Woah, happy new year, folks!
It’s 2013 now, which would be totally awesome if I hadn’t just gotten used to typing/writing 2012 on things. My new year’s resolution, should I be required to have one, is that I get accustomed to putting down “2013” on documents as quickly as possible.
I see many voided checks in my near future.
Some quick shout outs: my old roomie Chris, who Steam gifted me the Sonic Collection; Mike, who got me a super awesome MLP comic book; Lima, who got me yet another comic that I know I’m going to love; and Jackie for getting me another bottle of Jets wine (which I’ll be popping open once we get our new GM).
Anyways… I totally understand that this might be on the weird side, but every once in a while Jackie and I sit down together and watch a ton of videos featuring people popping zits on Youtube. It’s absolutely gross, but for some reason we are completely spellbound by what’s on screen and keep watching until there are no new videos to be found.
I’d feel a little weird linking directly to the grossness, but if you suddenly had a hankering to check them out, they’re easy to find with some quick searching.
Like I mentioned last week, I was down in Delaware with some friends for new year’s and had a great time and, as shown in yesterday’s Kat’s Korner, one of the places we went to was a bar called “The Purple Parrot.”
Outside of the reglar bar stuff they’ve got a karaoke machine and, due in large part to the influence of a few drinks, we submitted a few song requests, one of which was quickly called out by the DJ.
Celine Dion’s My Heart will go on, from Titanic.
Right off the bat, my friend Arno and I took some flack for our song choice; some bar patrons yelling out, “REALLY?!” quite loudly.
Unfazed, we began singing.
When we weren’t flubbing notes, we were messing up the words. Within moments, the dance floor vacated as if someone exclaimed there was a bomb planted beneath it.
Out of what I could only assume was pity, a gentleman from the crowd picked up a microphone and joined in with us. At first I figured that our newfound brother-in-song would be the only one getting involved.
As with most predictions I have in life, I was wrong.
Another man stepped on the dance floor, but rather than dancing or singing, he picked up the cord going to Arno’s microphone…
and began seductively pulling Arno towards him.
The guy then grabbed Arno’s crotch, which I have to imagine he didn’t fancy. After Arno sheepishly responded in the positive to the man asking if he preferred women, the man followed up with another question, “How do you feel about twenty-five year old Mormons?”
A very strange night to ring in the new year.