Let the mighty cry of Whoo fill the night!

Last night there was karaoke and it was good. There was singing and dancing and general merriment. There was fun and laughter and festive behavior. Beth and I had a great time.

There was no Bobby. I was sad. However, the fabulous Lisa Jo was our waitress and brought the Diet Coke with a lime slice directly to me so I was made happy again.

The red shirt experiment was not a failure but also, not quite a success. Beth and I journeyed to Northtown Mall on Sunday, only to find out that there is no longer a Lane Bryant there. We then drove to Catherine's, unfortunately, they closed at 5 and we didn't get there until 5:30 or so. Then it was off to Target. Target, among other problems, does not have the best plus size area. There seems to be the general consenus in most department stores that if you wear over a size 3X or 26/28, well, too dang bad. So you can either squeeze yourself into what they have to offer or wait until you can find a specialty shop that's open. I did manage to find a nice red shell (I'm assuming that's what it's called. I don't do fashion) and a black cardigan to wear over it. The shell had a scoop neck so there was some attention drawn to the chestal area. Of course, since I was spending the weekend over at Beth's, there I am in my red shirt, black cardigan, blue jeans and brown boots. My, I was stylin'. There will be pictures later.

I bought boots. Well, actually, Beth bought boots for me. I have not worn boots in over a year and a half because my calves are too big and the boots I owned won't zip up. Well, I thwarted them. We found a size 12 (I normally wear a size 10) and they do fit around my horrendously swollen legs. Of course, I forgot what it was like to walk in boots because it's not the same as flat shoes. I used muscles that have laid dormant for over a year and they are not pleased with me. Not pleased at all.

Anyway, back to the experiment. As you know, if you have read the previous posts about this, Beth and I were conducting and experiment to see if men, particularly drunken men, are drawn to the red shirt or the person in the red shirt. Since my "girls" have not been ogled in quite some time, it was my turn to see if it was possible to attract male attention.

The Red Shirt Experiment

1. Michael came over to join our table. Somehow the topic turned around to the red shirt. Michael said "Oh, that's right. This is the last night of the experiment." And I said "That's right. So, dammit, ogle them." He gave a piercing stare towards the vicinity of the afforementioned "girls."
2. Buddy stared blankly at me for a moment until I cleared up what Beth and I were talking about by saying "Stare at my chest, dammit." He laughed and obliged me with the two second glance. And it was actually at my neck so it doesn't really count.
3. Matt walks in, sits down next to me and says, with a leer "I like the shirt." No pressure but doesn't count because he's family.

What have we learned from this? Other than the fact that telling someone to stare at my chest probably destroys the whole experiment? Not much. Oh, well, it was fun. I need better "girls."

Some of the people who told me they would be there did not arrive, although they had good reasons. We were surprised to see Buddy, he read the open invitation and decided to come. Buddy is great. He is funny and smart and reminds me of Buddy Holly (hence the nickname) and oh, my God, the man can sing. Beth and I were quite impressed. Lady B, I apologize, I did tell Buddy that I loved him. But it is purely in a mortal to rock god way.

There was a man there that I was somewhat attracted to (Matt may differ with the somewhat since, when this guy came up to sing, I grabbed Matt's shoulder and may have put fingernail marks into it). He was scruffy and had dark hair and nerd glasses (oh, how I love the nerd glasses, you know the ones I'm talking about, the thick black ones that only make piercing blue eyes even more piercing) and a white t-shirt with no sleeves and was somewhat muscular. He sang Stuck In The Middle With You and then also sang Lola. It was during Lola that I became less smitten. He came up onto the stage, raised his arm over his head and then sniffed his armpit. Yes, you read that right. His armpit. It was then I became not so turned on as much as seriously grossed out.

Anyway, we're going up next Sunday as well. You're all invited again.

Previous comments

Let the mighty cry of whoo fill the night

At 5:29 PM, Matt said...
That was a fun night, a lot of fun. I however really enjoyed the announcement that Brian had made about the "under things" at the back, that was good. I think that I will mention the night after the Karoke, because that was filled with a rather amusing conversation if I remember correctly...........

Your Son

P.S. And what do you mean that I do not matter because I am family? I thought you loved me....I always knew that Beth was your favorite...............

At 7:27 AM, Firebear said...
Glad to hear Sunday was a good time. I for one beleave cleavage should be seen more. I haven't been able to sing Lola for years. When I try it comes out as Weird Al's version entitled Yoda.

"Meet him in a swamp down on Dagobah, where it bubbles all the time like a giant carbinated soda, S-O-D-A soda."