice room. You might think I would be focusing on my music and going over it my head (and over it and over it) but my give a shit quotient is at an all time low. Instead of looking over my music and wondering how I can possibly sing it all without peeing my pants,  I am listening to this and writing to entertain you all.

This may be the best tactic ever. I may go into the audition room an hour from now and feel like an absolute balla', or I might bomb it. Either way, we'll know in an hour!

Seriously though, I have already checked in at multiple locations, met with my accompanist, warmed up in the shower, reviewed the tricky bits of all of my pieces, sang through the high notes of my opening piece, drank a poop ton of tea/water, snacked on a granola bar,  checked myself in the mirror to make sure I am as beautiful as I remember/not a vampire, and put hairspray on my hair and panty hose (so neither fall out of place). Will someone please tell me what else to do? Because I can't possibly have all my shit this together...

Oh well, off to obsess somewhere else...

Toi, toi, toi to my self- because I know you all would say it if you had the chance!

I wanted to say Happy New Year, but my face is broken so I can't.

Congratulations everybody, we all made it to 2013. Many of you are probably proud of yourselves for sticking past the first day of your resolutions, hopefully nobody decided to add "spend less time on the interwebs" or "read less blogs by crazy opera singers with not much to say" to your list.*

I'd like to say that 2013 will be filled with less shenanigans on my part, but I decided not to lie to people on my blog. (REAL LIFE- HECK YES. BLOG- NEVER!) Besides, with 7 auditions coming up** I know that the madness and disturbing tales are sure to accompany. What I didn't know was that my New Years would be spent with double vision and losing an eye due to my broken face. Too much too soon? Let's pull a Julie Andrews and start at the very beginning...

I used to love my ex-roomie RY. Look at how cute we are getting ready to celebrate the end of 2012:

This love ended at 12:13 am January 1st, 2013. This is the moment when I knew that 2013 was going to be rocky and scary, and I will blame all of the years misfortunes on the above man. "What did he do?" asks you the reader. I'll tell you-HE MENTIONED THIS BLOG TO MY NEW YEARS DATE (NYD) !!!**** You might be asking "What's the big deal?" or "Why all of the secrecy?". But that's because you fall into one of two categories: 1.) People who know me so freaking well they expect the awkward word vomit that I like to call a blog (aka my mom, Maude, and Megro), or 2.) Some rando who doesn't matter much to me. I didn't mean that, you all matter to me! I just meant that you are probably someone I was in choir with in 7th grade who found my shameless plug for my blog through facebook. You totally matter to me old choir friend/jv football player I went to homecoming with/ and dentist of my step-dad!*****

Point being, NYD does not fall into one of the two categories. He is slowly getting to know me, which is probably wise, because quickly getting to know me can be overwhelming. Not that I want to hide my personality from him, I just don't want him to know that I hate showering and can't do it properly without a beer, or that I frequently order so much takeout they assume that it is for a large party, or that I am paranoid that Maude is dead and check on her at all hours of the day... crap like that needs to be shared in small doses. Luckily RY caught my laser death glare****** before he gave out the blog's name. Hopefully NYD won't see this, or he will most likely not contact me again. On the other hand, if he reads it and still contacts me, I will think he is a freak for wanting to talk to the same girl who wrote a freaking love letter to Chipotle and won't want to talk to him again. Maybe he will contact me and not mention anything about the blog, and then I'll grow increasingly suspicious over whether he has read it and refuses to mention it. Why won't he mention it? Does he not think I'm funny? Is he trying to be sneaky? Why should I go on a date with someone who doesn't like my stinking blog? Or what if he doesn't look it up? WHAT KIND OF JERK DOESN'T READ THE BLOG OF THE GIRL HE TOOK OUT FOR NYE? ... I could go on with this line of questioning for awhile, but you can see from the above that I am damned if he does, damned if he don't. (And crazy. You can see that I'm slightly crazy).

And now you see why RY's subtle mention of my blog was the first disaster of 2013. The second was when my sister broke my face (by accident) while she was suffocating me on couch (on purpose). 

I'd like to write more about that, but this post is already too long. Also, my face is swelling up and the vicodin is kicking in, but I promise to give the full account of my brush with death******* tomorrow, complete with more pictures like this: 

Notice the swelling and the death? This story is actually worse than usual... look out folks! Til tomorrow! (Or some other awesome phrase that sounds like a wicked cool cliffhanger!)
  


* I myself have made no New Years Resolutions. In part because I am too lazy, part because I forgot, part because I believe that you should make positive changes in your life no matter what time of the year it is, and part because I am just so stinking awesome I have no need for change<---Yea, I said that.

