I'm a seven-year-old adult. For breakfast (which, FYI, I'm eating right now--I just woke up at 12:15-- Whee!) I decided not to cook. Instead, the carton of mint Mackinac Island Fudge was calling my name. I answered. It's tre gooooood.
I'm also convinced that I'd be best friends with the guys from Queer Eye. I adore them. And I adore Bravo for giving me this fine Saturday afternoon. I wish I was a straight guy so they could help me out. But I'll settle for being their number one fruit fly. Hell yeah. I'm gonna stalk them when I'm in New York City. ("I think he might have been a woman in his previous life." Too funny.)
Also entertaining is the family moving into the building across from me. I've watched the process since last night. I don't know how big the actual residing family is, but there's like 5 kids running around. Two of them are climbing in and out of the window (it's on the first floor--it's ok) and befriending empty boxes. Kids can be too cute.
Last night--fabulous. I went karaokeing with Katie, Aaron, Laurie and Tina. Oooh yeah. My Place (a bar, people, a bar) needs to do some advertising or something because I definitely need a bigger audience when I perform. Or, um, laugh hysterically while singing. Laurie, Tina and I kicked off our night singing the Backstreet Boys' "Everybody." We did it on a dare. Tina and I were laughing 73% of the time. Props to Laurie for not needing the screen to sing the song. My stomach hurt and my eyes had tears by the time we were done. The karaoke guy (who was kind of cute, natch) was just like "um, thank you for that, um, interesting song choice." Mwahaha.
It got better and we re-earned some respect with Bon Jovi's "You Give Love a Bad Name." Double props to Aaron was singing when he wasn't even really drunk.
Good times. I adore karaoke.
I have a campaign to stop myself from drinking. Drinking makes me have the WEIRDEST dreams. So. Weird. Last night I dreamed that I was a suicidal bible-banger who kept giving Emily hell. Then Paul Beiring (a kid I knew all through elementary and high school) asked me to be his wife. We'll ignore the facts that he was sick, dying and I hadn't seen him in five years. I can't ignore the fact that I had the overwhelming premonition that he was, ahem, a member of the rainbow community.
I can't even escape my fruit fly status in my dreams.
I just realized something. Well...not just realized, but I think I just cemented my theories. I touch my face a LOT. I think I do it when I'm thinking or in the process of thought. Or when I'm not fully comfortable being in a situation. I also reach for something to chew on or drink when I'm communicating. All. The. Time. Every time I'm talking to someone, I reach for my bottle of water when I finish saying my thing. I don't know if I do it to validate my point or if it's a signal that I'm not comfortable with what I'm saying. It's annoying though. Both these thingys. They must stop. They will stop. I'm just glad I realized it. I hate my annoying habits. I can't imagine what others think of them.
Oooh....Dave the Barbarian's about to come on. Hurrah! Then I'm off to Target to hunt for new music. I love my life.
Ciao dahling!
~*Krissy*~
Livin' Out My RockStar Fantasy To: Queer Eye for the Straight Guy
Crush du Jour: Ben Stiller
Happy Thought of the Moment: karaoke, Queer Eye, fun scrapbooking supplies, mint ice cream, finally making my "life is a musical mix" (oooh it's gooood), yooper day, a full day to moi tomorrow, amaretto sours and strawberry daquiaris, feeling brave about tomorrow....