I had my first real experience with a karaoke bar last night.

Macadoo’s, which is the closest thing we have to a decent place to hang out, was the location. I met up with a co-worker and two of her girlfriends from her hometown. One of the friends invited a bunch of guys. Cool, right? Pfft. First of all, the friend was a tiny little girl wearing a “tarzan-like” one-shouldered black, yet shiny, tank top which barely covered her implants. Her skirt was made of two (very) small denim ruffles. She was wearing what appeared to be go-go boots. The eye shadow? We won’t even go there. As it turns out, her man is actually that…an OLD man. That chick is 25, her boyfriend is 44–and a muscle hound. I’ve known him forever, but never dreamed I’d be hanging out with him. Here’s a breakdown of the other guys there:

Muscle head’s best friend (and cousin)–Eddie Guerrero look-alike
Hot Ba’al lookalike who paid me NO attention whatsoever
Pure preppy geek guy (and NOT in a good way)
Man in his late 50s who kept whispering in my ear (blech) asking me to go home with him and please rock his world

Once I got over any chance of a hookup, I decided to just enjoy the show. Didn’t happen. Every.single.song was a country song–MOPEY country song, at that. Oh, yeah, all of the guys are gym-types, therefore didn’t drink or smoke–except creepy old man, who followed me to the bar like a sick horny dog at every chance he could get.

Needless to say, I probably won’t be hitting that circuit again anytime soon.

Retirement is treating my dad well. In what will be remembered as one of the most surreal moments of my life, yesterday, I “caught” him full-on club dancing to “Hollaback Girl” by Gwen Stefani. He looked like a Laker Girl or something. I gotta say, he was quite good! :clap: