Category — karaoke is your new bicycle

My finger is a little better today, thank you everyone. I still can’t touch myself drink tea with it but whatever…baby steps.

So, this weekend I have to go out to every karaoke place in the WORLD for an article I’m working on for The Mercury and it is going to be like 850 billion degrees. However, since becoming a militant vegan activist 5 days ago, all of my summer clothes totally fit me again, so I won’t be forced to wear a sweatshirt to hide my jelly belly. I hate that term.

Anyway, tonight I’m going to The Hutch and Yen Ha and maybe also The Ambassador. But here’s the rub – I can’t drink very much because I have to keep my stamina up for the next three nights. Plus, I’m vegan now and if I get all drunk everyone will be able to laugh at my drunkenness and look down on me and if I can’t be the one looking down on the people then WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING THIS FOR?

And tomorrow night I get to have karaoke girl’s night, whee!!!!! Melissa Lion, myself, and my new Superfan, Erica are getting together for one night of ribaldry and excitement! I hope Erica remembers not to look Melissa directly in the eyes and also to always, ALWAYS bow her way out of the room.

I’m very excited to meet my Superfan. I only saw her for a split second on NW 21st, but she looked pretty. And she’s funny. And she’s from the east coast. And she thinks I’m like a god or something. And now she knows where I live.

What could go wrong?

Hahahaha.

I’m scared.

NO! No. I really am looking forward to the three of us hanging out. Erica seems super cool. I am a little worried about ordering drinks and things because usually Dane takes care of that and I’m afraid I might just sit somewhere for an hour before I realize I’m not actually drinking anything and no one cares. And I’ll miss Dane. I’m sappy.

I wish Crissy could be with us. It would be so awesome and we could all have a big pillow fight and take pictures and Ken would have a heart attack. But in a good way.

And I haven’t told Superfan and Melissa this yet, but a friend of mine who I haven’t seen in TWO YEARS is going to be at The Alibi with her friends and so we’re going there too.

So many girls. I bet we all get our periods, like, fucking immediately.

Yesterday, while I was busy not blogging, it became readily apparent to me that the Cookie has never had a theme week and that if we didn’t have one soon, we would become obsolete. And, after looking up the word “obsolete” in the dictionary and finding out it did not mean “even more elite”, I thought to myself “let’s fix that”. So ta da! Theme.

I picked karaoke because it’s something I know a lot of gossip about – provided I can sift through the drunken memories and discern what is real and what is Jaeger shots. Just like I did for my mom growing up. Ha! no. My mom never drank. I just want someone to blame. I guess I’ll blame society. YEAH. Fuck you society and your ills and your Olive Gardens! I drink at you!

Anywhatever, tonight I have a screening to go to (because Ferik Penrickson, Editor at Large, is a slave driver and makes me see movies. For money. Jerk.) and then we are going to some karaoke place with Justin and Megan and some of Megan’s former co-workers. The place is in, oh GOD it BURNS, Clackamas. But honestly? I’m kind of looking forward to it in the same way it feels good to push your tongue into a sore tooth. I’m going to steel myself for a lot of white baseball caps, shirts with swirly designs on the shoulders, hair gel, and girls who say stuff like, “I guess we’re doing the karaoke thing tonight! I’d better get my drink on!” Also, these girls will be orange. And MARK MY WORDS INTERNET, they will – every last one of them and probably all together in a big orange group – sing that fucking Carrie Underwood song about keying that guy’s truck because he was a cheater. GOD. MAKE IT STOP.

So, to kick off Karaoke Week™, and drunken performances, I give you this video which has the dubious honor of being the only reason (other than the Rock who CARRIES that movie) to see Southland Tales. I normally don’t give a fig about Justin Timberlake (sorry Melissa!) OR The Killers but here, here people at 1 minute and 44 seconds, is when and where he brings sexy back.

Timberlake: Better drunk, bloody, and sad