Just got back from attendings my friend’s ‘singing thing.’ It was a last minute addition to my diary, and she caught me off guard, as i usually spend the majority of my time on a train, going in the opposite direction. (Really i do, i’m never home. She just got lucky.) Anyway, ‘Friend,’ i’ll label her, ‘Could use a class or two,’ decides she needs me to come to her ‘singing thing,’ to raise her profile. Apparently, i always wear ‘the dress,’ the shirt,’ the eye-makeup’ or ‘the problems,’ that makes other innocent folk stare. When they stare, they’ll look to my right. On my right will be, ‘Could use a class or two,’ therefore sealing her place in history!! (Or something lame like that??)
So armed with a ginormous headache, (seriously i feel like i have mini-midget men building a haunted mansion, inside my throbbing head) i go off to Leeds, to listen to her howl. Everything went to plan! It was all elegant, and divine. The masses obeyed and glared, the first few hopeful singing stars, we’re FANTASTIC!! Then ‘Could use a class or two,’ trollops on, doesn’t stick to her end of the bargain, of actually being GOOD, and due to sheer stage fright, starts her song in the wrong key. It was the worst rendition of ‘Don’t it make my brown eyes blue,’ i have EVER heard. She made my ‘brown eyes’ want to search for 100 pieces of string, braid them in a big thick rope, listen to the chorus, then choke myself with it. It was like a train wreck. It just got worse, the further it chugged along. (Oh my God, someone’s just splashed Goldfish bowl water, in my face, whilst shouting ‘SNAP OUT OF IT!!.’)
Anyhow, long story short. She keeps howling on, and every time she quick glanced at me, i was pretending to choke myself with a noose. (I’m a good friend.) I was being 98% serious, yet for some strange reason ‘Lovey’ believed it was hilarious, and started joyously smiling during the, ‘Don’t it make my brown eyes, DON’T it make my BROWN eyes..’ Eventually it came to some sort of an abrupt but happy ending, and i was free to get wasted on white wine, finger snacks and mouth wash. The whole experience just left me feeling mucky and dirty fingered.
I gave her my honest opinon, and told her she was ‘GREAT,’ (decorated with nods, smiles and a ‘hey, i’ve godda go,’) then i slowly tottered out of the joint, LEAPED into the nearest moving vehicle, which brought me all the way home, with oddest quick spats of good old fashioned sexual harrassement, for entertainment. He asked for my number. I gave him hers. Pay back’s a bitch!