Have you ever woke up on a Monday, looked back at the weekend and said to yourself, Whoa. That. Was. Weird?
Welcome to my every Morning.
That’s a lie. My life outside my semi skitzo brain is usually stick-a-needle-in-your-eye boring, but these past couple days would make you think I lived in a traveling circus. That, and my strange obsession with lion tamers. What? They master wild animals! I’ll give you a wild beast you can tame, alright. Wait, no, that’s not sexy. It sounds more like my vagina has teeth. Rarrr. Yep. New pickup line!
Well well, that got sexual quickly. Not my intention but I approve.
Back to my weekend.
I got tickets to a musical for Christmas from my in-laws. It was in Swedish so I didn’t bother checking what the play was about because, well, I probably wouldn’t understand a word they were saying anyways. So I pumped two ciders into my veins and sat unanticipatingly (new word) for the curtain to open. Then boom. It started raining men. Dressed as women.
There were so many abs I lost count, the glute muscles on these guys were spectacular, and the bulges were just something a thong cannot hide. So naturally, my first instinct was to grunt like an old man at hooters, uuuggggghhhhh. But the overdone make-up and flamboyant dresses threw my lady parts for a loop. What is happening to me? I smile at the thrusting dancing but frown at the ten-inch high heels they’re doing it in.
So, if I concentrated really hard on just the abs, my mind would be like hello! but the second I looked up and saw the stunningly made bustier I would think, Oooo, that would look great on me, I wonder if VS makes a similar one?
Not quite normal.
In the final act, the main actors came out in the most spectacularly elaborate dresses, lifted their arms and created the structure of a 17th century boat.
And that’s when my ship had sailed. Yep. Not into femy men.
After that I realized I am extremely heterosexual. But if I were to ever rewind time, go to college in the U.S and experiment with a sorority sister, she’d have to be one of those mega jacked testosterone injecting strong women. Or just an Olympic shot-putter. Close enough.
We decided we hadn’t had enough confusion for one night, so we went to a karaoke bar.
It. Was. Intense.
Firstly, these people weren’t just there for shits and gigs. They were there to work. The first girl up on stage had an entire dance routine to go with the song. Two hours and 25 acts later, that same girl got back on stage to perform a ballad in memory of her late fiance. I was two tequila shots and an undetermined amount of gin and soda’s in, so I wasn’t paying any attention. Though that did not stop me from approaching her in the washroom to express my condolences.
Jerrica Zeron: The Considerate Drunk.
Then the worst thing happened. She hugged me. After that it was all over. I was locked in to this girls life story. First her fiance died in her arms three years ago. Awful story, though unconfirmed. Then she signed up for karaoke to sing for him and didn’t believe she did a good enough job! If you think it can’t get worse than that, think again. She gets a call saying her friend is in the hospital for committing suicide! That’s just bad timing. But life is about to start looking up, because the phone rings…..and it’s the dead girl! False alarm people. So she went back up for a third round of karaoke. All is right again.
To top off my weirdo weekend, my niece decided she would become a dog. So my fiance threw her a ball, she woofed, crawled to it, and brought it back. For a whole afternoon. Without breaking character once. Now that’s a show.