** Yes, I got 8/8 auditions from applications. Now instead of getting a friendly PFO in the mail, I have to fly to a foreign city to get rejected. Opera auditions are like the worst case of online dating ever,  like the type of crap they would put on To Catch a Predator... "The victim was convinced to fly across the freaking country for a ten minute interview and was never heard from again, because what kind of idiot flies thousands of miles and pays thousands of dollars to get rejected after 10 minutes? The kind of idiot that would fall for an online murder scammer guy!"***

*** I realize that my logic may be flawed here, but it made sense when I started typing and then I got too lazy to delete it and start over. Maybe that should be a resolution, actually go back and edit your work...

**** I refuse to say any more about this man, so don't ask. I'd like to say it is because I protect people's identities on my blog, but really it is because I don't want to give my family any ammunition when they start teasing. Last time I told them I was dating somebody was 6 years ago, and when they found out that he was planning on going into seminary they had my nephews refer to the man as "Uncle Father" for years. (Even though we only dated for months).  Teasing is a blood sport in my family, and I have to protect myself! 

***** I don't know why I said that. I panicked. I don't have a step-dad. My dad is awesome and has been married to my mom for a really long time. Like, almost twice my age long. (But not really twice my age. Closer to twice my age than half my age, so, twice sounds better).

****** This is Rufus's laser death glare. This is pretty much what I looked like to RY when he was blabbing about my personal brand of cray-cray to one of the last men on Earth who didn't know I was fucking psycho.

*******I just realized that this story better be really good, because nothing fabulous happened in this post. (Besides that dress I'm wearing). <--- Yea, I said that too.

********This has little to do with anything above, except the fact that I think I use too many footnotes, or maybe just too many to continue to use asterisks (astri?). For real though, 8 is a bit much. Maybe in my next post (the last one I write before I die from my face falling off) I will use a number system. But not in chronological order, because that would be hard to remember. Plus, it will be like a game to find the right footnote number.

Most likely the best news of 2012

This may or may not be as exciting for you as it is for me, but I have found a new reason to shower. (Or rather, an old reason masquerading as a new reason- the little minx). Ladies and gentlemen, Mom and Maude, I re-present you with the shower beer. That's right folks, I have rediscovered the joys of drinking a beer and taking a shower, but let's back up a bit.

You might not know that I hate to shower.*(It's true. I'm not quite sure on the reason, but I used to blame it on being from Colorado. Then again, I'm pretty sure Coloradans shower...) Megro used to joke that I should break up with people more often to take more showers.**** Clifford (Clifton, Cleburne?) used to make me go out and play frequently in the rain as the equivalent to a shower. I don't remember the other ways I have been persuaded to bath, I only remember that stepping into the watery pit and drowning myself has been a struggle for years. Until now.

About a week back I wanted a beer, I needed a shower, and suddenly saw the most perfect use of the window ledge outside of the shower stall. I had my first shower beer it what seems like years. And now I can't stop. You'll never believe it- but I am showering daily! Ain't nothin like getting bored of shaving your legs and stopping to enjoy the tapped Rockies. Plus, there is always a good excuse for a shower beer:

Hard day? Shake it off with a shower beer...

Awesome day? Celebrate it with a shower beer...

Big date? Calm the nerves with a shower beer...

Night out? Pregame with a shower beer!

Also, I am proud of my shower beers, as I feel like I am going green. It is a personal goal to finish the beer before the mountains change from blue back to grey. You're welcome, Mother Earth!

Anywho- I now have auditions at 5 of my 8 top choice schools, and waiting to hear back from the other 3. I'm looking forward to trips to San Fran, NYC, and Houston among others- all while being incredibly clean due to this new found habit of mine (showering).

Now I leave you with this inspirational video, which I have been watching daily instead of posting to this silly blog. I have been growing a bunch of crap in the garden of my mind. 



*If you do know it is for one of two reasons: I have told you as much, or you have smelled and surmised.**

**If you have smelled me and not told me I was smelly- stop reading my blog and stop being my friend!!! Friends tell friends when it's time to shower.***

***Okay, seriously though, Rosietoes used to tell me when it was time to shower. After she left the cross was Megro's to bear. (I am only just now realizing as I type this how weird it is for a grown woman to let other grown women be responsible for her own cleansing).

****This stems from a non-breakup breakup in college where I was so upset that I sat on the floor of my shower and cried while listening to the most depressing Ingrid Michaelson song (Keep Breathing) on repeat. Also I was fully clothed. Also it may have been a bit dramatic. Also that's not new news.